like the old liars who in the end honestly
believe their own stories; and the impression produced on our Chamber
by such ridiculous things as they say, without any regard for the
matter in hand, or for common-sense, will be sure at last to convince
people generally that peasants and provincials are not fit to make
laws and conduct European politics. Now I must listen. Farewell, my
much-beloved heart. Love to my daughter and your parents.

Your most faithful v.B.

Berlin, Friday.

(Postmarked September 21, '49.)

I am well, my darling Nan, but I am cold, for in the morning the rooms
are already so chilly that I long very much for the Schoenhausen
fireplaces, and matters in the Chamber are so tedious that I often
have serious thoughts of resigning my commission. In the ministry
there is again a shameful measure preparing; they now want to submit a
real property tax bill, according to which those estates which are not
manors are to be indemnified, while manors must suffer, as the number
of nobles is not dangerous. Only if encumbered for more than
two-thirds of their value, they are to be assisted by loans. What good
will a loan do a bankrupt, who has it to repay! It is a mixture of
cowardice and shameless injustice such as I could not have expected.
Yesterday we had soft, warm autumn weather, and I took a long walk in
the Thiergarten, by the same solitary paths which we used to traverse
together; I sat, too, on our bench near the swan-pond; the young swans
which were then still in their eggs on the little island were now
swimming vivaciously about, fat, gray, and _blase_, among the dirty
ducks, and the old ones sleepily laid their heads on their backs. The
handsome large maple standing near the bridge has already leaves of a
dark-red color; I wished to send you one of them, but in my pocket it
has become so hard that it crumbles away; the gold-fish pond is
almost dried up; the lindens, the black alders, and other delicate
things bestrew the paths with their yellow, rustling foliage, and the
round chestnut-burrs exhibit a medley of all shades of sombre and
attractive fall coloring. The promenade, with its morning fogs among
the trees, reminded me vividly of Kniephof, the woodcock-hunt, the
line of springes, and how everything was so green and fresh when I
used to walk there with you, my darling. * * * On the 1st of October I
shall probably have to attend the celebration of the nine-hundredth
anniversary of the found