The morning opened with a heavy rain, which acting upon the snow already on the ground, laid our streets some inches under water. The walking was consequently horrible. I went to the Office in the morning but was satisfied to remain at home during the rest of the day. Wrote an answer to my father’s last. It was short and a little dull. I did little else during the morning. Afternoon and Evening passed in reading Mirabeau’s Private History of the Court of Berlin.1
Not very amusing, although good as the models for a spy, into the politics of a Court.