I can tell any thing to you. Pray, my dear mother, tell it under a feigned name. I should like to pay a visit to England, because I am told the nobility in that country are not so proud as ours; notwithstanding this, Heaven knows what money they spend in Paris; they are fine looking men, but speak very bad French. The French admire nothing of the English but their constitution, but I admire their openness. Goss has taught me to speak a little English, but it is a horrid language to pronounce. I must learn some Italian before I set out for Italy. Did Krebs tell you what happened in Champagne? A stupid carman drove against my carriage, and overturned it; I got into such a passion that I struck the fellow twice. It was some time before I could get the carriage repaired, for the French are mere bunglers at any thing of the kind; it will, however, be a good apology for me to get an English carriage. You must find out what Baron Hertzberg says; every thing that comes from his lips has great weight; but he is too busy with his mulberry-trees to mind the trumpeter’s daughter. Oh! how does that horrid word chill my veins! Krebs is a faithful fellow, but I am afraid he has mentioned something about the bathing scene; it runs in my mind he has. I am afraid to mention it to him, lest I should get into a passion, and then I might say something that would ruin us all. I do not know what they think of me at Dessau; there I know I am hated and envied; Bekker can tell you, but I know it already; I am hated and envied in that vile place, but they do not know all, and that is a consolation. Let us make out our own story, and when it is properly done, we will set them all at defiance. Send the interpretation of my dream. Be kind to Krebs, he is a faithful fellow, and that is all he is good for.
My dearest mother! the very first line of your letter revived my spirits. The interpretation of my dream is delightful, but the very thoughts of the black dog freezes the blood in my veins; yet a dream is but a dream, but then they come to pass,—“My power is but in its infancy!” Oh! that is too flattering! If that is the case, I will yet be revenged of all my enemies. As to the people, a little money will make friends of them at any time, and money shall not be spared when I have an object in view. Baron S——ts will not do; he is still alive, and at present on a tour in Lapland. I wish they could change him into a rein deer; but we must think of somebody else. What do you think of Count L——d; his family is ancient; he is old and vain of his amours. Secrecy is all; if I am able to retain ——, I will laugh at every thing. I affect a total indifference to politics, but they little know that it engrosses all my attention. O heavens! what a figure I shall cut when I return! How my dress will be imitated, and all my airs and motions sought after and copied! Vestris gives me some lessons. I neglect nothing that may render me charming in the eyes of ——; that is my grand object. O dear mother, let me know every thing that you hear! do not spare money; there is nothing can be done without. Lu——ini, I am afraid, is gaining ground every day in a certain ——; I dread the very name of an Italian. I tell you a Frenchman or Italian has more art in his little finger than fifty Germans put together. My very looks are watched in this place, but I think I can cheat them even in that. When they talk of politics, I pretend that I know nothing of the matter; yet it is the most difficult thing in the world to deceive a Frenchman or a French woman. The Marquis de la F——e is a stupid fellow; I do not know how the deuce he has acquired so much popularity. Mirabeau is an artful man; I must be civil to him, as he is writing something, and, perhaps, may say something bitter. Indeed, every one is afraid of him; I tremble at the sight of him. I am afraid he knows the cursed secret of the mill; the only thing, however, in my favor, is, that no one believes what he writes or says, because it is known that he will do any thing to gratify his malignity, or to put money in his pocket, as he is poor. I detest him, and I am afraid he reads it in my eyes. Burn all the papers in the little black box; we do not know what may happen; let us put as little in the power of fortune as possible. I cannot tell you the half of what I want to say. You see the troubles of my mind. O dear ambition! what do we suffer on your account! My hand can’t hold the pen. Send me good news, for if my health should fail, my charms will fail along with it, and then what will become of your dear daughter.
Thus far the original papers of the Countess of Lichtenau, which were found in an escrutore in the yellow room of the palace at Charlottenberg, after her arrestation. The Author then proceeds to a narrative of the events which took place after the demise of the K—g.
Two days previous to the K—g’s death, the Countess asked the Physician, if the case was really dangerous, and how long the K—g might yet hold out. Four and twenty hours, at farthest, was the reply. The Countess immediately collected her papers, and had actually resolved to set off the next morning. But the K—g’s illness gained fast upon him; towards morning he expired, after a hard struggle, and the Countess was arrested by order of his successor, in the Marble-palace at Potsdam. The red Morocco pocket-book, a diamond of immense value, both of which belonged to the K—g, together with a royal signet, forged, were found in her possession. She had about her, in hard cash, 800,000 dollars, and the K—g’s private strong box was found exhausted. A favourite of the Countess, a French emigrant, who was constantly in her company, and then resident at the Marble-Palace, was seized at the same time. Some papers, of a serious nature, were found, likewise, in his possession, and he was immediately conducted to the fortress of Magdeburg.
This artful woman is now in prison. Several attempts have been made, by her associates, to rescue her from her confinement, but they have all been frustrated by the vigilance of the officers under whose custody she is lodged. The enormity of her guilt is beyond all conception. She rose from the meanest extraction and poverty to rank and fortune; in the days of her success her pride knew no bounds, so that she seemed to forget what she had been; many an honest man, through her arts, was precipitated into ruin; and the ties of friendship, and the harmony of an illustrious family, were loosened, and almost dissolved. The new K—g, in taking this step, was not actuated by private hatred, nor personal interest, nor yet mean revenge. To that Prince humanity, truth, honesty, and frankness, will ever be dear. He has consigned her to the law. The Countess of Lichtenau, in the most extensive meaning of the word, is a state-criminal. As such, confinement for life probably will be her lot. There she may do penance for every act of injustice and infamy, and the wrongs of the industrious peasant, who worked hard to support her extravagance; there she may do penance for the millions of groans and curses that have brought down vengeance from Heaven on her guilty head; for the tears of every helpless orphan, whom she thrust from her door, but whose sighs ascended to Him who punishes and rewards according to the scale of immutable justice.
FOOTNOTES:
[4] As the letters, and other writings of the Countess of Lichtenau, reach down to the French revolution and the expedition against that nation, but, having scarce any thing interesting in them, except what concerns the amorous intrigues of an artful woman, the Editor has thought proper to omit all that common-place stuff, to present the Reader with papers of greater importance.