is said that he had among his friends the reputation of
being a liberal; it is probable enough that he said and did many things
which they did not understand; and anything they did not understand
would be attributed to liberalism by the country gentlemen of Pomerania;
partly no doubt it was due to the fact that in 1843 he came back from
Paris wearing a beard. We can see, however, that he was restless and
discontented; he felt in himself the possession of powers which were not
being used; there was in his nature also a morbid restlessness, a
dissatisfaction with himself which he tried to still but only increased
by his wild excesses. As his affairs became more settled he travelled;
one year he went to London, another to Paris; of his visit to England we
have an interesting account in a letter to his father. He landed in
Hull[2], thence he went to Scarborough and York, where he was hospitably
received by the officers of the Hussars; "although I did not know any of
them, they asked me to dinner and shewed me everything"; from York he
went to Manchester, where he saw some of the factories.

"Generally speaking I cannot praise too highly the extraordinary
courtesy and kindness of English people, which far surpass what I
had expected; even the poor people are pleasant, very unassuming,
and easy to get on with when one talks to them. Those who come
much into intercourse with strangers--cab-drivers, porters,
etc.--naturally have a tendency to extortion, but soon give in
when they see that one understands the language and customs and
is determined not to be put upon. Generally I find the life much
cheaper than I expected."

In 1844, his sister, to whom he was passionately devoted, was married to
an old friend, Oscar von Arnim. Never did an elder brother write to his
young sister more delightful letters than those which she received from
him; from them we get a pleasant picture of his life at this time.
Directly after the wedding, when he was staying with his father at
Schoenhausen, he writes:

"Just now I am living here with my father, reading, smoking, and
walking; I help him to eat lamperns and sometimes play a comedy
with him which it pleases him to call fox-hunting. We start out
in heavy rain, or perhaps with 10 degrees of frost, with Ihle,
Ellin, and Karl; then in perfect silence we surround a clump of
firs with the most sportsmanlike precautions, carefully observing
the wind, although we