She is safely gone to eternal rest, mother, and we may again be tranquil. During the first fortnight the King has been inconsolable, and would suffer nobody in his presence, for he was actually in love with the silly creature. But he will come round again, I hope. To-morrow I give a fête at Charlottenburg, and there I will muster up what charms I have to rivet the rambler for ever. Your powder, dear mother, must again do the business. I have now good hopes all goes on to my wishes.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] A street in Berlin, so called from the plantation of lime-trees laid out there.
[2] Mademoiselle Voss has a kind of natural wit, some information, is rather more wilful than firm, and is very obviously aukward, which she endeavours to disguise by assuming an air of simplicity. She is ugly, and that even to a degree; and her only excellence is the goodness of her complexion, which I think rather wan than white, and a fine neck; over which she threw a double handkerchief the other day, as she was leaving Prince Henry’s comedy, to cross the apartments, saying to the Princess Frederica, “I must take good care of them, for it is after these they run.” It is this mixture of eccentric licentiousness (which she accompanies with airs of ignorant innocence) and vestal severity, which the world says has seduced the King. Mademoiselle Voss, who holds it ridiculous to be German, and who is tolerably well acquainted with the English language, affects the Anglomania to excess, and thinks it a proof of politeness not to love the French. Her vanity, which has found itself under restraint, when in company with some amiable people of that nation, hates those it cannot imitate, more especially because her sarcasms are returned with interest. Thus, for instance, the other day I could not keep silence when I heard an exclamation, “Oh, heavens! when shall I see, when shall we have an English play! I really should expire with rapture!” For my part, Madam, said I drily, “I rather wish you may not, sooner than you imagine, stand in need of French plays.” All those who began to be offended by her high airs, smiled; and Prince Henry, who pretended not to hear her, laughed aloud. Her face was suffused with blushes, and she did not answer a word, but it is easy to punish, difficult to correct.
She has hitherto declared open war against the mystics, and detests the daughters of the chief favourite, who are maids of honour to the Queen. But as amidst her weaknesses she is transported by devotion even to superstition, nothing may be depended on for futurity.—Mirabeau’s Secret History of the Court of Berlin.
[3] Literally true. Had this good and liberal soul lived longer, the sweat of the brows of the subjects would not have been squandered away in so wanton a manner.
LETTERS
FROM
VIENNA, ITALY, FRANCE, and PYRMONT[4].
One cannot know, my dear A——, what turn this may take with us, at the event of some future change. I therefore, first of all, intend to take a trip to Pisa, as it is called, and there I’ll contrive to place my property, which chiefly consists in good paper and jewels, as advantageously as I can. Let a change take place then, I don’t care, for I know whither to direct my course. Pray let the pamphlet in question be as biting as possible, for it is intended to produce effects. The people shall know that I am the favorite of the King, their Sovereign, and that I was born to command. Rietz will purposely destroy every paper, and every proposal, that comes from that quarter. Werner and Bender have, likewise, disposed the King in a manner, that he will accede to nothing that has not our sanction. He must be amused with all imaginable kinds of entertainments, that may tend to divert his mind so that he may lose all recollection of this business. He is busy with projects concerning the Countess of the Mark; he is looking out for a good match for the sweet creature. Many have already applied to me, wishing to obtain my consent, but none of them would suit. The magnificent monument of marble of Carrara, for my son, is to be ready next week.