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YALE UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY

Bought with the income
of the
HENRY A. HOMES FUND

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^'/aO- ^1777.1 Ic /

MEMOIRS

YOUNG GREEK LADY;
OR,
MADAME
PAULINE ADELAIDE ALEXANDRE PANAM
VERSUS
HIS MOST SERENE HIGHNESS
THE REIGNING
' PRINCE OF SAXE-COBOURG.

The mighty have covered iny face with blood. From the depth of my gvief,
O God! I have invoked thy hand ag? nst their injustice.— Psalms.

LONDON :
PRINTED FOR SHERWOOD, JONES, AND CO.,
PATERNOSTBR-ROW,

MDCCCXXIIl.

TABLE OF CONTENTS.

FIRST PART.

Page
Advertisement . . .... 3
Madame Alexandre Pan am to the Marechal, &c. 5
Answer of the Marechal  8
Note of Madame Panam, &c  23
memoirs of a young greek.
First Part.
Reflections on the object and the boldness of these
Memoirs  25
Birth  28
Education  29
My father ... . . 30
Misfortunes of my family  31
Portrait ..... . . ib.
The Duke of Cobourg  33
Seduction at 14 years  35
The Elm and the Shrub— a Fable ... 36
Departure for Cobourg . . . . 39
Fichler — A comic character ..... 42
The Journey — Adventures in a diligence . . 44

VUI

TABLE OF CONTENTS.

My blunders ....'•
Arrival at Cobourg— Aspect of that capital
First seclusion 
The sheet and the coverlet .
Eberhard, director of the pastures
German house 
My conquests. Forced disguise .
The Countess of MeinstorfF .
Meiu Gott ! ....
First cause of chagrin ....
A second visit to Cobourg
Inconvenient visit of a prince
Return of sensibility ....
Adventures of a night ....
Second seclusion at Amorbach — The Prince
nange — ^Departure from Amorbach .
Portrait of Councillor Tittel
Scene at Cobourg ....
The Duchess -Mother ....
I am in favour .^ . . .
I am a mother, and in want of every thing
Remittance of five louis
Letter of Prince Leopold
Despair and delirium ....
My son born— Horrible distress .
Return of his highness
Solitude at Wilhelrasbad
General L - * *
Affected jealousy ....

of Li-

TABLE OF CONTKNTS. IX
Page
Vidgar letters of his serene highness , . . 100
The two souls  102
Avarice  104
I return to Cobourg in spite of the prince and his
mother ........ 105
Threats and flatteries  .106
I am refused food — My child is beaten . . .Ill

SUPPLEMENT.
Correspondence'of the Duke of Cobourg, the duchess
and their agents, with Madame Al. P. and her
family  113
No. I. Instructions given by the Prince to Pauline
— Orthography of his serene highness . . 115
No. II. The Duke of Cobourg to Pauline— Precau
tions of his serene highness to conceal me from
all eyes and to remove me from all advice . 116
No. m. The Duke to Pauline- A Billet . .117
The same to the same — His serene high
ness forbids me to run or dance . . ib.
The Duchess of Saxe Cobourg to Pauline —
Recommendations, lessons, and un
founded reproaches . . . .118
No. IV. The Duke to Pauline — His serene high
ness is angry that I should have come to demand
from him refuge and support . . . .119
No. V. The Duchess to Pauline, a moralizing letter 121
No. VI. The Duke to Pauline, a billet . . 122

TABLE OF CONTENTS.

Page

No. VII. The same to the same.— Protestations of
love and attachment ..... ^33
No. VIII. The same to the same.— Sermons and
lessons of his serene highness . • : '^.
No. IX. The same to the same . • . .124
No. X. The Duchess of Cobourg to my sister —
Threats of vengeance  125
No. XI. The same to Pauline.— Change of tone . 126
No. XII. The Duke to Pauline . . .127
No. XIII. The same to the same . . .128
No. XIV. The Duchess to Pauline . . .129
No. XV. The Prince Leopold of Saxe- Cobourg to
Pauline — Billet full of severity — Refusal of
money ....... i30
No. XVI. Pauline to the Duchess : — I complain of
the conduct of Prince Leopold and of my
distress ....... ib.
No. XVII. The Duchess to Pauline — Answer —
Contradictions . . . . .131
No. XVIII. Pauline to the Duke of Cobourg before
presenting him with a son . . -133
No. XIX. My sister to the Duke of Cobourg . 135
No. XX. The Duke to Pauline — Cold answer . 136
No. XXI. The same to the same . . .138
No. XXII. The same to the same . . . 1 39
No. XXIII. The same to the same — Promises with
out performance . . . . .140
No. XXIV. The same to the same . . . 143
No. XXV. The same to the same— New promises 143

TABLE OF CONTENTS. XI
I'agc
No. XXVI. The Duke to Pauline . . .144
No. XXVII. The same to the same — Still nothing
but promises . . . . . . 1 46
No. XXVIII. The same to the same— A billet . 147
No. XXIX. The same to the same — Ibid. . . ib.
No. XXX. The same to the same. . . . 148
No. XXXI. The same to the same — Trait of sen
sibility  149
No. XXXII. The same to the same— Arrival of a
Prince . ...... 150
No. XXXIII. The same to the same— Affected jea
lousy in order to cover projects of desertion 131
No. XXXIV. The same to the same — Dexterous
passion  153
No. XXXV. The same to the same— Precious lec
ture and refusal to send me money . .155
No. XXXVI. The same to the same — Comic trait ib-
No. XXXVII. General L. to Pauline . .157
No. XXXVIII. The Duke to Adelaide . . ib.
No. XXXIX. The same to the same . . .158
No. XL. Madame Lingis to her sister Pauline-
Reception at Cobourg . . .159
No. XLI. The Prince to Pauline . .163
No. XLII. Madame Dngis to Pauline . 164
No. XLIII. The Duchess of Cobourg to Pauline-
Advice to go and amuse myself at Paris . 166
No. XLIV. The Duke to Pauline— Wrath . .167
No. XLV. The Duchess to Pauline . . .168
No. XLVI. The same to the same .169

Xll

TABLE OF CONTENTS.

CONTENTS OF THE SECOND PART.

Page

No. XLV II. The Secretary Tittel to Pauline -Ger
man billet  170
No. XLVIII. The same to the same . . . ib.

Second Part
Compromise ....
Stay at Dresden
Happiness of a mother
Cruelty and caprices of the Prince
I lose my pension and have nothing
Generous conduct of M. de Serra
M. Bienne and his hospitality
Frightful distress •
I see the Prince again at Franc fort
The Count de Trogoff
Visit of his Imperial Highness
Change in the Prince's conduct
Departure in an old berline
I am overturned together with my son
Poisonings — Attempts on my life .
I escape by a miracle .
Fichler's lies prove his complicity
The convent of the forest
Another attempt to poison me
I escape from the convent of the forest

173
174 ib,
175 176
177 178179 ib-
182183 ib.
184
185 186 189
190191
192 194
197

TABLE OF CONTENTS. XIU Page
My ai'rival at Vienna ... . . ib.
I write to his Highness . . . . .197
The Prince de Ligne — his counsels . . .198
I see the Prince again  199
The Prince's rage  201
I pardon him . .... 302
Fresh attempts to poison me .... 203
Attempts to take away my child .... 304
The Prince de Ligne's death .... 206
My door is broken open  212
I am abandoned by all the world . . . .213
My Lord Stewart  215
Return to France ...... 216
Postscript  .219
Illustrations and details  221
Advertisement ... . . . . ib.
Note A. First visit of his Imperial Highness . 223
Note B. The Grand Duke's visit and promises 226
Note C. The convent of the forest . . . 33 1
Note D. Dinner . . .... 233
Note E. Fichler frightened-^my escape . 235
Note F. My mother's visit to the Duke . . 237
Note G. Attempts to take away my son . .241
NoteH. Horrible distress  245
Note I. M. de Metternich's interference . . 246
SUPPLEMENT TO THE SECOND PART.
No. I. Contract  251
No. II. M. Verlohren to Pauline . . .252
No. III. Fichler to Pauline . . .253

Xiv TABLE OF CONTENTS. Page
No. IV. His Serene Highness to Pauline 254
No. V. Fichler to Pauline . . . ib.
No. VI. Pauline to her Mother . . • .255
No. VII. The same to the same . . • .257
No. VIII. Madame Ljngis to Adelaide . 259
No. IX. Mademoiselle Aubert to Pauline . . 260
No. X. Letter from the Duke of Cobourg . . 26 1
No. XI. M. Hagen to Pauline . . . .264
No. XII. The Count de Trogoff to Pauline . 265
No. XIII. The Prince de Ligne to Pauline . ib.
No. XIV. The same to the same . . 266
No. XV. The same to the same . . . 267
No. XVL The Count De Trogoff to Pauline . ib.
No. XVII. The Prince de Ligne to Pauline . . 2GS
No. XVIII. The same to the same . . .269
No. XIX. The Duke of Cobourg to Pauline . 271
No. XX. The Countess de Biland to Madame Alex
andre ..... . ib.
No. XXL The same to the same . . . 272
No. XXII. The Duke of Cobourg to Pauline . 274
No. XXIII. Note from Baron Hagen, Minister
of Police . . . . . . . ib.
No. XXIV. The Duke to Pauline . . .275
No. XXV. The same to the same . . . ib.
No. XXVI. M. L  to Madame Alexandre . 277
No. XXVII. Invitation  279
No. XXVIII. Count de Caramau's note . . ib.
No. XXIX. Dieffenbach's letter . H . .280
No. XXX. Count Metternich's letter . ib.

TABLE OF CONTENTS. XV
Page
No. XXXI. M. Javon to Pauline . .281
No. XXXII. The same to the same . . 283
No. XXXIII. M. Javon to Count de Trogoff . 283
No. XXXIV. M. Javon to Madame Alexandre . 285
No. XXXV. The same to the same . . . 286
No. XXXVI. Compromise  288
No. XXXVII. The Duke of Richelieu's note . 292
No. XXXVIII. M. de Blaire to Mad. Alexandre ib.
No. XXXIX. The same to the same . . 293
No. XL. The Duke de Richelieu to Madame Alex
andre ..... . 294
No. XLI. M. Javon to M. de la Ville . 295
No. XLII. M. de la Ville to Madame Alexandre 296
No. XLIII. Letter to Messrs. Stametz and Co. 297
No. XLIV. Chevalier de la Ville to Madame
Alexandre  ihi.
No. XLV. The same to the same . . 298
No. XLVI. The same to the same . 299
No. XLVII. Madame Alexandre to the Duke of
Cobourg ....... ib.
No. XLVIII. Baron de Mohrenheim to Madame
Alexandre ...... 301
No. XLIX. The same to the same . . . 303
No. L. M. D  , Notary, to Madame Alexandre 304
No. LI. The same to the same .... 305

MEMOIRS
OF A
YOUNG GREEK.
PART I.

ADVERTISEMENT.

JL HE two following Letters will inform the Reader
of every thing which it is necessary for him to
know, before he begins to read these Memoirs.
By pxiblishing these two Letters, I save the
Reader from the weariness of a Preface, — a sort of
formal oflfering which is agreeable to nobody, and
which can neither be written nor read without
ennui.

B 2

TWO LETTERS.

MADAME PAULINE-ADELAIDE ALEXANDRE PANAM,
To Monsiegneur le Mar. — P. — De i * * * *

Monsieur le Marechal,
Ought I to publish my memoirs ? Your age,
your intelligence, your rank, and the friendship
which you have shown me, induce me to address
myself to you as a man of all others the best quali
fied to solve this question.
My heart repels the undertaking. It would be
necessary to reveal the weakness of my early in
fancy, and the guilt of the father of my child. It
would be necessary to find out a theatre and to pre
sent myself as a spectacle. What a character for
a woman ?
I cannot, however, pass over my drcumstances.

letter

The man whose honour I fear to sacrifice, whose
sensibility I dread to wound, has totally snatched
me from the world. He has made my life a desert ;
he has taken from me my happiness, and has
robbed me even of hope. In early life he inflicted
the tenderest wounds on my heart, and thus
prepared the misery of my declining years. I had
some beauty, a hope of happiness, a family, friends,
honour in my heart, and innocence in my life.
Now arrived at that age when women begin to per
ceive the departure of their youthful bloom, behold
me, thanks to this man, bowed down by adversity,
and after having wasted my existence in a foreign
land, become a stranger in the bosom of my be
loved France : my mind sickened with the tedious
sorrows I have endured, my health impaired by
many physical suflFerings ; without resource ; de
graded, not by my conscience, but by the prejudices
of society ; deprived of every thing in fine, except
of my son who calls upon me for support and bread !
Ought I to hesitate ? Are there not circum
stances in which the decencies of the world ought to
yield to decencies of a higher order — those of
nature ?
To draw the eyes of the European public upon

OP UV. ALEX. PANAM. 7
my misfortunes — ought I to do this ? You know
me ; you know the world and the circumstances of
my life. I will be guided by the advice of one of
the most respectable and intelligent men in Eu-
rope, and the only one, perhaps, in an elevated
rank and gifted with all the accomplishments of
the mind, who has inspired me with an unqualified
confidence, and a perfect esteem.
A. P.

letter

ANSWER.

LE MARECHAL P. DE L****.
To Madame Alexandre Panam.
I AM by no means disinterested, Madame, in the
question which your friendship has submitted to me.
Chance and my ancestors have made me noble ;
my heart and a lively interest for you have made me
your friend. As the grandchild of a certain number
of chevaliers, I would say to you : Spare princes ;
do not publish : as a friend, I would entreat you to
publish. It is fortunate to be born a prince : good sense
and humanity have their privileges also. Every
honest and feeling man would be touched by your
misfortunes : he would silence the interests of
his rank, overlook its prejudices and its esprit de
corps, and would say to you, " Yes, Madame, phi
losophy, humanity, your interest, and the instruc
tion of the powerful of the earth, demand the pub
lication of your Memoirs."
If, like so many other women, you had only filled

OF MARECHAL P. DE L-

in a German court the station of mistress ; if, de
prived of this occupation, you sought to complain
against a dismissal which you might consider un
just, my language would be different.
If even a new La Valli^re, captivated by the
splendour of rank, you had too easily yielded your
heart to the seductions of a faithless prince, I would
have pitied you ; but, at the same time, I would
have recommended to you to adhere to that silent
and modest grief which so well becomes your sex
and your fine mind.
But the case is different. When you were
taken away from your country, you were neither
arrived at that maturity of sense or of years, when
the attractions of life begin to be appreciated.
There are, I know, attachments so fervent, that
in spite of the greatest wrongs suffered on either
side, they always leave behind them a sacred re
membrance, which is apt to extinguish the spirit of
revenge in the bosom of the injured party. Had
I supposed the prince guilty only of ingratitude and
fickleness, I know not if my heart would have for
given you the complete revelation of his faults.
Between two souls which have once understood
one another, it may be said there is a mysterious

10 LETTER
link which ever subsists, and which no altercations
can destroy.
But how different is this case ! On one side,
feebleness ; on the other, power :— on one side,
fourteen years, beauty, and imprudence; on the
other, a prince become a father, and permitting
his son to be born in poverty ! . . . . Publish, Ma
dame ; it is right that all Europe should know it.
Your book will make a noise. It will inflict on
the powerful the only punishment as yet capable of
reaching them : it will carry into all the countries
of this old continent the story of your misfortune ;
it will transmit it to a future age ; and will immor
talize your complaint and their shame.
I am sorry that in the brief narrative which you
have transmitted to me, you have left out interest
ing details; and that your emotion, your modesty,
and your kind heart, have refused frequently to
say things which would have painted men, and
would have shown yourself such as you are.
Your hand has hastened too much to permit you
to trace your own portrait, and if you had in
trusted it to me, although fifteen lustres have
introduced a little tremulousness into mine, I think
I should have done more justice to that singular

OF MARECHAL P. DE L  . 11
character which distinguishes you ; I would have
presented you such as you appeared the first time
I saw you on the public walk of Vienna, elastic
and animated in your movements, full of noble and
peculiar gracefulness, all airiness and majesty, and
recalling to mind less the young French girl seduced
by a German highness, than the daughter of
those burning climes beneath which Aspasia was
born, and Juno grew under the chisel of Scopas.
I should have liked, also, more minute details of
the Gothic manners amidst which you were con
demned to live, a more complete surrender of
your mind to the subject, and sometimes a little
more humour. It is true, indeed, you might thus
have derogated from that dignity of misfortune
which continually guided your pen, and I cannot
blame you after all for not having shown, except in
a corner of your picture, Tartuffe-Fichler, Bazile-
Tittel, and those secondary performers, whose cha
racters attract your attention for a few moments,
but do not long engage it.
You will find in the publication of your Memoirs,
the means of ultimately awakening that noble
Court which suffers your infant to languish and

12 LETTER
decay. As a citizen, as a native of France, as a
woman, as a mother, you ought to publish.
If an untitled man had seduced your infancy,
had sullied your youth, and had accumulated de
spair for your latter. years, an appeal to the ordinary
tribunals would have been your duty. The party is a
foreigner ; he is a prince, you are unknown, — you
are poor, — you have a mother, — you have an infant.
This unhappy boy, whose features so exactly
resemble those of his father, and whose sombre
countenance seems to bear the traces of all your
misfortunes; this child whom you love so affec
tionately, for whom you have suffered so severely,
and who has given you courage to attempt so
much, calls upon you to attempt still more.
As a woman, it is right for you to fix public at
tention upon the fortunes and social situation of
your sex. Are women to be for ever the degraded
playthings of princes and their valets ? Does not
the security of the weaker sex belong to the dearest
interests of society ? Here, assuredly, is a subject
worthy to be profoundly meditated upon by all
those who think, at a period when the whole of
Europe is occupied in making reforms.

OF MARECHAL P. DE L  . 13
That a prince should have taken away a young
girl of fourteen years ; — that he should have forced
her to quit the beauteous soil of France, to exile
herself to a frightful solitude, under the melancholy
skies of Germany, far away from all her friends and
her amusements ; — ^that, in this desert place, he
should have subjected her to privations, to rigours
and grievances of every sort ; — that she should have
borne him a son, and that this son of a prince
should have been wrapped, at the moment of his
birth, in the swaddling clothes of misery; — that
immediately after, irritated at recognising himself
in the features of his child, this father should have
armed himself with all his ingenuity, and all his
power, against his deserted mistress and his un
happy child; — this, indeed, is frightful conduct.
It has come too late. Forty years sooner, it would
have appeared less astonishing ; at this day, it ex
cites surprise and terror. Manners have changed.
The conduct of the Duke of Coburg is of his rank,
but not of his time. The ancient manners of courts
are the only excuse that can be alleged for it.
It is an old maxim, that the air of courts is fatal
to virtue. All the moralists, from Theophrastes
down to Labruyere, have repeated this axiom.

14 LETTER
The reputation of Plato, and the stoicism of Seneca,
are still tarnished by a transient sojourn in a place so
fatal to their glory. From the banquets of Sar-
danapalus to those of the regent, the history of
palaces is but a brilliant history of vices.
I behold these annals open before me. Those
demigods of the east, the Dariuses, the Semira-
mises, are surrounded with eunuchs, and people de
voted to their pleasures. The infancy of society
witnesses the depravity of princes. While the in
dustrious, by the sweat of their brow, invent the
plough and the share, a courtier of the great king
goes about proclaiming to the cities and villages,
a reward will be given to the fortunate man who will
discover one pleasure more for the monarch.
I trust that some philosopher will impose upon
himself the task of finishing a picture which I can
scarcely sketch. While Socrates dies, and Demosthe
nes thunders, seethe cowardly Assyrians and Medes
languish in their flowing robes ; see on one side a
degree of heroism that must ever astonish men ;
and on the other the perfection of baseness.
Thus, history may be divided into two zones.
The high places of society are surrounded by an
atmosphere of contagion and disgrace, and all the

OF MARECHAL P. DE L  . 1.5
clouds of vice seem to gather round the top of the
edifice ; on the contrary, on the lowest ground, the
domestic and public virtues, every thing which
crowns men with honour, embellishes existence, and
redeems the evils of life, spring, and grow up like
vigorous plants.
At this time, when such manners are fading
away, there is no longer any danger in consigning
them to impartial history. It is right to do justice
to the inhabitants of palaces. In the grand social
ferment which is going on, they have lost their
ancient habits. The ground trembles ; there is no
longer a debate about presiding at a festival nor of
making a horse a consul, nor a freedwoman an em
press. It is precisely at such a period as this the
historiographer of courts ought to arise.
If he be a painter, here are subjects worthy of
him. In the palaces of the lower empire, indigent
luxury, pomp without majesty, voluptuousness
without attraction, women without affection, and
men without energy. In another quarter, amidst
the republics of Italy, the courts of Leo the Great
and of the Medici, are fruitful in curious and de
graded talents, in pardoned assassinations, in san-

10 LETTER
guinary acts of treachery and unfortunate genius.
There, Machiavel traced out his code of tyranny,
that grand problem in which so many sovereigns
have read their gospel, and so many philosophers
have seen an irony. There, Borgia surpassed Nero
in cruelty, Tiberius in perfidy, Heliogabalus in de
bauchery. There, the Omnipotent was daily ad
dressed with prayers which were outrages ; and so
many vices were joined to so many outward demon
strations of piety, that Dante, indignant at such
a profanation, cried out, 0 superbo stupro! —
" frightful debauchery !"
On a bed of straw in a prison, flung amidst the
ruins of human reason, Tasso expiated the folly of
having introduced his genius into a court. Ariosto,
that magician of poetry, whose enchanting inven--
tions will endure forever, was treated like a buffoon
by a magnificent prince, who was but too fortu
nate in being mentioned in his verses.
The reader of history is wearied with such scenes.
The simplicity of new-born protestantism affords
a slight consolation. This return to the religion of
the humble, and the poor, and the unfortunate,
sheds a sweet light over those melancholy pages

OF LE MARECHAL P. DE L  • 17
Switzerland, which has no palaces, has for a long
time preserved her creed, her amusements, her re
pose, and her citizens. The imperceptible re
public of Geneva, which has no prince, and which
many princes threaten, opposes to them the bul
wark of its opinion, its industry, and its manners.
the midst of her grave habits, she nourishes her
intellect with the recollections of ancient grandeur.
Rousseau will be born within her walls ; Madame
de Stael will belong to her ; and that universal ge
nius, Voltaire, will go to watch over her.
It is true that Geneva, without a court, consists
of poor watch-makers and citizens. How people
must have laughed at it when the brilliant Hamil
ton, or the grotesque Roquelaure, thought proper
to make the republic a subject of merriment.
The magnificent lords trudging on foot to council,
with a farthing rush-light before them ! How ludi
crous ! And it was at Versailles these jests were
passed,— Versailles, the building of which cost the
kingdom ten years' revenue ! There flourished the
haughty Montespan, the mild and unfortunate La
Valli^re ; and, without mentioning the crowd of other
mistresses, chosen from every rank by the capricious
taste of monarchs, there reigned that prudish
c

18 LETTER
coquette, that devout courtezan, Madame de Main-
tenon, condemned to the punishment of amusing a
prince who could no longer be amused with any
thing, and who was tired of vice as he was of
glory. Where has the most common, and the most inge
nious, use of poison been made? Where has the
art of lying been pushed to the highest degree?
Where have individuals decked themselves out with
vice, as if it were an ornament, and with contempt
for men, as if it gave them a superiority? Where has
baseness become a necessity? Where do indivi
duals tax themselves, in order to invent excuses for
the follies of the prince, and rival each other to
approach nearest to his vices? Where was Dubois
formed ? Where did the Jefferies and the Lau-
bardemonts find courage to be atrocious ? Where
did the Saumaises and the Machiavels imbibe the
virulency which stains their pages ? Who were
those that fell on their knees before a Pompadour,
and placed under the axe the innocent but too
haughty head of the unfortunate Lally ? Where
are to be found, in all ages, the men who made
their degradation a title to superiority, and com
bined more cruelty with more elegance, more

OF LE MARECHAL P. DK L  . 19
pride with more self-denial of all dignity, in a word,
more vice with more baseness? In courts.
The traces of a court in a nation are irremov
able: that of Charles II. in England, has left for
its vestiges debauchery imprinted on all the lite
rary productions of his time, and a school of comedy
which seems to have been intended for representa
tion before Messalina, by the actors of Caprea.
That of the regent of France may be considered as
the parent of that filthy and tiresome class of books,
which at present form part of the education of
youth in France. It has also imparted to our man
ners that pliability without energy, that art of talk
ing, that apathy of action, and that restlessness,
which give to a people neither the courage to exist,
nor that of existing inconveniently without com
plaining, nor patience to suffer, nor determination
to suffer no longer.
In Asia, in Europe, in Spain, in Italy, you will
find traces of the character of the ancient courts.
Sometimes brilliant, they resemble those silvery
traces which reptiles leave on quitting ruins. They
impress themselves like marks, and spread them
selves like stains.
Amidst the snows of the North, we have seen
C 2

20 LETTER
the virile passions of a female sovereign reproduc
ing in a philosophical age the seraglios of Semira-
mis, and the fantastic love of a woman naming
generals and magistrates.
But I now feel it ; so many hideous pictures
would fatigue by their monotony. Vices always
under the purple ; festivals and palaces stained with
blood or infamy: men ever divesting themselves of
their dignity; man always forgetting that he is
man. Courts resemble each other in the two he
mispheres, in all ages and in all latitudes.
In effect, when every pleasure is collected round
one person ; when the will of the community is de
pendent on that of one individnal as on a centre,
in a place where nobody thinks, where only one
hierarchy of baseness is established, what virtues
can shew themselves ?
In following these examples, the Prince of Co
burg is doubtless not excusable; but his rank,
which in the view of morality aggravates his fault,
in that of experience explains and extenuates with
out eflacing it.
It was, perhaps, too much to expect from a prince
that he should forget all these examples, and should
be as moderate in his caprices, and a^ decent even

OF LE MARECHAL P. DE L  . 21
in his vices, as a simple inhabitant of Madrid or of
Stockholm. But if this social superiority be a
blessing which exposes his serene highness to less
severe scrutiny, at least he should not have abused
such a privilege.
Your duty. Madam, is to publish your Memoirs,
which will bring back his serene highness to the
notions of the age in which he lives. The age de
mands them as warnings, as lessons, as menaces
for power, and as materials for the history of man
ners.
LE MARECHAL P. DE L****.

22

NOTE.

I HAVE followed the advice of the marechal. I
have written with simplicity ; and I now publish
the story of my misfortunes. I have introduced
into the second volume, separately, the details
which he reproaches me with having omitted ; and
in a supplement I have added the original letters
which will serve as documents for my narration.
The applications to me to give up my child have
not ceased since these Memoirs have been written.
I could not do it : it was in vain they attempted to
bribe a mother. My child is my only blessing :
they thought to take him away an hundred times ;
they have tried it for the last time.
I am forced to answer these people as another
mother, in a foreign tragedy.
" What I take him from me ?
No ; we must never part !
'Tis the last of comforts I have left.
And when he falls,

NOTE.
All goes along with him. . . . Oh !
I live but in my child !
No ; let me beg my bread
From door to door, to feed his daily wants,
Rather than always lose him ! "
Southern's Fatal Marriage.

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.

FIRST PART.

A WOMAN deceived ought to put up with her mis
fortunes : such is the opinion of society. To declare
her miseries is to reveal her shame. It is to draw
upon her a disdainful pity or a barbarous irony.
We are not permitted even to accuse ourselves.
Men may boast of the victims they have sacri
ficed ; but a woman must be silent upon her
struggles as upon her errors, — upon her virtues as
her frailties. She must stifle her groans; she is
not suffered to complain, still less to excuse her
self at the expense of her accomplice or her
sacrificer. I should b6 silent, then, had I been only a

26 MEMOIRS OF A YOU.NG GREEK.
victim: but I am a mother, — but I have a son.
It is for thee, my child, for whom I lift my voice ;
it is for thee that I brave, weak woman as I am,
without friend and without assistance, the ven
geance of courts.
For my child I have often looked death in the
face, and misery more cruel than death, and shame
more cruel than misery. For him I dare to reveal
my frailty, my misfortunes, my chagrins, and to put
the public in the melancholy possession of an error,
alas too dearly expiated ! The woman, who for a
long time bathed with tears a rude bed of straw,
rather than deliver up her child, shall she be
stopped by ordinary considerations?
Fourteen years of sighs, of sufferings, and secret
afflictions, could not bend the man whom I accuse.
During fourteen years I in vain demanded of him
bread for my child. A prince has seen his offspring
scarcely covered with the rags of distress ; and that
death towards which hunger and poverty were
daily dragging on the mother and child, he did not
seek to delay.
In writing these Memoirs, I know the dangers
and the anger which I am calling down upon me.

MEMOIRS OF A VOliN'G GREEK. 27
I am about to reveal honors. It is upon one of
the sovereign princes that my accusations are about
to fall.
They flattered themselves, in their elevated sta
tion, that the feeble.: vengeance of a young woman
could never reach them. The noblest court in
Europe deemed itself impregnable to the blows
which an unknown and weak hand levelled against
it * * * * ; but they have deceived themselves:
the hand of a mother dare do any thing.
I am no longer a young, airy, tender girl, taken
away at the age of fourteen by a sovereign seducer.
I am a mother ; and fourteen years of persecution
have given me courage. Stratagems, perfidies,
from which a merciful Providence (whom I daily
thank) has protected me, as it were, by a miracle ;
every thing which they have attempted, every thing.
which they have dared against a woman of nine
teen years, these are my support and my strength.
I am not ignorant of their credit, nor their power,
nor their audacity, nor their baseness. After what
they have already done, what is there which they
would not dare ?
I ought to fear every thing now that I discover

2S MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
their secrets, and that I give up to the indignation
of Europe their most Serene transgressions.
Nevertheless, take care. From this moment I
place myself under the protection of a power which
knows how to punish. Public justice watches over
my life. I desire as much, perhaps, for yourselves
as for the unfortunate child, to whom my assistance
is necessary, that death may not surprise me after
the publication of these Memoirs * * * *. From
this day, in the eyes of Europe, informed of your
conduct, the responsibility of my life rests upon you.
My persecutor took me away from my family
before the age when education is finished. I had
scarcely emerged from infancy when I became a
mother. My child had scarcely quitted the bosom,
which for two years had nourished him, than his
cries importuned in vain for that food which was
to supply the want of his mother's milk. Born in
Provence, taken into Germany, always suffering,
wandering, and oppressed, I had neither the leisure
nor the courage to give myself up to those studies,
which form a good writer. Deceived in a first
affection, my heart has known no more than two
passions, — love for my mother, and love for my

MEMOIRS OK A YOUNG GREEK. 29
unhappy child ; entirely engrossed by these senti
ments, and by my tribulations, I could not cultivate
my mind.
Religion alone solaced me in my despair : prayers
filled up for me the place of books. When I read,
the author whom I consulted appeared to me cold ;
he afforded me no consolation.
Thus my only education was the education of
misfortune. After so stormy and so melancholy a
life, the narration which I am about to make will
doubtless be deficient in order, elegance, and pre
cision. May my attachment to truth supply the defects
of my style 1 I shall confess every thing : I shall
not palliate either my own faults or those of others.
If sometimes shame restrains my pen, I will
look at my child and go on without hesitation. I
do violence to my feelings to trace these pages
which my enemies will shudder to read. I shall
have more than one tear bursting from my heart :
my self love will check me more than once in the
midst of the sacrifice which it has made of itself.
But whatever these confessions may cost me, every
body will recognise a scrupulous fidelity in this
painful recital.

30 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
My father's name was Alexander Panam. He
was a Greek and i-esided at Smyrna. Perhaps I
owe to the blood which he transmitted to me, a
pride which a thousand outrages could not humble,
and a maternal tenderness which was stronger even
than my pride. When the Turks, giving the fore
taste of those horrors which signalize our age,
massacred the inhabitants of Smyrna in 1780, my
father had scarcely time to throw himself into a ship,
in order to escape from the Ottoman sabre.
He disembarked at Marseilles, without any other
treasure than his industry ; it was sufficient to re
pair his fortune. He possessed the secret of giving
a red dye to cotton ; he availed himself of it, and
established a manufactory at Marseilles which
speedily prospered.
France had given him a country and an honour
able livelihood, when a revolution, begun for free
dom overturned the fortunes of a Greek fugitive,
who had come to seek for liberty in a foreign
country. His frames were destroyed : befell sick and died.
I was then very young ; but his noble countenance
is always present to my thoughts. Ah ! lund he
lived he would have protected his daiisrliter !

MEMOIRS OF A YOUN'G GREEK. .31
His loss left me without any other support than
a mother, whose health was precarious, a sister
and a little brother. My mother, obliged to watch
over the last interests of our broken fortune, made
frequent journeys to Paris and to Lyons. I remained
alone with my sister.
The misfortunes of my family solely occupied me.
I only wished for the moment when my mother
could at length enjoy repose : all my thoughts and
my affections were centred in these two persons ;
and in the state of inquietude in which we lived,
I received none of those lessons which afford to ad
vanced life either an amusement or a means
of subsistence. I neither prepared myself for pros
perity or adversity.
I may say it without periphrasis, now that a
severe lesson has been taught me at the price of
beauty — I was handsome. Men told me of it, they
repeated it frequently ; but whatever have been
their protestations upon this subject, this trifling
advantage must have made little impression upon
them, for with respect to me, they were as prodigal
of cruelties as of flatteries.
At fourteen years of age I was sufficiently calcu-

.32 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
lated to attract notice : my figure was slender and
well formed, my step remarkably light., I pos
sessed that character of countenance by which the
daughters of Greece are so easily distinguished,
and those decided features and those well-turned
black eyes and long eye-lashes, which characterize
almost all the women of Chios and Smyrna : a sort
of beauty which is not met with in Europe, and
the piquante peculiarity of which, though not per
haps its superiority, is seldom disputed.
Our domestic affairs became every day more and
more embarrassed. It was with difficulty any jus
tice was done to the solicitations of three women,
one feeble and in years, ite another young and a
widow, and the third still a child. To fill up the
measure of our misfortunes, my brother fell sick
at Lyons ; my mother hastened to attend him, and
left my sister and myself at Paris.
Under her care he soon recovered. We heard
of his restoration to health, at the same time that a
card for a ball was sent to us. In the first emotions
of my joy, I entreated ray sister to take me to the
assembly. There I received the frivolous and interested at-

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK. 33
tentions of some men ; the women looked upon me
with eyes of jealousy ; I understood the language
neither of one or the other. My innocence, or my
ignorance, was complete. A tall young man, whose
head, a little inclined, was covered with black hair
naturally curled, did me the honour to pay me
marked attention, and to chat with me a long time ;
it was the Duke of Saxe-Coburg.
His step was noble ; his figure and appearance
handsome and elegant ; his conversation, a little
constrained, but fashionable ; it betrayed rather as
surance than facility, confidence rather than ease.
I observed, without pain, the earnestness with
which several women followed him with their eyes ;
I was flattered with the attentions which he paid to
me alone.
A lively curiosity, joined to a slight feeling of
vanity, were the only impressions which remained
after I saw the prince. He praised my vivacity,
my gracefulness, and gaiety ; I ventured to banter
him with all the giddiness of my age. He wished
to know my name ; indiscreet friends informed him
of it. He soon found out my residence, and in
three days after he came to see us.
On entering our residence he divested himself of
D

34 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
that cold and reserved haughtiness which at once
reveals the egotism of a man convinced and satis
fied of his own superiority ; he appeared to take a
warm interest in our embarrassments ; a prince,
and possessed of power, he offered us his support,
his credit, and his fortune.
His visits were repeated ; we saw him with
pleasure, and it ended in our looking upon him as
a brother. His conversation was more serious
with my sister ; with me it was trivial and almost
infantile : I was then not quite fourteen.
I loved him ; yes, I loved him sincerely, inno
cently, tenderly. With me the sentiment was
purer than passion, warmer than friendship, softer
than gratitude. The prince always presented to
my imagination a charming perspective ; he every
day advanced in our favour ; he appeared to take
the whole family under his protection.
" Our prospects (he said) gave him pain ; I should
one day become a companion to his sister, the
grand Duchess Constantino; he would place my
sister at the head of a house of business in Coburg.
He was attached to us as if we were of his own
family ; he could never quit us ; his heart would
break at the thought of it." Alas ! he has since

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK. 35
taught me too well how difiicult it is to soften
the heart of a prince, and how wide a difference
there is between such a heart and that of an
honest man.
He did not confine himself to promises ; he bar
gained for a shop at Coburg ; he made solicitations
in favour of my mother. Wanting that experience of
the world which is often purchased at the expense of
virtue, we blessed from day to day so generous a
protector. In the young fervour of my devotion, I
prayed for him, and I mentioned it to him ; he
laughed, and encouraged me to pray for him again.
Our mistakes often excited his mirth : one day I
took his plumed footman for a sovereign, who
was waiting for him at the door, and I ran to tell
him ; he laughed at my simplicity, calling me his
dear little innocent; these were the very words.
He treated me like a child ; he caressed me, and
bade me call him father. I wept in his arms, and
called him our guardian angel, and the benefactor
of our family.
I am convinced that the prince used address
in this matter; perhaps, indeed, a great deal
too much. Such complicated resources of se
duction were a superfluous compliment which he
D 2

36 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
paid me. A child full of gratitude and tender
ness did not call for so much precaution ; my igno
rance, simplicity, and confiding youth were quite
sufficient. But the prince conceived that he must bring
into play all the passions of the young girl ; he
flattered my self-love, encouraged my inclinations,
pointed out to me every day the good fortune which
awaited my family, took care to lessen, by degrees,
the distance between us, and infused the poison,
drop by drop, with an ability upon which he has since
valued himself a great deal too much in the world.
I was presented to princes ; the duke accom
panied these presentations with the most flattering
expressions. Sometimes he confided to me the
secrets of his family ; sometimes he told me that
ever so many women were languishing in illness
from a hopeless love which his mere presence had
enkindled in their hearts ; Madame D. de Y. was
dying for him ; a young woman came to him pri
vately with a billet ; I begged him to lend it to
me, and I read in it the following fable :
THE ELM AND THE SAPLING.
Beneath a tall elm's stately shade,
A sapling raised its humble head ;

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK. 37
" Ah, sir, look down upon my grief.
Support my weakness, lend rehef.
Else creeping o'er the lowly ground.
My shoots will wander wildly round."
The prayer was beard. — ^The forest's pride,.
Drew the soft tendril to its side ;
The plant grew up, and soon 'twas seen.
Waving amidst the branches green.
Be thou, sweet prince, the generous tree.
Bid the poor tendril cling round thee ;
Deign from thy stately height in air.
To hear the sapling's humble prayer. ]
The reading of this by no means produced upon
me the desired effect ; my pride scarcely could bend
itself to such ideas of protection and lowliness;
the prince was a hundred times greater in my eyes
as the benefactor of my family than as the reigning
Prince of Saxe-Coburg.
He soon saw that he was deceived, and he re
sumed his former manner; he was a friend, a
father, a brother, who begged of us to receive him
without any ceremony. Thus he came to us at all
hours of the day; sometimes he dined with my
sister and me ; sometimes he took us to the Tui-
leries : he was seldom absent from us.
When the weather was bad, we remained within
doors to chat together ; he taught me the geo-

38 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
graphy of Germany, and gave me the most fasci
nating, though not, perhaps, the most exact details,
on the manners of that country ; German kindness,
German frankness, German sensibility were his
inexhaustible theme. He spoke to me of war,
campaigns, ambition, politics, and interested my
youthful vanity by a display of his own.
Ah ! how events by removing from me my mo
ther, and leaving me without advice or assistance,
plunged me into the misfortunes which awaited me!
My sister was sometimes absent : nobody knew
better than the prince, our only friend and insepa
rable companion, the usual arrangement of our
time. He came one morning : I had been ill for
several days, and was still in bed : my sister was
out. The duke familiarly entered my bed-chamber.
His countenance had a melancholy air ; he had a
letter in his hand : " My dear girl," he said to
me, " I am unhappy; my affairs make it neces
sary for me to return to Germany : I must go — I
must quit you."
I began to shed warm tears. He sat at the foot
of my bed, and kissed them away. As I had only
just awoke, nervous and weak, this intelligence
overwhelmed me. I had not strength to resist his

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK. 39.
caresses, I could only sigh. The more he spoke to
me of his painful departure, the more I wept, the
more he dried away my tears, and the less able was
I to disengage myself from his arms. He took ad
vantage of my situation, my grief, my ignorance,
and my weakness. I was guilty without being
conscious of my fault. Never, perhaps, did wo
man fall so blindly into an abyss. I was then four
teen years of age.
At the end of fifteen days, the prince, who had
not ceased to visit us, and in whom I remarked an
increased vanity, the cause of which I could not
penetrate, told me, as he was looking at himself in
a glass, according to his custom:
" Pauline, you cannot remain here longer." —
" What is the reason, prince 1" He came near me,
took me by the hand, and said, with an affected
sigh, " My poor child, you are enceinte." — *' En
ceinte ! impossible ; we are not married." Ernest
smiled. " Your accouchement cannot be in Paris,"
he continued ; " come to Coburg. I have advised
my sister of it : you will be one of her ladies of ho
nour. Every thing is arranged."
I was so stupified with what I heard, and I must
say so foolish, that I made no objection, except go-

40 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
ing so far from my mother, the length of the jour
ney, and the difficulty of setting out alone.
I mentioned nothing of this to my sister. Sim
ply upon the assertion of the prince, I believed I
was enceinte. The bare thought of such a thing
made me dangerously ill. The duke came every
day to see me. A slow fever brought me to the
verge of the grave. His physician, whom he sent
to attend me, repeatedly told him that my indispo
sition proceeded from some secret cause, and that
his skill could do me no service so long as I perse
vered in my silent and obstinate chagrin.
In the mean time, my mother announced to me
her speedy return, and the prince his departure.
According to him my place was kept for me at Co
burg, and I was impatiently expected.
It was a very fine destiny for a young girl with
out fortune ! My sister and my mother, to whom
my fault was unknown, conceived it their duty to
sacrifice their regard for me to this brilliant pro
spect. It was decided, that as soon as I was re
covered I should set out with my little niece Jose
phine. The prince could not set out with us. A thou
sand obstacles were against the idea of two young

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK. 41
girls travelling without protection; but he ar
ranged every thing. Every thing, thanks to his
foresight and attention, was settled beforehand ;
we were recommended to the conducteurs of the dili
gence. Male dresses were prepared for us, which,
by disguising our sex, and making us pass for
young school-boys, might guard us against a part
of the dangers of the journey.
I was so taken up with the idea of my being en
ceinte, with the grief with which it would over
whelm my relatives, and the shame which awaited
myself ; my family was so persuaded that an ho
nourable situation was destined for me at Coburg ;
and in the midst of my fretting I had such unli
mited confidence in the honour of the prince, that
every one of us contributed almost equally to hasten
this unhappy journey. Alas! it was destined to
punish with sufficient cruelty an instance of frailty
which indeed was too culpable on my part, but
which ought not to have found the instrument of
its punishment in the very man who had pre
pared it, and who profited of it with such cold
ingenuity. During the latter days of my illness, I had an in
terview with a person who plays a sufficiently dis-

42 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
tinguished part in the sequel of this melancholy
history. Let me take advantage of this opportu
nity to expose to ridicule a man, whom, in the
course of my Memoirs, I never could name without
horror. It was seven o'clock : I could not then get up : a
violent head-ach had rendered me incapable for
two days of speaking or of doing any thing.
I heard a loud wheedling voice say, with a
German accent, to my sister, " Is she, then, very
sick ? poor creature !" My sister replied, " Oh no,
sir ; it is only a headach. You may come in ;
there is nothing to fear."
I raised my head half out of bed to have a better
view of the figure to which such a voice belonged.
I perceived a sort of head covered with a wig, pow
dered, frizzed, and shaped pyramidically, which
advanced timidly ; and, upon nearer approach, I
could observe, through the half-open door, a lean
figure, with a long nose, blue twinkling eyes, the
whole bearing a character of terror as grotesque,
and of hypocrisy as profound, as any that appeared
since Tartuffe or his original had exercised the
pencil of Callot or of Moliere.
Baron de Fichler (such was the name of the

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK. 43
minister, and friend of the prince) had a horror of
sick people ; he shunned them as he would the
plague. Commissioned by his master to hand to
us the money necessary for our journey, he did not
dare to enter my chamber with it, from fear of being
infected with my malady.
He merely set one foot within the threshold.
To a grimace of politeness, succeeded a grimace
of fear ; and to this grimace of terror succeeded
one of pity. I burst out laughing. " Ah ! he
laughs," said he in broken French ; the poor little
sick creature ; he has then no fever." Thus re
mained the Baron Fichler at the door, his body
outside, and his head within my chamber, whilst
my sister was drawing a receipt for the money;
then he counted it over with all imaginable pre
caution and snatching up the paper decamped
with it.
I soon recovered, and we set out. Alas ! how
quick had been the succession of events which redu
ced me to the situation in which I now found myself.
What an accumulation of misery had been reserved
for me ! I was as yet upon the threshold of life,
for I had not passed my fourteenth year. A bril-

44 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
liant illusion dazzled my view of the future, my error
having been so unforeseen and so transient. The
promises of a prince were to me as august as they
ought to be sacred, — so implicitly did I confide in
the sincerity of his pledges, and so completely did I
resign myself to his guidance.
The journey was long, and the diligence stopped
frequently. This tediousness, aud the originality
of the people who tenanted the unwieldy vehicle,
gave rise to numberless ridiculous adventures,
which would, under other circumstances, have
been a fund of amusement to me. I am not natu
rally insensible to the ridiculous, and I was full
of the vivacity of youth ; but my misfortunes had
so oppressed my spirits, that I was incapable of
observing any thing. I fell into a profound re-
very, from which the disputes and singularities of
my fellow-travellers were in vain calculated to
rouse me, — for the sense of my deserted situation,
of my fault, and my troubles, quickly triumphed
over this momentary distraction.
Night came on, and we fell asleep. Even from
this circumstance I was doomed to suffer new in
conveniences. My comb fell out of my head, and

MEMOIRS OP A YOUNG GREEK. 45
my black hair fell in profusion upon my shoulders ;
when morning appeared, I found that my sex had
been discovered.
I was now assailed by questions from all sides.
My only reply was a torrent of tears. One af
fected to pity my youth and my weakness ; a
German lady offered me protection ; an officer
made tender proposals, and a merchant paid his
disagreeable court to me. A sermon was preach
ed to me by a religieuse, which redoubled my
ennui. My sufferings for the remainder of the journey
were incalculable. The importunities of some, and
the gallantries of others, compassion and curiosity,
and moral lessons and questions overpowered me.
I endured all the pains of martyrdom.
And I was still a child, and without a pro
tector. To every question I answered by my tears ;
but the pity which these excited became ano
ther source of torment to me. The young man,
having become my lover the moment he discovered
my sex, followed, and beset me, and obliged me to
shut myself within my chamber to bar my door
at the inns, and to appeal to the protection of

46 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
the masters, and the care of the servants against
his importunities.
Added to all these, I was in a state of mind to
receive impressions of terror from every object and
every circumstance. From the moment that my
curls, fallen by chance upon my shoulders, betrayed
my sex, I feared that every one read my fault in
my eyes. At one time, a merciless inquirer, by his
interrogations, made me uneasy ; at another I
fancied I saw in my neighbour a dangerous or a
designing character.
I remember that one of the greatest causes of
my alarm was the appearance of a large man, with
grey eyes and black eye-brows, and a very suspicious
mien, who followed our diligence from Bamberg to
Coburg ; he kept up with us, sometimes walking,
sometimes swimming, sometimes holding by the
vehicle. I gave him some florins, and saw no more
of him.
r reasoned upon these fears ; were they ground
less? What a step was I taking? and, good God !
to what hands was I about to intrust myself? A let
ter from the prince, which had been sent to me from
Bamberg, gave me some local instructions, but in

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK. 47
a dry, magisterial, and freezing tone*. I paid
scarcely any attention to this change of tone ; I found
excuses for the prince in his occupations, and his
excessive pursuit of pleasure. I had much less sen
sibility for myself than for others ; and the impos
tors on the high roads found no difficulty in extort
ing their tributes from my childish fears, and the
credulity of my mind, or rather that of a heart
too easily moved.
I almost emptied my purse into that of a
poor young lady who was without money, and had
before her a journey of fifty leagues to perform.
Her eyes, I saw, were filled with tears at her
situation. I do not repent of having done so ; she
looked so genteel and so poor ! But God has given
me a very small recompense for my charity. A
day was to come, when I should find myself in a
situation much more deplorable, and there was
nobody to assist mel
Dejected at my present circumstances, and un
certain of the future, I arrived at Coburg, after
much ennui, fatigue, and terror. The aspect
* See Supplement, No. I. I have preserved, in this Supple
ment, all the Letters of the prince; and those of a number of
other persons, as proofs of the authenticity of my recital.

48 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
of that city was little calculated to restore my
spirits. I saw a sort of ancient borough town, with
straight streets, houses half in ruins, and low doors,
as in the villages in France. An air of silence and
of ennui seemed to hang over the city ; — I call it the
city, for such was the capital of the kingdom,
the sovereign of which invited me to reside with
him. We passed before a house higher, larger, and
more gloomy than all the rest. In the middle of a
vast smoky wall, a massive and ill-proportioned
gate seemed to be the entrance to some Gothic
stable. Very high up, there appeared a double
rank of small windows, long and grated, which
bore a certain affinity to the murderous keeps of an
old castle. This sight would have quickly dissi
pated from my mind all notions of a stable, if I
had not also observed the green colour of the lat
tices which ornamented them. Two large rats, — I
still remember them, — escaped from the lower
parts of this venerable edifice, and ran about my
feet. I had a horror of these animals, and well I
might, for they were courtier rats. They issued
from the same palace as his Serene Highness the
Duke of Coburg.

MUMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK. 49
We had scarcely alighted at the inn, when the
prince came to see us. A little embarrassment was
painted upon his countenance, but he endeavoured
to force a smile. " Ernest," I cried out, and threw
myself into his arms. I felt it, I was in- his power,
and this cry of nature, expressed to him : — " Here
I am, prince ; here I am your victim and your
lover." He embraced me, and questioned us upon the
dangers of our route, our fears, our health, and our
expenses ; he lavished praises upon the country in
which we were, and amused himself for a moment
with a history of the rats of his palace. However,
he stammered and stuttered, as he frequently does
when a thought importunes him ; and after search
ing a long time for terms to serve his purpose,
he said to me :—
" My poor girl ! dear Pauline ! I am not yet able
to give you the place which I promised you."
"Oh my God!"
" Don't weep, — be calm ; it is only for a short
time. The truth is, my mother detests the
French ; they have caused so many misfortunes to
our family. At present, she refuses to receive a
E

50 MEMOIRS OF \ YOUNG GREEK.
Frenchwoman at her court ; but she will see my
amiable Pauline, and will appreciate her amiable
qualities ; she will no doubt distinguish her from
the other women of her country ....
" Do not grieve pray ; I will entreat her, I will
urge her, I will teaze her so much, that she will
wish to know you ; I am sure she will add you
immediately to the number of her ladies of ho
nour ! Cheer up then, I know you are incapable
of doing any thing which would give me pain?
My dear girl, I did calculate upon your resigna
tion ; be guided by the man who is more interested
for your welfare than any other man living. Leave
to me entirely the care of watching over interests
which are dearer to me than my own ; and what
closer bonds can unite us ! — my Pauline."
I made no reply, but was overpowered by my emo
tions. I hid my face in my hands whilst the tears
coursed each other down my cheeks. Here then
was the enigma solved ! The prince had disguised
the truth from me ; I had been deceived !
But what could I do ? One course alone remained
for me. If prudence, the most consummate, could
be supposed to have regulated the words and ac-

MKAIOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK. .51
tions of a young girl of fifteen, cast in a strange
country, without friends, without counsel, without
assistance of any kind ; surrounded by irritated ene
mies, to whose feelings the very name of French,
recalled so many defeats and disasters ; even such
prudence would have bade me surrender myself
blindly to an inevitable destiny, and expect from
the generosity alone of the man who had insnared
me into this abyss, that which I could not expect
either from myself, or my friends, or my future
prospects. I shut my eyes to my fate ; for was not he, whom
I rendered the arbiter of it a prince ? Was not the
nobleness of his blood a guarantee for the integrity
of his heart ? And did not the rights which he had
usurped over me, and the advantage which he had
taken of my inexperience, impose upon him the
sacred obligation of protecting for ever my loneli
ness and my weakness ? At least I endeavoured to
think so.
I expressed to him the confiding affection with
which I surrendered myself to his wishes. He
thanked me coldly, and gave me his advice; it was
rather singular. E 2

;j2 MEMOIRS OF A YOrX(,' GRFKK,
" I had been observed," he said, " and it was
absolutely necessary that I should be concealed from
every eye. He had been already rallied upon the
arrival of these youths with the flowing locks, and
pretty feet. I was on no account to show myself,
or to make known my sex, or to speak to the people
of the house where I was going to sleep, or to open
the windows which looked into a large garden where
the members of the household sometimes walked."
I submitted without a murmur. I felt a sort of
indescribable gratification in sacrificing my plea
sures to the man who had me wholly in his power ;
I fancied that by filling up the measure of my de
votion, I should oppose an insurmountable obstacle
to inconstancy, ingratitude, desertion, or forgetful-
ness on his part.
Ernest found it necessary to go upon a short
journey. I remained in the mean time at the
house of one of his gardeners, a recluse in the
strictest sense of the word. A female servant who
brought me every morning an immense bouquet of
flowers, accompanied by several German saluta
tions ; the music of the chateau, which I heard at
a distance ; the appearance of some officers and

MEMOIRS or A YOUNG GREEK. 53
some ladies whom I saw through the lattices
walking in the garden, these were all the in
terruptions which my solitude experienced, and
the only amusements which awaited me at Co
burg. I had much to render roe uncomfortable. I
scarcely paid any attention to the singular manners
of the country in which I was : my own griefs ab
sorbed my faculties. I must not, however, omit
the history of a German bed, which caused me a
great deal of embarrassment.
Imagine a young Frenchwoman accustomed to
sleep between two sheets, — " which a Frieslander
had woven," and finding for her bed in her German
bed-chamber a large feather mattress, under which
was concealed a very small sheet. I called up
my hostess, but was a long time labouring to
make her understand my complaint. Her cus
tom had been to sleep under the mattress. I
made signs to her to fetch me a quilt: she did
so, but with the most inconceivable obstinacy
persisted in placing it under the mattress in
question. This scene at length became so ridicu
lous, that I could no longer conceal my laughter,
but I was obliged to make the bed over again, and

04 MEMOIRS OF A yOtING GREEK,
the surprise of my hostess was not a little at seeing
me place the sheets upon the feather bed, and the
quilt over the sheets. We parted in mutual admi
ration. I bore my solitude, hard as it would seem to a
girl of my age, with all possible resignation. My
troubles were, however, soon increased by an inti
mation which I received of an intention to transfer
me to another place of abode. A man, whose name
was Eberhard, and who was director of the pasturages,
as the prince informed me in his letter*, and one
of the best men that ever wore a dark visage and
crooked eyes, came to conduct me to a farm-house
which belonged to him, and which was to serve for
my new habitation. Everythingthat surrounded me,
the care which was taken to conceal me, the manner
in which I was treated, all proved to me clearly
that I was the victim of deception. I had not yet
exhibited any symptoms of pregnancy. The prince
had insnared me into Germany under one pretext
or other of giving me an honourable rank in society.
Now, however, I was doomed to see myself dragged
into a miserable little carriage, by the director of the
pasturages, across a country the most flat and un-
* See Supplement, No. 2.

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK. Xj
interesting in the world, until the machine stopped
at the portal of an old isolated ruin. It was the
farm-house. To give an adequate description of this edi
fice would baffle all my powers. It seemed built
not only in defiance of all the rules of architec
ture, but of simple masonry ; and one was at
a loss to know whether the grotesque confusion
which met the eye was more the effect of original
awkwardness, or of the hand of time. Upon enter
ing, the first object that met the eye was a rude
staircase, the steps of which, high, narrow and in
convenient, wound round an old beam of wood. From
thence you descended by two or three stone steps into
an apartment full of apertures on all sides, lighted
by three windows, doors broken upon it in every
direction, and into which the wind rushed by no
less than a dozen openings. By the help of some
steps I mounted into the saloon, it was clearly
the most magnificent apartment which the director
had prepared. It formed a very long parallelo
gram, which would be less scientifically called a
corridor, it being about five feet wide by fifteen
long. Eight immense windows admitted light, and

.'f) MliMOIES OF \ YOVNG (jUFFK.
a huge stove placed in the midst at once wanned
and encumbered it. There was, at one end a
small couch, covered with brown calico, quite
unadorned, and full of holes ; a rude table stood
in the middle of the floor, and three uncouth
wooden chairs were disposed against the walls. An
old-fashioned set of drawers completed the lumber of
this apartment. Further on, upon the same floor,
and without any door whatever, I observed a small
loom, which I understood was to be my bed
chamber. By way of compensation for the num
berless openings which admitted the light in tor
rents into the rest of the house, there was in this
humid chamber only one small window to perform
the double purpose of admitting air and light. For
the furniture of this place, all that appeared were
two large beds, and a small table deprived of one
of its legs, but which, nevertheless, was kept in
ah upright position by the aid of the wall.
M. Eberhard, who did not know a word of
French, had recourse to signs, to make me under
stand that I was to sleep with my niece in this
splendid building; and added that he would himself
be within a quarter of a league's distance of us.

-MEMOIRS OP V YOUNG GREEK. .J i
1 expressed my terror by signs; but the good
man replied by shrugs of pity and consolation,
shewed me the rest of the house, which consisted
of large rooms, without furniture, without win
dows, or doors, making a most horrible appearance,
and then left me to such reflections as this amiable
retreat was capable of inspiring.
The following day the prince came to see me. It
was easy to judge, from his conversation, that he
looked upon me as a helpless girl without resource
of any kind, and who was too happy under the
miserable roof which covered her.
I had committed a fault; I was weighed down
with sorrow, and was, therefore, silent. Besides
I was unwilling to give him pain ; but like the
generality of his sex, he ijnisinterpreted my motives,
and attributed that to insensibility, which flowed
from my delicacy. I neither upbraided him with
the hopes which he had held out, nor the solemn
promises which he had made ; nor did I remind him
of the manner in which he had redeemed these
pledges by immuring me in so melancholy and soli
tary a habitation. I had, however, mistaken him, for
there are souls upon whom generosity falls, as the
Scripture says, " the seed falls upon the rock."

,5S MEMOIRS OP A YOUNG GREEK.
He made some slight apology for the state of
seclusion in which he left me, called me his dear
girl a thousand times, whilst he was turning on
his heel, and adjusting his cravat before a broken
glass which was in the apartment. We walked out
together into the fields afterwards, and he termi
nated his visit by recommending to me, with a
harsh air, not to quit my disguise, and upon no
account to extend my rambles beyond a rising
ground which he pointed out, and which rose
directly before me.
I readily promised all that he asked, and he then
left me. I sought for solacing reflections even in
my very situation. If the house were old and mi
serable, that formed its best protection against rob
bers, who infested the country in great numbers.
I shall not, thought I, be troubled with the presence
of German beaus, or the intrusion of fashionable
women ; I can enjoy the beauties of nature, and
traverse the fine meadows, and it may be in my
power to do good to some unhappy inhabitant of
this part of the world; I shall distribute the favours
of the prince ; he is noble, loves me, and must
be generous. The prayers of the poor and unfor
tunate will invoke the blessings of heaven upon

MEMOIRS OP A YOUNG GREEK. 59
him, and his young friend. What could one desire
more in this world? tranquillity, love, healthy diet,
an obscure and rural retreat. My imagination
became exalted, and cast a charm about every thing
which surrounded me, and if the duke knew how
to turn this honest illusion of the heart to account,
I think I should have lived happily in the wretched
hamlet of Esslau, where tenderness and gratitude
would not have left me even the recollection of my
fault. The arrival of two youths at the old mansion of
M. Eberhard, caused a great sensation in the vil
lage. I was at table, and tasting, for the first
time, the milk and cream of Germany, when there
were introduced to me, with a great deal of cere
mony, all the young girls of the canton, who had
come to pay me a visit. They made me an offering
of flowers, and the effect which this gay group of
young people, almost all of whom were very pretty,
with countenances beaming with tenderness and
naivete, produced upon my spirits, was most agree
able. Their feet were bare, and they wore a
round and short gown, after the German fashion.
One presented me with a large bouquet of vio-

(iO ME.MOIRS OP A VOUNG GREEK.
lets, another a tuft of roses mixed with wild
flowers. I made a conquest amongst these little girls. A
little slender and delicate brunette, whose blue eyes
were shaded by large black eye-brows, began to
make fierce love to me ; she betrayed a partiality
too marked to be mistaken, for there were appa
rent upon her ail those assiduous attentions and
eloquent looks which bespeak the incipiency of
passion ; luckily, she was undeceived in time with
regard to my sex, and thus she was enabled to get
under, without difficulty, a passion which was so
inappropriately inspired.
There was no small barbarity in drawing from
her own country, and taking from her family a
young Frenchwoman, to be treated thus. The
duke seemed to be sensible of this. To console me
a little, he made a proposition, which was to have the
effect of enlivening my seclusion ; I was accordingly
presented, under my disguise, to his sister, the
Countess of Meinstorff; by her I was kindly re
ceived; I passed for a young Frenchman, for such
was the arrangement previously made between us.
The countess addressed to me some questions, in such

MEMOIRS OP A YOUNG GREEK. 61
a tone as one would speak to an urchin school-boy,
and I replied with all possible simplicity. The
duke did all in his power to make my answers
plausible : but, upon the whole, I was not ac
quitting myself cleverly, and my sex, age, and situa
tion seemed a thousand times upon the point of
being discovered, when the following slip seemed
to make further concealment impossible.
" Are you not weary of the country? " asked the
countess. " Oh no, madam," replied I ; " I occupy myself,
I read, I work, I sew."
At the mention of sewing, so unfortunately put
into the mouth of a young man, I coloured deeply,
the duke seemed quite disconcerted, and the con
versation entirely fiagged. The countess put an end
to it, by motioning me to depart ; but what sur
prised me most was, that she continued to treat me
with kindness and respect. How happy I am to
give this good lady my best acknowledgments, for
it is really a relief in the course of my unhappy
recital to recal to mind the kind conduct of two or
three persons, who have done me service, or, at
least, did me no injury.
The prince's scheme completely succeeded. This

{)2 MEMOIRS OP A YOUNG GRFEK.
introduction gave a new turn to my ideas, and f
began to flatter myself that the prince only wished
to save appearances, and that my confinement would
be soon at an end. I resigned myself anew to
pleasing illusions. The prince in the mean time
seemed to be acting advisedly in all that he did.
He did not fail to visit me the following day, and
good God ! what promises did he not make me ? We
spent a most delightful morning together. I saw
what a lively interest he appeared to take in my
fate ; and heard him swear, that within a few weeks
I should be received at his mother's court. The
countess, he said, was enchanted with me ; he
bantered me upon my grace, my good nature, and
even upon my sprightliness. He hinted at the
probable circumstance of his being obliged to yield
to the wishes of his family, and contract some politi
cal alliance, but deplored it. If such an event came
to pass, he swore he would be eternally constant to
me. He also explained at length the effect of a left-
handed marriage. My reply was, that I confided
entirely in him, that his love and his friendship
were sufficient for me ; that I was not insensible to
the unfortunate situation in which circumstances
had placed him, but that I expect6Kl every thing

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK. 63
from him alone, and had devoted my existence
entirely to him.
But what gave me the greatest pleasure, was the
permission which he gave me to resume the dress of
my sex. I flew to cast away the garb which I had
so long worn against my will, and went through
the business of the toilet with more pleasure and
coquetry (I acknowledge it) than if I was preparing
for the most brilliant concert. It fell to the lot of
the good Eberhard to be the first to perceive the
metamorphosis. He had knocked at my door ac
cording to his usual respectful custom before he
entered, I called out to him " to come in."
I was in the corridor, which I have already men
tioned, leaning upon the chest of drawers, to which
I alluded, in enumerating the articles of furniture in
the house, when the good man entered. His first
emotion was to burst into an exclamation of sur
prise, and then rubbing his eyes as if he doubted
them, he seemed quite struck as if with a super
natural apparition. His looks, one moment fixed
upon me, in the next wandered about the chamber,
as if he would search in every corner in vain for
the young man whose place I had taken.

64 MEMOIRS OF A YOT'NG GREEK.
The fetrange contortions into which he writhed
his figure, under other circumstances would have
been a source of amusement to me, if situated as I
now was, they were not calculated to add to my
fears. At length he found language to express the
sensations under which he seemed labouring. His
words were few, and he uttered them in a hurried,
though energetic manner, " Oh, M. August! —
mein Gott! — And he reeled back one pace. I burst
into tears. Mein Gott! he repeated, and making
me an obeisance, in which sadness was mixed with
astonishment, he drew the door softly after him,
and left the room. I heard him pacing down the
stairs, and at length his voice alone enabled me to
judge of the progress which he was making ; for as
he moved away from my chamber-door, the sounds
Mein Gott ! incessantly repeated became more faint,
but I could still tell by the reverberation of the
sounds what number of steps he had taken.
The little country girls were no less astonished
than M. Eberhard. But the same discovery pro
duced very different effects upon them. From the
moment that the young tenant of the farm-house
was metamorphosed into a girl, all offerings of

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK. 65
flowers, proffers of love, and visits ceased. They
flew from me and returned no more. Pamela her
self, my inamorata, alas, abandoned me.
Thus the only relief which my solitude expe
rienced ceased. The duke had not a Countess of
Meinstorff every day to introduce me to ; I, there
fore, remained absolutely alone. To crown my
ennui, the prince became jealous for a short time.
The genius of misfortune so ordered it, that as I
was walking one evening within the bounds which
he had prescribed to me, and being upon the
brow of a small hill, I made a false step and fell
down. Impelled by the violence of my fall and my
own weight, I rolled to the very bottom of the
hill. I was insensible : my bonnet was thrown to
a distance ; my head had struck against flints ; I
was slightly hurt. Some gentlemen met me : they
raised me from the ground, they paid me every at
tention, and I opened my eyes, when the voice of
the prince, added to his frowning aspect, petrified
me with terror. The gentlemen put a great many
questions to me : I was too ill to answer them.
The duke seemed to wish that I should be silent,
and that they should also cease their importunate

66 MEMOIRS OF V YOUNG GREEK.
attentions. He commanded me, with singular se
verity, to be silent, and to go away.
This was the most smarting, as it was the most
violent injury I had suffered. I had resigned my
self to the most melancholy solitude. I had suf
fered without complaining the physical pain and
weariness which were inseparable from my situa
tion ; and though I had deeply felt how unfaithful
the prince was to his promises, I not only did not
annoy him with my reproaches, but even at the
bottom of my heart I sought excuses for him. Two
or three words spoken with severity wounded me
more sensibly than all the rest. They violently
lacerated my most delicate and inward sentiments.
They struck down within me both my affection for
the prince, and that impulse to unbounded devotion
for him which had hitherto sustained my spirit
and my attachment. I spent the night in weeping,
stretched on the sofa in the corridor.
He came the following day. My eyes were red
and suffused with tears. He was astonished at my
appearance. He feared that his victim would
escape from him if he did not spare her. He,
doubtless, imagined that a slight change of scene

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK. 67
would dissipate my grief; and attempting with
sufficient indifference to afford me consolation, he
proposed to me to make a visit to Coburg, whither
Eberhard would attend me, he said, and where I
might go to see his sister the Grand Duchess of
Russia, who wished very much to know and con-
vei"se with me. I agreed, without asking from the
prince any farther information or explanation re
specting the adventure of the preceding evening ;
and I saw in this trifling mark of attention a wish
on his part to make up for his burst of jealousy,
which flattered me much more than the latter had
pained me.
The next day, in fact, I went to Coburg. Eber
hard, armed with a new billet from the prince *,
wished me to admire the sombre and Gothic sim
plicity of the town. The King of Yvetot would
scarcelv be contented with such a capital. I was
admitted to the grand duchess, and experienced
from her a reception full of grace and amiability,
and I passed one or two days agreeably enough at
Coburg. The marks of kindness which were be
stowed upon me by the two sisters of the duke,
were calculated to raise in me happier hopes for
* Vide Supplement, No. III.
F 2

68 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
the future. I returned to Esslan really pleased,
and full of confidence in my destiny.
I was not to enjoy my repose long. In my jaunts
to Coburg, and round its environs, the brother of
the duke. Prince Leopold, had observed me : it is
probable also, that he had been of the party which
I had so fortunately met near the farm of Eber
hard. Be that as it may, he was not content with
having seen me accidentally, he determined to pay
me a visit.
For this purpose he chose a singular and incon
venient hour. At seven o'clock in the morning the
bell rung. I was in bed, fatigued with my prome
nades during the week, when he announced himself
by whistling some French airs, in one of the apart
ments which led to my bed-chamber. More sur
prised than any one can imagine, I threw myself
out of bed, and had just wrapped myself in a night
gown, when he entered.
He was a tall young man, with a counterfeit
look, and a smile disagreeably sentimental . After
having made his excuses in sufficiently bad French,
for the manner in which he introduced himself to
me, he began to commiserate my situation, and to
blame his brother. He told me how much he inte-

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK. 69
rested himself for my happiness ; that he was
sorry to see me so badly accommodated ; and that
he feared my health would suffer from such seclu
sion and so inconvenient a residence. I made him
no answer ; but as soon as I could get near the
door, I ran away from one chamber to another. I
passed through several empty rooms, and at last
took refuge in an old flour-loft. I bolted the door,
and hid myself behind the sacks. Five hours passed
away before I had courage enough to emerge from
my place of concealment.
When I left it the prince was gone; but the
duke came soon after. It was necessary to inform
him of what had happened : this was a terrible
scene of jealousy, anger, rage, and wounded pride ;
I appeased him as well as I could. The result of
all these frights and violent emotions was a danger
ous fever, which seized me almost as soon as the
duke left me. I again fell sick, and kept my bed
for fifteen days.
What woman would have been sufficiently strong
to have found in her moral firmness and physical
energy, the means of supporting so many suffer
ings and troubles. Solitude and weariness, the re
membrance of my mother and sister, fears for the

70 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
future, the painfulness of my situation, the feeling
of sadness and of shame which my present circum
stances excited, all contributed to overwhelm me.
Alas ! one source of my misery, of my most lively
misery, but also the only consolation of my exist
ence, the object of all my love and all my sufferings,
added to my illness, and germinated in my bosom —
I was to become a mother.
I knew not that pain and anguish were to be the
precursors of this tender name, which has cost me
so many tears, and which now gives me so much
courage. The prince, informed by the physician who at
tended to me, informed me of it in my turn. Once
before he had designedly imparted to me similar but
false intelligence. Now it was but too true.
I should have fretted my life away upon hearing
this news, if the prince had not at that moment re
doubled his attentions, his protestations and pro
mises. He came very often to see me. If he gave
a fete in the neighbourhood, he sent for me to at
tend it, in the dress of a peasant girl, or a lady, or
just as he would direct*. He every day found an
opportunity of addressing to me some delicate piece
* Vide Supplement, No. IV.

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK. 71
of gallantry. Whether it was that his two sisters
were touched with my situation, and had recalled
him to a sense of hisduties towards me ; or whether,
by means of perfidy and dissimulation, he wished
to blind me to his future designs, never did he
shew himself so kind, so amiable, so devoted, or so
generous. He lavished on me a thousand marks of
affection and goodness. His conversations breathed
the most animated tenderness ; he accused himself
for having seduced me, and torn me from my friends
and relatives ; he wished to repair these wrongs.
This new pledge' of his love, which I bore in my
bosom, was also to be the pledge of his protection,
and of my happiness for ever. He would himself
watch over the education and the fortunes of the
child which I should give him, and for which he
would ensure the most prosperous destinies. I be
lieved every thing he said, and was happy.
However, in the midst of all these promises and
tokens of attachment, some characteristic traits
betrayed, from time to time, the genuine sentiments
of the prince. I shall only cite one, which I believe
is perfectly new in the annals of love.
The duke had a small country house at Russenau.
The distance from Russenau to the farm of Eber-

72 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
hard is a good quarter of a league. After a brilli
ant fete, at which I was present, and at which the
duke had over-fatigued himself, he sent me word
that he was very ill, and obliged to remain at Rus-
sennau, and he begged that I would go to see him.
The night was set in ; the weather was shocking ;
the rain fell in torrents, and some flashes of light
ning portended a violent storm. However, I did
not hesitate, and I followed with a quick step the
guide whom the prince had sent to me.
When I thought I perceived in the distance the
masses of the house of Russenau, impatient to
arrive there, and having already been longer
than I expected, I began to run ; but the man
who attended me ran after me, and growling
loudly when he overtook me, made me return back
part of the road, placed me, sentineWike, under a
large tree which I had left behind me, and told me,
with a great German oath, to wait there until I
should be called. I was mute with astonishment.
It was still worse when I saw my guide go alone
into the house ; he shut the door, bolted it doubly,
and disappeared.
I heard the noise of the unwieldy bolts which he
made fast. I saw the light which he carried as he

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GEEEK. 73
ascended the stairs, and made several windings
through the buildings, and at length he vanished
from my eyes. All was silent around, and nothing
was heard, save that low and plaintive murmur
which precedes and follows tempests, and marks
the intervals of, their cessation. Terror, suspense,
the effect of the rain and the wind upon my delicate
and agitated nerves, gave me a shivering ; all my
limbs were chilled and trembling. For two hours
I remained in this situation ; not a being came
near me.
At length I heard a voice that called me ; I was
so agitated, so frightened, so benumbed with cold,
that I had not courage to quit my position under
the tree. I was called again ; I distinctly recog
nised the voice of the prince ; I approached and I
perceived him at a small window, holding a small
lantern in his hand, and beckoning to me.
" Come, come, Pauline !" — " Is the door open?" —
" No, there would be danger ; something would be
suspected ; the porter, besides, is gone to bed !" —
" But how can I go ?"— " At the foot of this wall
I have placed a ladder." — " Ah, I beg of you, Ernest,
do not come down ; it is too high ; you will kill

74 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
yourself. Ernest, my prince, my friend, do not
come down, I conjure you." — " There is nobody
going down, you are to come up ; it is for you, Pau
line, as you were coming to see me, it was for you
I have placed this ladder." — " 'Tis well I see you
are not so ill as I was told, you are jesting too
pleasantly for that." — " I swear to you I am not
jesting ; 'tis no joke, I assure you." — " You are
laughing." — " No, upon my honour, Pauline. You
will be heard if you do not come up quickly. Be
quick ; it rains heavily. See, there is lightning,
you may be sure 'tis going to thunder. I am alarm
ed for you ; come — ascend." — " Where is the lad
der?" — " There it is, under the window." — " But
it does not reach half way ; I shall never be able to
get up to your balcony." — " I will reach you a chair
through the window, and will lift it up with both
my hands."—" But I shall be killed."—" Bah!"
I was considering with fear the five or six feet
which were between the balcony and the top of the
ladder, when there came a loud peal of thunder. Ter
rified, I mounted qu ickly, without knowing what I was
doing, and in danger a hundred times of killing my
self, I ascended the ladder, the chair, and the balcony.
I was scarcely landed, when a blast of wind broke

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK. 75
the panes of the window ; the ladder slipped away,
and the prince saw me fall insensible in his arms.
Such were the attentions of a prince for a wo
man whom he had seduced, and who was to present
him with a son ; — such was the delicate gallantry
and sensibility of the Duke of Coburg !
Nevertheless, I still remained in my solitary and
humiliating situation.
A short time after this singular nocturnal adven
ture which I have recounted, I was sent to the little
village of Amorbach, and took with me a letter
from the duchess, which contained, with real re
commendations, several cruel untruths*; which,
however, could onlyinjure a poor plebeian girl ; and,
therefore, no doubt were excusable.
I never can recall to mind my stay in this
miserable village, without blushing for the noble
personages who dared to confine] me in it. My
house was a coalman's hut ; my restaurateur the
chimney-sweeper of Amorbach. Yet it was the
reigning prince who protected me, and the prince
of Linanges who received me in the village.
I complained to the prince of Linanges ; I want
ed the common necessaries of life : I told him in
* Vide Supplement, No. V.

76 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
tears that it was impossible for me to remain longer
in a village where my physical sufferings were aug
mented by the affliction of my mind. This excel
lent man, whom Heaven has made a prince, I know
not why, pitied my situation, and spoke to me with
great frankness. " I know," he said, " the persons
with whom you have to do. I cannot too much
recommend it to you to distrust them. Have not
I myself been the dupe of their promises ? Did
they not amuse me with fine words until I entered
their family ? I have entered it, — they have not
fulfilled their promises, even in a single instance.
Mademoiselle, your fate interests me ; but it pains
me the more, as I know upon whom it depends."
In vain did the prince advise me not to quit
Amorbach, to be patient, and to wait a little. I
represented to him the deplorable state of my
health ; I endeavoured to persuade him that a longer
stay at Amorbach would be fatal to me. He
agreed with me ; and I returned to Coburg under
the care of the counsellor Tittel, who escorted me.
The counsellor Tittel is one of those men who
are met with but rarely in life. When such a man
is met with, it is necessary to describe him. A
countenance without eyes, and which, at the first

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK. 77
view, seems to consist entirely of nose ; his hair
child like, its red forest covering his shoulders ; an
immense mouth, which forms a horizontal line
across the middle of his features. Such are the
gifts which nature gave him. Unfortunately,
M. Tittel did not take care to correct by art his
natural deformities. He is distinguished by an
uncommon filthiness ; and a grotesque appearance
completes the picture. Niggardly by instinct and
by education, he has found out the very sublime
of economy. I shall long remember that white
under-waistcoat, which was hung on a hook in
his ante-chamber, a necessary article of apparel,
which he put on whenever he was summoned to
the prince's court, and which, the moment he re
turned, he put by until the arrival of a fresh
command. I trust, I shall be pardoned the liberty I take in
tracing from time to time such whimsical portraits.
The truth of them is exact, and the revenge not
cruel. An epigram may be permitted to him who
has seen the dagger lifted against his bosom. It
is, I confess it, some compensation for the odious
stain which the existence of my son imposes upon
me: and besides, grotesque pictures, save me, in

78 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
some measure, from the horror of a recital too
painful for me. In recalling the burlesque recol
lection of such characters, I feel my fear and my
hatred turn into pity ; and I am tempted to par
don criminality in consideration of the ridiculous.
Under the care of the lovely Tittel I returned
to Coburg. Would any one believe it ? A young
girl, of fifteen yea^s, the victim of a fault, which
morality does not indeed excuse, but which the
period of life, its tenderness, and circumstances,
might have at least rendered worthy of pity ; this
child bearing in her bosom another child, and flying
a nasty paltry village, where the diet and the want
of attendance would have killed her in two months ;
this child was received by the prince with no feel
ings but those of anger, haughtiness, and severity.
He had no consideration for my health, my suffer
ings, or my entreaties.
A letter* from him ordered me to consider myself
under arrest in my chamber for one day. This
conduct was consistent. After having made me
scale his balcony, as if it were an intrenchment,
he placed me under arrest, as if I were a re
fractory grenadier. I did not observe it : I fled
* See Supplement, No, 6.

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK. 79
to the palace, and there another new scene
awaited me.
The duchess mother began by overpowering me
with reproaches. It was in vain I fled from her,-^
in vain I concealed myself in the recesses of different
chambers, whither she followed me. I heard in
cessantly the clatter of her enormous slippers,
which resounded on the smooth floors, and an
nounced to me her coming, or rather her furious
visitation. "Well! when are these tragi-comedies to
have an end? Do you believe, my fine lady, that
I will suffer my son to crown so many acts of
folly?" At these words the pride of the duke took offence ;
and, whilst I was on my knees, and bathed in tears
in the embrasure of a large window, the son and
the mother had a short, but warm, discussion.
The duchess, seeing that her transports of passion
only overpowered me, and irritated her son, sud
denly changed her attitude and her tone, came to
me, made me sit down, and wiped away my tears.
Ah ! how happy are those born in the abodes
of royalty, who have so great an empire over them
selves as to hold in absolute control, their pas-

80 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
sions, their anger, their voice, their soul, and their
countenances !
" Madam," said I, when she became calm, "I have
no sinister design, and I am at a loss to understand
the intentions which you impute to me. The un
happy cause of my being here is not unknown to
you ; believe me, my presence at Coburg is far from
being voluntary. If, however, my staying here is,
in your opinion, likely to prejudice the duke, I am
ready to depart ; I will go where you please. As
for the rest, I resign myself entirely to the duke ;
I believe him to be too much a man of honour  "
" Oh ! certainly, Mademoiselle, most cer
tainly * * *. Arrangements shall be made for
your future comfort * * *. You may depend upon
that * * *. But, as to marriage, it is that, per
haps, which you calculate upon * * * ; if so, you
are sadly mistaken * * * *." I interrupted her
by a flood of tears. Her last words, so humiliating
and so harsh, had pierced my soul. She resumed :
" But why this grief, don't take it so much to
heart ! Pretty thing ! Come nearer to me, it
is really a charming creature ! But come, you
are not in a state to enjoy conversation to-day, be
comforted, and take some repose. I shall see you

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK. 81
to-morrow. Tittel shall fetch you to me, and I am
sure that we shall become good friends." I curt
sied, muttering some acknowledgments, and with
drew ; my head was quite giddy, and I was ready
to sink down with excess of emotion.
I was as yet but little acquainted with the style
of courts ; these last words of the duchess kindled
hope and joy in my heart. The same evening the
duke came; he was lavish of flattery and pro
mises. " My mother," said he, " is delighted with you,
you have so modest and sweet an air ! I foretold
that it would be impossible for her to see and hear
you without being captivated. She now insists
upon monopolizing the care of you, and pledges
herself to watch over your child and mine !" My
brain became intoxicated. I forgot his coldness,
pardoned him his harsh letter, and threw myself
into his arms. Unfortunate girl that I was, what
wilful blindness could keep my eyes so long sealed
to his gross hypocrisy !
The next day I was sent for to the duchess. The
conversation which passed I should willingly give
a place to here, if I. did not fear it would fatigue

83 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
from its length. It was a chef-d'osuvre in its kind;
an artful mixture of advice, threats, kindness,
authority, caresses and flattery.
" You might undoubtedly do the duke great in
jury, Pauline ! You should expect, however, that
from that moment I would withdraw my protection,
and you and your child would be devoted to misfor
tune; but, by a contrary course, you might calcu
late oh the happiest destiny. This I will guarantee
to you ; swear to me, then, that you will never be the
avowed mistress of the duke, and that you will even
try to estrange him from you. Yes, my child it is
absolutely necessary to require this sacrifice. You
should rejoice at having an opportunity of bringing
this matter to a happy termination, and being able
again to return to the paths of virtue. Think
upon the little being whom you carry in your bosom ;
its happiness is closely connected with what I now
ask. Come then and embrace me, my dear Pau
line, my child !— and promise me 1 — "
I promised every thing that she wished. I could
have given my life at the same time, if she had
asked it in the same terms.
These cajoleries were intended to serve a double

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK. 83
purpose. The duchess wished to make my gene
rosity an instrument of extinguishing in the heart
of her son a partiality for me which she still feared
very much, and also to shut my eyes as to what
was really to be my future destiny. It was only in
the latter part of the design that the prince con
curred with her ; for I have no doubt, but that from
the circumstance of my youth, abstracted from any
feelings of fondness for me, he still entertained an
unaccountable desire of keeping me longer in his
power. What a picture does this furnish of a court, and
to what degradations will not the great descend
when they would carry their purposes ? Here was
the duchess dowager of an ancient court of Germany,
who descended to admit me to her intimacy, nay,
to her familiarity — me, a child of fortune, without
title, without friends, and the innocent victim of
her son's seduction !
" Pauline," said she to me, " how well made
you are — what a charming figure ! Pray what do
tall this gown which you wear ?" " It is a heart-
gown, madame." " A heart-gown ! it is very pretty ;
do you think such a one would be fit for me, at my
agef"«-««Oh, undoubtedly, Madame." *«WelI,
G2

84 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
then, you shall lend me yours ; my maid shall go to
you to-morrow for it."
Such was the footing upon which I stood at
Coburg. I was intoxicated, without being vain.
The most haughty of princesses, in raising me
to a level with herself, wrought no change in the
heart of Pauline. I had hopes, but I still remained
the same ; I knew nothing of courts; I had, alas,
but little experience, for I was but entering my
sixteenth year.
Favours and hopes thus continued to thicken
upon me, until about the middle of my pregnancy,
when the duke and his mother suddenly left Coburg,
one for the baths, and the other for St. Peters-
burgh ; I was left alone, in the care of the famous
Tittel. During the first weeks of my solitude, the
letters of the duke and duchess *, written in the
same friendly tone, were duly handed to me, and I
derived consolation from them.
After some months, however, these letters became
less frequent. My resources now began to fail ; I
was obliged to live sparingly, which was death
to me in my situation; in vain my tears fell in
torrents. Of what avail was the anguish of poor
* See Supplement, No. VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, and Xll.

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK. 85
Pauline; or how did the wants of the child, which
I was carrying in my bosom, affect the hearts of my
noble protectors? The duke was married. I was
desired to keep silence ; there was no longer any
trouble taken about me.
In the mean time, my sister became informed of
the destitute situation in which I was left, and im
mediately flew to me ; but how were her feelings
shocked at witnessing the state of distress to which
I was reduced 1 She snatched up a pen, and stated
my situation to the duchess. An answer arrived,
in which protection was coldly promised ; but which
terminated in these very remarkable words * : —
" I require the most absolute secrecy, with re
spect to the relation in which Pauline stands towards
my son. I am indulgent, but I know how to be
revenged. " Augusta."
Scarce four months had elapsed since Pauline
was the favourite of the duchess ; what a change
had been wrought within that short period ? How
much ill-will had succeeded without any apparent
cause to so many caresses? How was it, that the
favourite, secluded in a miserable habitation, with-
* See Supplement, No. XIII.

86 MEMOIRS OF A VOUNO GREEK.
out moans, and on the point of bringing a son into
the world, should hoar from her benefactress only
to bo threatened with the whole force of h(>r ven
geance ?
The diicbo.sfl felt that she had acted hastily ; fol-
scarcely had this letter arrived, announcing her
vengeance, when there came another addressed to
me*, to announce the continuance of the liigh pro
tection of the duchess.
tn.vf Louis accompanied this letter, and in the
situation in which wo wore, formed .^, ridiculous
contrast with the letter itHclf. My bosom became
th(> thoafro of contending emotions ; I began, at
length, to open my eyes to my real situation ; I saw
what was likely to be the r(^K)ilt of all this, and, at
length, understood all this amiable conduct on the
part of the mother.
The end liien of so much flattery and so many
promises, was to leave me stretched upon a solitary
truss of straw, without a sou, and there to prepare,
as I might, another truss for my child! Shame,
despair, anguish, remorse, regret, and insulted
pride, Oh God, by how many torments was my
(* Supiilemcnt, No, XIV.

MEMOIRS OP A YOUNG GREEK. 87
bosom torn ! May they never have to render an
account of the evil they have done me, from that
time up to this moment !
My sister, with difficulty, persuaded me to write
to the Duke of Coburg ; I did write, but my pen
was dipped in gall. The answer arrived in course*,
filled, as usual, with promises, and the ordinary
civilities. The pecuniary supplies were more slow
of arriving; I was obliged to wring from them
florin by florin. The letters which I received f, as
well from the duke, as from his brother, always
flattered me with the hope of money, which never
arrived. I became weary of continually making
demands, to which I received answers in words,
but never any effectual assistance. My mother—
my unhappy mother, came to see me. Alas ! what a
heart-appalling spectacle for her 1 her daughter de
serted, dying, and a sad outcast ; a sister ill, and
not a friendly hand near to offer us assistance ! Her
grief overpowered me ; her presence also, by in
creasing our expenses, and adding to our troubles
the pain of seeing her suffer, filled up the measure
of our horrible situation. I endeavoured to take
courage ; I rose superior to, and stifled every other
* See Supplement, No. XV. t Wem, No. XVI, XVIL

88 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
consideration. I wrote again, and was referred to
Prince Leopold, who, no doubt, prejudiced against
me, by that little scene at the farm-house, which I
related in its proper place, sent me an hundred
florins, accompanied by a harsh, inhuman, and in
solent letter*.
It is only a prince, that is to say, a man, placed
in a sphere above the feeling of vulgar humanity,
who could think of avenging himself with so much
meanness, and of recommending economy to a dying
woman, who, although under the protection of a
reigning prince, had not wherewith to purchase the
first wrapping-clothes for her child. It was a
barbarous unfeeling irony. I reiiewed my com
plaints to the duchess t, who replied to them in
general terms J.
Two months and a-half thus passed away. Our
miserable stock of money, however prudently hus
banded, was consumed slowly; but still it conti
nued to decrease. I saw my mother and sister
languish and waste away, depriving themselves of
food to leave me that nourishment of which I had
a double need. Fever seized upon me ; I re-
• See Supplement, No. XV. J Idem, No. XVI.
X Idem, No. XVII.

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK. 89
fused with horror whatever they offered. My head,
in which all ideas had become confused, seemed
like a burning furnace. The infant whom I was
carrying got up in my stomach, which was void of
nourishment. Stifling my tortures, I threw myself
out of bed ; and, pale, spectre-like, and with disor
dered hair, folding the sheet about me like a wind
ing-sheet, I ran out without being perceived, and
reached the door. Thence I ran across the streets
into the town, uttering the most piercing shrieks.
All at once I was stopped ; I threw myself upon my
knees, and cried out, whilst the burning tears
coursed each other down my cheeks, "Oh, my
God! Ernest, don't kill me; don't kill your own
child.'" It was my mother, who had followed me.
Oh ! whilst dwelling upon the recollection of this
frightful anguish, I am ready to become a barbarian
in my turn. From the depths of misfortune into
which they have plunged me, I could raise to heaven
that cry which it always hears — the malediction of
the unfortunate ; I could devote their heads to deli
rium, their crowns to contempt, their pride to
distress! I  But I pardon them !
They could not excuse themselves by feigning
ignorance or forgetfulness of the state in which we

90 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
were left. Had they forgotten us, a letter which I
wrote to the duke*, and another from my sister f,
ought to have awakened remorse in their souls, if
they were accessible to the least touch of pity.
In the mean time the winter was coming to its
close ; the ninth month was upon the wane ; we had
neither linen, nor fire, nor candle ; and my son saw
the light in the midst of cries of distress, the suf
ferings of my mother, and the convulsions of
anguish, despair, and famine, in us all, on the 4th
March, 1809.
After such events, I ought to have fled with
my son, mother, and sister, and craved from charity
itself some asylum ; or even preferred death to
the atrocious protection which had been held out
to me, and under which I had nearly expired of
hunger, cold, and misery ; or rather I ought to
have raised my voice, and, pointing to my infant,
said, " Behold me a mother at sixteen. A prince
has seduced me from my country by the promise
of an honourable rank at his court ; he is the father
of my child ; his mother protects me, and yet I die
of hunger. My poor child is about to perish."
* See Supplement, No. XVIII, f Wem, XIX.

MEMOIRS OP A YOUNG GREEK. 91
But how difficult is it for a girl to despair at
sixteen, whilst the heart is still so confiding, and
so willing to make excuses to itself for the faults
of men ! It is so painful to look at them in their
true colours ! I resolved to be patient. I tried
to persuade myself that all might yet be well. J.
wrote, and waited for an answer. In the mean
time the report of my miseries got abroad. Ru
mours increased so generally, that it was appre
hended the character of the prince might be com
promised. In some time after my accouchement I
received a letter *, and a remittance of a thousand
francs. The best policy for both the prince and me would
clearly have been, instead of having recourse to so
many shifts, to secure to me at once, as he often
promised, a small income regularly paid, and thus
to respect at least outwardly the simple obligations
of humanity, by which it is to be presumed princes
are bound like other men.
Of this the prince, alarmed at the public clamour,
became sensible rather too late, but still timely
* See Supplement, No, XX.

92 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
enough to realize the illusions and fond hopes
which he had held out to the most credulous of
women. He wrote to me again *. His letters breathed
sentiments of tenderness for his son. How was it
possible for me to shut my heart to his new pro
mises, or to renounce the prospects which he held
out for my child.
Thus our correspondence was resumed. I had
the child called Ernest, though he expressed his
disapprobation of the name. The duke trumped
up I know not what sort of story ; the burthen of
which was, that I was the widow of an Hanoverian
officer, who having been killed by an imaginary
cannon-shot, left me in in my fictitious widowhood,
to the mercy of the world.
The letters of the duke frequent enough f bore
a character of constraint and ennui, and, very often,
even of bad humour, which I naturally attributed
to his political embarrassments, and the fatigues
and cares of his military labours. He was unhappy .
the victories of my countrymen had placed his life
and his crown in danger. Our armies then made
* See Supplement, No. XXI. f Idem, XXII.

MEMOIRS OP A YOUNG GREEK. 93
all Germany tremble, and the French cannon even
thundered in our ears. Notwithstanding the secret
pride which swayed my heart, yet I wept, and suf
fered much for him. I was willing to forget all,
for I still loved him.
One day (about the middle of July) the duke
paid us an unexpected visit at Frankfort, which
he had himself chosen for our residence. He found
my child and me upon a small bed, in a mean apart
ment, our sole stock of provisions consisting of
some brown bread. Our situation affected him;
and a momentary gleam of remorse inspired him
with the most humane resolutions. All at once^
he wished to put our establishment upon the most
opulent footing. If I had followed his orders, I
should have had, at the same instant, waiting wo
men, domestics, carriage and horses. I could not
help smiling at his visionary projects, and in my
turn undertook to read him a lesson. I reminded
him of a virtue which, during two years, I had
too rigorously practised, namely, — economy. I
made him understand that I could be content with
an humble calash, and that a waiting woman was
not indispensably necessary to me ; but that I had
an aged and suffering mother, that I was suckling

94 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
my child, and that the most pressing wants of na
ture were precisely those whichj during so long a
time, had been so cruelly neglected.
He departed without leaving any thing with me.
He wrote to me to make fresh promises*, and
wrote again still promising. Thus, to eternal
protnises, absolute destitution, and everlasting ex
pectation, were reduced in substance the plans of
opulence which the prince had formed ; and she for
whom he wished to purchase a carriage was obliged
to borrow ten florins for her son's subsistence, and
could raise no more upon her credit. Undoubtedly
my circumstances should have been in the most
flourishing condition, if every letter from his high
ness in which were these words, — you shall re
ceive money, — had been a bill of exchange. But
thesis promises were not current ; the future money
which they incessantly announced was perpetually
coming, and the fine perspective which they raised
before my eyes, did not prevent me from pining
away in my miserable solitude, with my unhappy
mother, and my infant in the cradle.
It was at Wilhemsbad, a retired and charm
ing place, that I thus struggled, with all my
See Supplement, Nos. XXIII. to XXXlIl,

MEMOIRS OP A YOUNG GREER. 95
power* against distress and anguish* Complfete
solitude is far from being favourable to the unfortu
nate. Their bosoms become the prey of gloomy
feelings, and misfortune itself acquires strength
from the energy of reflection which the mind ab-
quires in seclusion. Thus, I resembled less a
woman than a spectre ; and my retreat seemed
destined soon to become my tomb, when by accident
some Frenchmen arrived in this quarter.
General L  , an infirm man of a blunt, honest,
and austere character, possessed at Wilhemsbad an
estate i which he came to see. The bread of the
stranger is bitter, says Dante ; his threshold is rude ;
his conversation is melancholy*. It was not without
the most lively feelings of pleasure that I met French
men in Germany. The general expressed to me
the interest with which my solitude in a strange
country, my youth, and the grief imprinted upon my
cbuntenance, inspired him. I accepted his invita
tion to pass an evening, from time to time, at his
house. It was in vain that I tried to conceal from
him a part of my troubles, for the rumour of them
had alreddy reached him, and my appearance but
too plainly bespoke the destitution in which I was
* Sonnetto.

96 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
left. His compassion became more tender every
day, and at length became troublesome. I could
not refuse the General my respect, my friendship,
and my gratitude ; but he endeavoured to profit of
these, by inspiring in a heart so broken, sentiments
of another kind, and to undeceive me as to all the
hopes which I had formed.
" What !" said he, " three whole years you have
foolishly left your existence at the mercy of the
prince ; and what has he done for you ? Nothing.
He leaves you to languish in the most cruel dis
tress, and yet you expect something from him ! Ah,
madam ! how little do you know of men ? Ought
he not, after the birth of your son, nay, long before
it, to have settled upon you sufficient means of sub
sistence? Trust to my experience ; what I say is in
the pure spirit of friendship, which forces me to tear
the veil from before your eyes. At this moment you
have no longer any thing, absolutely nothing, to
expect from the Prince of Coburg. Remember the
painful prediction which I now make. If you do
not instantly fly from the situation in which you
are placed, you will have to regret it hereafter. You
will perish in a state of cruel destitution, with a
child whom your bosom nourishes. You will be

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK. 97
extremely fortunate indeed, if you succeed in
wringing from a haughty court some florins for
the support of your child. Perhaps they may even
wish to stifle your voice. I would not answer either
for your liberty or your life : youth, amiability,
and misfortune are but slight obstacles in the way
of those who belong to courts, and you have there
fore every thing to fear." Oh, how this frightful
prophecy struck into my soul. It has been ful
filled to the very letter.
The general saw the impression which his dis
course had made upon me. He followed it up by
a formal declaration, which rather surprised me,
but which I rejected with more chagrin than vio
lence. He pressed me to share his fortune, to fol
low him to Paris, and to accept (for my candour
will conceal nothing) a sum of a hundred thousand
livres for my present necessities. My eyes were
filled with tears.
" I esteem you, sir," said I ; " and you were, per
haps, the only man in whom I though I might ven
ture to confide. I regret that I have not been able
to inspire you with so good an opinion of me,
as you have given me reason to entertain of you.
I am certainly poor, and my prospects are uncer-
H

98 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
tain. I may fall into the greatest misfortunes :
it is true ; but what have I done, I ask you, which
could induce you to hope you would succeed in the
proposition, humiliating as it is to me, which you
have just now made ? No ; I will never abandon
my duty nor my son 1"
The effort which I had made over myself, the
feeling of terror which the general raised in my
bosom, and my grief at seeing that my sex can
find only interested selfishness amongst men, quite
overpowered me. I was ill. The general con
ducted himself, it is true, with honour and deli
cacy. Without tormenting me any longer, he watch
ed over my health, and shewed a sincere interest for
me. He soon after left Wilhemsbad. Alas, the
mortal blow was then struck . My foolish security
was vanished, and I lost the last consolation of the
unfortunate— illusion.
The prince took care to keep up a correspond
ence with persons at Wilhemsbad ; and I have no
doubt but that every action of mine underwent the
(Ji'deal of this honest observation, to which less po
lished language gives another name, and which
never fails to raise up imaginary crimes, to en
hance its own utility and penetration. Besides

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK. 99
my letters, written with all the naivete of my age,
the unguardedness of my character, and the free
dom of a woman whose conscience inspires her with
a sort of defiance, spoke a good deal of the general,
his qualities, and the pleasure which his society
afforded me.
The prince, combining this intimacy with the
reports which reached him, was desirous of ap
pearing jealous. The thing was ridiculous enough ;
but he wanted a pretext, and this sudden jea
lousy became at once an excuse, as well for my past
sufferings as for those which were to come. It is
true, that the general might have been my fa
ther ; that from morning to night he received
but little ease from his infirmities and wounds ;
that by remaining after him at Wilhemsbad, not
withstanding his offers, I showed what little value
I set upon them, and that the first intimation of my
acquaintance with the general was communicated by
myself to his highness. All these considerations
ought to have furnished evidence enough to de
stroy even the shadow of this ridiculous jealousy ;
but the slightest appearance was enough, for wh4t
signifies the absurdity of the pretext, if the result
H 2

100 MEMOIRS OP A YOUNG GREEK.
be the same ? Did the wolf, in the fable, when he
wished to quarrel with the lamb, pay much atten
tion to their relative situations ?
Once the resolution to be jealous was taken, and
the prince acquitted himself wonderfully well. In
his two next letters, therefore, he declared to me,
that he was furious at my rencontres with this
" general whom I praised so much" and then that
" the nights were long, and that the hours hung
heavy ;" and in conclusion, (this was the princi
pal point) " that he would no longer act the good-
natured man, and would send me only very little
money." Alas! it would have been difficult for
him to have sent me less money than he had
hitherto done. This bonhommie of the new order
resembled a good deal that of the Agnelet, who
"placed quite softly, out upon him!  without
thinking upon it  , not knowing what he did,
his knife near the throat of the poor animal,
which immediately died in some way, I know not
howl" This was pushing the jest too far. My soul
sickened in the midst of these protracted torments.
I lost all hope, and the chimeras of the future had

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK. 101
ceased to indemnify me for the sufferings of the
present. My sacrifices had served only to rouse
me ; my generosity was turned against me ; my
youth and simplicity were acted upon with an un
heard-of perseverance. A bitter grief reigned
over my soul, influenced every action, and oppressed
every moment of my life ; I scarcely existed — I was
languishing away. The letters which I wrote to
the prince were melancholy pictures of my mind,
but they were met by cold and vague answers *, in
which an insulting apathy tried in vain to assume
the tone of anger.
A short time after, however, the duke, without
giving me notice, came to Wilhemsbad ; I was
awakened at flve in the morning by a violent
knocking at my door ; starting up in surprise, I
endeavoured to recognise the voice of the person
who so imperiously demanded entrance, but being
obliged to wrap a loose gown about me, I made
some delay in coming to the door. Scarcely had I
pushed back the bolt, when the prince broke into
my chamber, tore open a large press which stood
there, searched into all the corners ; and whether it
was that he affected to be so, or really was jealous
* See Supplement, Nos. XXXV and XXXVI.

102 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
I know not, but he alarmed me exceedingly. After
this absurd insult, he became appeased.
But how unaccountable are the emotions of the
hu man heart ! He who was the cau se of my misery and
my griefs could not help weeping at them. The
wretched appearance of my unfurnished chamber,
and of the child who was suckling at my bosom,
touched his insensible heart a little. He took my
hand, and looking in my face, said, " Poor girl,"
His compassion carried him so far as nearly to
shed tears, and in the deepest tone of commise
ration, he continued to repeat, " Poor Pauline I
Poor girl," as if he had not been the author of all
the evils which he deplored, and as if one word
from his lips would not have put an end to them I
There is nothing, perhaps, more singular in the
history of the human heart, than this moment in the
lifeoftheprince. He had found the means of creating
in himself, if I may say so, two souls, one of which
was occupied in inflicting slow torture upon me, and
the other in looking with compassion upon the
state to which I was reduced. He, as it were,
separated the duke from the man on this occasion,
and forgetting that he was my  , he summoned
up courage enough to weep over my misfortunes.

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK. 103
When I saw him moved by the situation in
which he himself had placed me, I wished to open
his eyes completely with regard to his conduct
towards me. I therefore put into his hands a
letter which General L  * had just sent me.
In this letter, the general, after giving me some in
telligence of my brother who served in the army of
Italy, complained of my prudence, and threatened
me (as he had done before) with a deplorable fate.
Never did prophecy carry with it more visibly the
characters of truth.
The duke stammered, excused himself as well as
he could, and then proposed to me to accompany
him to Frankfort. The journey was not long nor
agreeable to me. We proposed to return in the
evening to Wilhemsbad to dinner ; my child whom
I was suckling, used to take the breast only in the
morning. However, the duke, under pretence of
paying a visit to some of his friends, left us in the
town, dined (as I have since positively learned) with
some woman or other, and never thought of us till
seven o'clock in the evening. Insulting and bar
barous proceeding !
Having got into the carriage again for the pur^
* See Supplement, No. XXXVII.

104 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
pose of returning, we encountered frightful weather.
The snow fell so heavily that the horses got for
ward with difficulty. A miserable old man, half
naked, came up to ask alms ; I drew from my purse
a piece of silver of some kreutzers*, and was about
to throw it to him, when the prince seized my arm
violently, and began reproaching me with my ex
cessive prodigality. I was not, however, to be
prevented from bestowing the piece of money upon
the poor man, but I was punished for it by a long
sermon, from which I confess I did not derive much
edification. I blushed for the prince. If I had been capable
of applying the moral to my own case, I ought to
have trembled. For what was to be expected from
a soul so formed ? Did not this mean love of
money, efface all recollection of the compassion
which he shewed on entering my house? And my
poor child too, what was he to expect from the
generosity of a prince, who had not humanity
enough to bestow twelve kreutzers upon one of his
unfortunate subjects?
I lent a deaf ear, however, once more to all the
suggestions of my experience, my fears and the
* A German penny.

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK. 105
melancholy forebodings which the absence of gene
rosity and candour on the part of his highness had
raised in my mind. He quitted me, made me pro
mises, and wrote to me, his mother also wrote
again*. However, our wants becoming more ur
gent, my sister undertook to remind the duke of
his promises, and of our existence. As yet we had
had nothing but promises ; that sort of money costs
but little. At length my sister went to Dresden ;
the letters here ceased altogether, for after this we
received no answer. Three months elapsed, and it
was now the middle of winter ; I was left totally
without subsistence for my mother and child. Too
many sufferings had armed my heart ; too much
mildness and patience had taught me that the
more I suffered, the more I must expect to suffer.
In the horrible extremity in which we were plunged,
I conceived a violent resolution, which became
fixed in a soul naturally gentle and timid, but to
which the excess of misfortune lent energy. A daugh
ter and mother at the same time, a sad witness of
the misery to which my mother and my child were
reduced, I forgot that I was as yet only seventeen,
that I was a woman and without assistance I set
out for Coburg.
* See Supplement, Nos. XXXVIIl, to XLIII.

106 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
It was this which the duke and his mother most
dreaded. They had taken care to keep at a dis
tance from the court, a poor victim, whose cries
would have been grating to royal ears. They
feared the impression which my complaints and my
misfortunes might produce upon the minds of the
people, already too much estranged from an avari
cious and faithless court. They felt that the spec
tacle of a young woman, accompanied by her aged
mother, and with her infant at her bosom, claiming
justice at the gate of the palace against the bar
barity of the prince, would touch even the most vul
gar souls. Thus, resolved not to leave Coburg until
a period had been put in some shape to the uncer
tainty and misery of our existence, and until the
lot, not of myself, but of my son, had been assured ;
I prepared myself against every outrage and mor
tification, and armed myself, at the same time, with
humility and courage.
In effect, when they heard of my arrival, the court
was in a flame. The duke and duchess wrote me two
stormy letters*. The next day I was admitted to
an audience with the duchess ; and the conversation
which took place was no less curious than that I
have already stated. Her first exclamation, and
* See Supplement, Nos. XLIV, to XLVI.

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK. 107
the manner in which she received me, astonished
me a good deal. I was preparing myself for a burst
of passion, but she came up, embraced me, and
pressed me to her arms. " Oh! my dear girl," said
she, " how pretty you are ! The duke was not
wrong in saying that you grew handsomer every
day. How well this robe of blue levantine, your
straw hat, and large veil, become you ! Sit down by
me, beautiful traveller ; you know that I owe you a
scolding." I excused myself as well as I could. I told the
duchess that the destitution in which we had been
left ; the feelings of a mother and daughter ; the
sufferings of those who were most dear to me in the
world ; the insufficiency, in time of war, of the
means which had been promised us, and which, small
as they were, were, liable to fail from one mo
ment to another, together with the extreme mi
sery to which we were reduced, had determined
me to come and claim her protection once more.
" Oh ! my God !" replied she, " we are ourselves
in a most critical situation. The chances of the
times and of war may, in the lapse of a moment,
deprive us of all that we have in the world."
" That consideration," said I, " is entirely in

108 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
favour of the step which I have dared to take.
Madam. The feelings of honour which, no doubt,
fill the breast of the prince, will induce him, in the
present circumstances, to assure the destiny of his
son. Should those misfortunes happen which I dare
not foresee, and should he be deprived of what he
possesses, how much would his distress be aggra
vated by seeing his son left without resource ?"
"But, Pauline, you must be jesting. What, then,
do you wish to have made of your son ? a duke,^ — a
prince, — an emperor?"
" A man, Madam!"
" Ah! ah!"
" And, as a first requisite, that he receive a good
education." " You are surely raving, my dear."
" No, my Lady Duchess. My child is dearer to
me than myself. I will consent still to undergo any
sufferings, provided I am assured that he will not be
a sharer of them. It is for him alone, and in order
to ascertain the intentions of the prince with
respect to him, that I have come to Coburg."
" Then give the child to me; I wiU place
him  • He shall be given in charge to some
honest countryman"  . She checked herself.

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK. 109
After some instants of silence, she added, " Pau
line, take care. You have, perhaps, heard of a
certain Swiss woman  . She, too, had preten
sions  . Her child was taken from her. See now
what she is become."
Struck with astonishment, I remained silent;
but this last observation was not lost upon me.
The duchess grew milder, and drew me to her.
" Young and beautiful as you are, there is a
great deal of the world and of its pleasures yet in
store for you. Don't be foolish. Give me the
child, and go and amuse yourself at Paris."
" Oh, madam, all my pleasures are centred in
my child. My future prospects are confined to
watching over his destiny. I assure you, I would
give up all the amusements of this world for one
of his little caresses, — for one of his kisses."
" How childish you are ! why you weep!"
" I beg pardon, Madam ; I ought to conceal my
emotion. But you have stung my heart. You
despise my child ; you wish me to desert it ; you
threaten to tear him from me ; and you would send
him to be brought up amongst those poor people
vyhom society treats with a disdain, so unjust but so

110 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
profound ! He is the son of a prince ; he is mine ;
he is the child of your son. You know whether I
quitted my country voluntarily; and you are not
unacquainted with the circumstances which brought
me here, and reduced me to the deplorable part
which I sustain. You are my protectress ; and you
reject my son ! and you wish——!"
" Dry up your tears; give over sobbing; come,
be calm. Adieu, Pauline ; to-morrow I will see
you again, and will speak with you. You are not
now in a state to hear me. Adieu." — The duchess
left me.
I returned dreadfully ill. The next day the coun
cillor Tittel brought me an invitation from the
duchess*, which I did not accept. I was harassed
to death. Several people of the court announced
to me successively the duke's wish, thati should quit
the town immediately. I answered firmly, that I was
only waiting the determination of his highness
with respect to the object for which I came. I
summoned up all my courage, and declared that
I would never depart until something was done
for my son.
The duke shut his door against me. Some serv-
See Supplement, No. XLVII.

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK. Ill
ants, whom he sent to our house, threw out all our
furniture. General orders were given against sup
plying the French woman and her son with provi
sions. In fact, a system of atrocious persecution
commenced, sufficient to have extinguished life
twenty times in me and my infant. The castle of
the prince was full in our view : and it was not on
account of his apathy, but by his orders, not at
a distance from him, but under his very eyes, that
we were obliged to suffer all the agonies of extreme
distress. Here my pen refuses to record my sufferings.
My child was dying ; we had no bread ; when I
craved some, the people, in the pay of the barba
rian, loaded me with abuse : milk, water, the
smallest morsel of brown bread, were refused us ;
all that we had was thrown out at the windows.
Even my child, my only treasure whom I kept
pressed to my heart, they came to tear from me,
and the cruel wretches would have taken him, if
an involuntary fury had not seized me. I forced
him from them with an effort of strength of which I
did not think myself capable. " Monsters !" said I,
" you may kill your master's son ; but you must
kill his mother first 1" The wretches reeled back

112 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
astonished. " It is the son of the duke !" said they
amongst themselves ; and they left the house, crying
out, Die herzog ist Chelimen! " Hah ! the duke is
a sinner !"
Here I pause. Before I pass to the recital of
my new sufferings, my soul and my memory have
need of some repose.

END OF the first PART.

SUPPLEMENT.

CORRESPONDENCE

THE DUKE OP COBOURG, THE DUCHESS AND
THEIR AGENTS,
WITH MADAME AL. P. AND HER FAMILY.

Annexed are the documents in support of this
first part. In them will be found, an orthography
somewhat barbarous, French, a little German, a
morality rather cruel, and all possible proofs of the
conduct observed by his Highness towards me.
In reading them over, the reader will be pleased
to remember the age of her to whom they were writ
ten ; and the innocent and unsophisticated spright
liness of a young French girl of fourteen. He will
observe the ridiculous recommendation to attend
to religion and morality given to a child who was
seduced and carried away, without friends or sup
port, unknown, without a protector or fortune ;

114 supplement.
and given too to that poor child by those very per
sons who had so seduced and carried her away — by
Princes, Princesses, powerful Lords and High
nesses, who held her in their power, who were
themselves the first to corrupt her young inexpe
rience ; and to entice her puerile weakness from
the path of duty.

SUPPLEMENT, 115

PRIVATE CORRESPONDENCE,

No. I.
THE DUKE OF COBOURG TO PAULINE.
L'Ebenist waited in vain* for you at Mayence ;
for he thought, as I believed too, that you would
have left Paris on Monday with the post. I have
already written to you to say that you should stop
at the last stage before coming to Cobourg, called
Gleusen, where I would have you taken care of ;
but upon reflection I have thought it better that
you should continue your journey to this place,
where when you arrive, you will let me know by a
note, and will remain until you have an answer at
» The author in giving these letters literally as they were
VFritten, entreats the indulgence of the reader for the trouble
which the peculiarity of their orthography must give him. For
instance, attendu is spelt atandu ; devez, deves; avant, a van .
charger, cherger ; prend, praii ; indeed there are innumerable
blunders of this kind, which prove that the writers must have
been very seldom whipped at school. The orthography, or
rather kahograpUy, cannot of course be imitated by the trans
lator, but he has thought it right to render these letters as
closely as possible in every respect, both in diction and
pointing. I 2

116 SUPPLEMENT.
the post-house or at an auberge. The address
which you are to put on the letter is—" To his
most Serene Highness the Duke of Saxe-Cobourg,
Saalfeld" and it will be necessary to give direc
tions in German that the note should be taken an
dem Herzog. After this I will send a person to
escort you.

No. n.
THE DUKE OF COBOURG TO PAULINE.
My dear girl, in case I should not be here when you
arrive, as I am obliged to make a journey of some
days, I address you and conflde you to the care of
Eberhard, director of the pasturages, (a very good
sort of man) he will conduct you in the mean time
to a farm one league from hence, where you will
wait until I return. I warn you beforehand that you
will be very badly off there, and that it will be ne
cessary for you to be indulgent, but I know your
goodness, dear girl, you will resign yourself for the
present. In the name of heaven I entreat you to
be discreet, conceal yourself from every body, let
no person divine who you are. This man to whom

SUPPLEMENT. 117
I intrust you knows nothing ; he supposes you are
the daughter of a person of my acquaintance who
has gone to Prussia and that you are left in my
care. Betray nothing. If you wish for any thing,
you have only to mention it to Eberhard, he will
take charge of every thing.
Be cautious, and be assured nothing will give me
greater pleasure than to see you.
I trust the girl will not blab any thing.
THE DUKE TO PAULINE.
I have directed M. Eberhard to take charge of
you ; he will conduct you to the garden where you
were when you flrst arrived here, that is to say if
the weather be fine for if it should rain it would
be better to defer it to another day. You will be
presented to my sister the Grand Duchess Con
stantino. THE SAME TO THE SAME.
I send to you secretary Tittel an excellent ho
nourable and obliging man who is complaisant* in
the suite of Rosenau : he will take care of you if
you wish for any thing speak to him he will take
* Complaisant! what a master of ceremonies! — Al. P.

118 SUPPLEMENT.
you about everywhere. I once more entreat of you
to commit no follies nor to dance or run *. You
yourself will decide whether it suits you better to
dress yourself as a peasant or in a French dress
in any case avoid attracting notice as much as pos
sible you need not be at Rosenau before seven.

No. III.
THE DUTCHESS OF SAXE COBOURG TO PAULINE,
I beg of you. Mademoiselle, to take care of the
letters for the Prince Linange ; I have recommended
you to his protection and I hope that your conduct
will be cautious and precise, that people might not
say any thing more of you than that you were cheer
ful. I understand from the duke, that your brother
has arrived in Paris and that he disapproves, as I
do, the excessive folly of your journey into Ger
many. I can never pardon your sister for having
consented to it ; for, naturally, your ruin was to be
the result of an inconsistency, of which a French
* This good prince gravely forbids a girl of fourteen to
dance or run. These are the follies with which farther on he
reproaches nic. — Al. P.

SUPPLEMENT. 119
woman alone could be capable * : show these lines
to your brother ; it will prove to him that you are
not fallen into bad hands ; (que vous nette point
tombee en de mauvaises mains ;) and return to this
brother who appears to me more prudent than your
sister; dissuade your sister. Mademoiselle, from
establishing herself at Coburg; the town is too
small, and the court too often absent to render it
profitable to her. (Signed)
The Dutchess of Saxe-Cobourg.

No. IV.
THE DUKE TO PAULINE.
I have just learned, to my great astonishment,
that you are here, I confess to you I am extremely
annoyed at this absurdity which must be attended
with consequences equally disagreeable to me and to
you. I have prayed of you so often to be circum
spect not to commit follies and thus you answer so
badly to my confidence, my wishes and my entrea-
* Of which a French woman alone could be capable ! Ah?
Madame la Duchesse ! does this show an acquaintance with
the manners of your own country ? — Al. P.

120 SUPPLEMENT,
ties ; for your own interest even this is not well,
as you thus afford an open field to all those who
would wish to speak evil of you. What will become
of you, if you will every day commit such follies,
every day act without previously reflecting whether
you do ill or well, whether you ruin yourself or
not ? This affair particularly will be attended
with consequences the most frightful and fatal to
you. I have sworn to you to keep you under my pro
tection* to provide for your future welfare, but
under the condition that you should be very circum
spect and very reasonable, more so than you are at
present; I do not speak merely of physical circum
spection {sagesse-phisique) but of moral circum
spection which is necessary for you above all
things ; I desire that you will give a blind obe
dience to my advice, it cannot but be for your good.
You promised me that you would scrupulously
adhere to all my requests, to be obedient; and see
how you keep your word !
* His Highness has sworn ; but he has sworn to protect his
victim on condition that she would abstain from dancing and
running: apparently 1 have coiimiitted one of these crimes. 1
have been well punished for it. — Al. P.

SUPPLEMENT. 121
Can I be satisfied with you? do you yourself
answer if you will be frank, you will find that I
have but too much reason to be the reverse,
I cannot yet say what vyill be the consequence of
your absurdities, I shall endeavour to render them
as little injurious to you as possible, but girl
you must conduct yourself with more circum
spection, without that I cannot answer for nothing,
P,S, For the present you will not quit your
chamber *.

No, V.
THE DUTCHESS TO PAULINE.
Adieu ! my poor Pauline ! preserve (conserve)
these pious sentiments which you have expressed
(que vous manifest6) in your letter, and the God of
goodness who judges our hearts will have pity on
your's which is so well inclined; he will par
don your past errors if you return (si vous re-
tourne) sincerely to the path of virtue, it is not so
difficult as people think. You are about to become
* My folly, my disobedience, my want of circumspection
consisted — in coming to aimoy his Serene Highness with the
sight of my poverty, aud to ask bread of him, — Al. P.

122 SUPPLEMENT.
a mother I trust this sacred title, although you
derive it from an error, will occupy your mind ; it
will protect you for the future, as soon as your sister
comes, remove yourself as far as you can from this
country for your accouchement, send me word how
you go on through M. Tittel, that I might be able
to give you directions for your conduct ; and as long
as Pauline will be reasonable and virtuous, she may
count on my protection. You have lost your inno
cence ; but virtue is not effaced from your heart,
be faithful to it in future, and you will find in it
the happiness and repose of your soul *.
(Signed)
The Dutchess Dowager of Saxe-Cobourg,

No. YI.
THE DUKE TO PAULINE,
My good girl, as I will not see you any more
before I set out ; I recommend you once more, to be
very circumspect docile and obedient to every
* This fine morality suffered my son to be born and to
languish in a cabin ; this exquisite piety abandoned nie to
Providence; these rehgious homilies dispensed with sending
me a kreutzer, some nourishment, and a little wood. — Al. P.

supplement. 123
direction which my mother will give you, have
entire confidence in her, {ai plaine confiance en
elle,) she has promised me to take you under her
protection and to watch over you God grant that
no misfortune will happen to you *.

No. vn.
THE SAME TO THE SAME.
My good, good girl I have received your letter,
which proves how good and how sensible you are,
be assured I know how to value you.
I shall never forget you, if you will be good and
circumspect you will always be under my pro
tection, and I will always treat you as a person in
whom I take a great interest you may be sure of it.
Adieu, be circumspect, and do not get sick.

No. VIII.
THE SAME TO THE SAME.
Good girl I have already written a few lines from
hence on the road in order to send you once more
• Who could distrust such benevolent letters ? and yet I was
in want of every thing!— Al. P,

124 supplement.
my adieu, may God take you into his holy keep
ing*; be good and circumspect, and be assured
that I will be always anxious for your happiness.
You may write to me but very seldom and very
briefly and with all possible precautions for all
the letters are opened, you will merely tell me
that you go on well, this is all I ask of you ; my
mother has charged herself with the care of you,
M. Tittel attends to your expenses (de tes tepansce,)
if you be good my mother will always faithfully
take care of you, adieu, my poor girl take care
(pran garte) of your health, and do not forget my
good instructions.

No. IX.
THE DUKE TO PAULINE.
I have received your two letters, dated from Co
bourg, but in these I do not find, the definitive of
your plans for the autumn and winter ; let me
know them. I am for some weeks tired of being
here and calculate on returning to Germany about
* The Supreme Being is always introduced in these billets-
doux of the prince. His Highness turned his eyes up to heaven,
and paid me in prayers. — Al. P.

supplement. 125
the end of next month. What you say to me of
your plans of circumspection, affords me great
pleasure, but I am not as yet sure of the fact, I
think, I can yet perceive a prank or two of folly,
which says quite the reverse ; well, we shall see
that, I entreat of you to take care of your health,
and above all things do not commit any follies,
let me know where you are going, be cautious in
what you write all the letters are read adieu take
care of yourself and be circumspect, I recommend
you to the good God's holy keeping.

No. X,
THE DUTCHESS OF COBOURG TO MY SISTER.
I found your letter from Frankfort at Carlsbad ;
and I will immediately answer it and send you also
a letter for the prince primate which you will pre
sent to him. Madame, I have asked him to give
you permission to establish yourself at Frankfort
and I have no doubt he will accede to my request.
As soon as I shall have consulted some persons on
the affair of my son I will reply to Pauline I re
quire from her and from you Madame the most ab
solute secrecy with respect to her relations towards

126 supplement.
my son : the slightest indiscretion upon this subject
will make you lose my protection for ever  /
am indulgent  but I know how to avenge myself on
those who would dare to deceive me!!! I greet
you. (Signed) Augusta.

No. XI.
THE DUTCHESS TO PAULINE.
I pity you with all my heart, poor Pauline, for
all the embarrassments which you have experi
enced, perhaps my letter to the prince primate will
have its effect in case of a refusal establish your
self at Mayence which is but two steps from thence
you will be there very well off there, and I believe
have much more business. I will send you some louis
by the post-coach until I have an answer from be
low. I again recommend to you the greatest dis
cretion my dear Pauline, you will compromise me
cruelly if any doubt is entertained of your history
and certainly my indulgence will not be judged of
too favourably particularly at this moment, you must
take the name of some married woman and say

supplement. 127
that your husband has a government office and is
gone to the islands ; this alone can protect you
from the embarrassment of questions and from
the contempt which attends levity, as long as
you shall be circumspect and reasonable you may
count on my protection adieu Pauline*. (Signed) A.

No. XII.
THE DUKE TO PAULINE.
I have just received your letter from Francfort,
and I am quite annoyed at all the unpleasant things
which you have met with, and that the directions
which I have given with respect to you have been
so little attended to.
Poor girl ! in what an embarrassment you must
have been. I have told Leopold to arrange every
* There is an evident contradiction between this letter and
the preceding ones. Would they have requested with so
many entreaties the silence, discretion, and prudence of a des
picable mistress, the victim less of others than of her own
weakness, and from whom they did not fear dangerous revela
tions and terrible truths? — Al. P.

128 supplement.
thing according to your desire, through M. Tittel ;
address yourself to him and say that it is by my
orders ; I hope that henceforth every thing will be
arranged. I beg of you to take care of your health
you cannot undertake a journey for it would make
you ill, as in every thing we must be on our guard
do not forget that I am eight hundred leagues from
you, and that things cannot be done so quickly as I
could wish.
In the month of November I shall return home.
do not go far off that I may be sure of finding you
in Germany do not fear that I shall ever forget
you or cease to be anxious for your happiness.
M. Tittel will give you money for your mainte
nance.

No. XIII.
THE SAME TO THE SAME.
I hope that by this time your sister is with you,
and that you have received the money which you
wanted. As soon as I shall return, which will be about
the beginning or the middle of the month of No-

StrPPLEMENT. 129
vember, I will write for your brother. Until then,
keep yourself quiet, and do not forget that you
are under my protection and that you cannot dis
pose of yourself (disboser de vous) without my
consent. Take care of your health ; and let me
find at M. Tillet's (ges*, M. Tillet) news from you.

No. XIV.
THE DtJTCHESS TO PAULINE.
Good morning, my dear Pauline I am happy
that your health goes on so well ; I cannot say as
much for my own which suffers from the abomi
nable weather that we have had for some weeks
to-morrow I shall send you money I could not do
it sooner. Adieu be discreet and reasonable.
(Signed) Augusta.
P.S. You appear to have changed quarters and
as you are naturally a little heedlessf I do not de-
* Ges M. Tillet, for Chez M, Tillet !— Al. P.
f Almost a child, abandoned to myself, in a foreign land,
without acquaintance with the country or the people, a French
girl, who had just left her maternal home, 1 was heedless, I am
convinced of it. Eleven years of punishment have taught me
to be so no longer. — ^Al. P. K

130 SUPPLEMENT.
pend on the address which you have given I shall
put on the money parcel To Madame Lingis Post-
office it will arrive on Tuesday or later at Franc-
fort.

No. XV.

PRINCE LEOPOLD OF SAXE COBOURG TO
PAULINE.
Mademoiselle, I send you through M. Tittel a hundred
florins, to serve for your expenses ; and I would
advise you to be economical because it is not pos
sible to send you money every moment ; it is not
very long since money has been sent you therefore
live so as to conform yourself to your finances*.
(Signed)
Leopold, Prince of Saxe Cobourg.

No. XVI.
PAULINE TO THE DUTCHESS.
Madame la Duchesse,
I am fully persuaded of your kind feelings in
• See farther back in these Memoirs, how false was this
severe letter.— Ai. P.

SUPPLEMENT. 13l
my behalf; but every body does not think like your
highness ; and I am bound, as long as it is in my
power, to protect my child. I see with pain that
wicked proceedings are beginning to be taken
against me. I would bear with them without com
plaining, if I did not know that one day my child
would be the melancholy victim of them. Prince
Leopold's letter excites in me fears for his futurfe
destiny. I am yet ignorant what it is to be. I en
treat your highness to inform me upOn this subject.
I shudder v?hen I see the hatred which is directed
against him : perhaps it would be attempted one
day to turn away from him the heart of his father.
Ah, Madam ! what a difference between that letter
and your's ; what little reserve he has used to
wards me. His letter excites in me the most gloomy
reflections upon my situation. I am very unhappy.
Condescend, Madame, to comfort me: I rest all
my hopes in you. (Signed) Pauline.

No, xvn,
THE DUTCHESS TO PAULINE.
You are wrong, Pauline, to complain of Leopold:
he could not expend his brother's money and you
have asked for it with all the heedlessness and in-
K 2

132 SUPPLEMENT.
discretion of a French woman. It is but too true,
that after so many expensive journeys Ernest must
be very economical after his return which will not
be before the month of February I will take
care that he shall assign to you a life annuity for
the maintenance of your child your reflections
come a little too late poor Pauline, it is before
committing an imprudence, and following a young
man into a foreign country, that you should have
reflected on the consequences ; and I very much
fear that this transaction which had at first only
an air of folly was nothing more than a plan con
certed with your sister for fleecing a young man,
and making your fortune at his expense. No
Pauline never shall you or your child be the ob
jects of hatred or of persecution, your future fate
will prove this to you *, unless indeed you wish to
play the contemptible character of a mistress, then
you will experience all my severity. As you may
be assured of my protection so long as you do not
make yourself unworthy of it if you become the
mother of a girl, give her the name of Pauline ; if
a boy, call him Oasten adieu Pauline f-
* That time has come. I have wanted bread.— Al, P.
t That is to say, Walstcin. What contradictious there are
in this letter ! I wished to fleece his highness ; and, nevertheless,

SUPPLEMENT. 133
I pray God to give you a happy passage through
the painful moments which await you. A.

No. XVIII.
PAULINE TO THE DUKE OF COBOURG.
Before giving birth to his child, suffer me, my
prince, suffer Pauline to speak to you of the fate
that awaits him. I should have left to you alone
the care of watching over him, but at present I
fear too much your inability. Yes, with pain I see
it, they are beginning to take wicked proceedings
against me. I should endure them without com
plaint, if my child were not to become their sad
victim. You have assured me that you could not
declare yourself his father ; shall he then be at the
mercy of persons who will have no regard for him ?
Shall he appeal in vain to your goodness, and shall
it is confessed that I have not played the character of mistress,
I had a. right to demand money for the maintenance of my
child; and yet a thousand good reasons prevent it from being
given me. Involuntary confessions which destroy your consist
ency, and shew your lessons to be only pretexts for cruelty.
— Al. P.

134 SUPPLEMENT.
his father abstain from defending him? It is then
for me to provide against all the misfortunes which
might otherwise happen to him. Ensure, I
beseech you, the destiny of your child : I ask no
thing for myself,- I have written all my intentions
to the dutchess. I do not wish that your powerful
family should believe that I would abuse your kind
ness. I will return to France with the only bless
ing which I esteem, and which I love. Your bro
ther has reproached me with not being sufficiently
economical, while for a long time I have been in
want of common necessaries. I am now near the
time of my accouchement, and I am not yet able to
buy baby linen for my child. Alas ! I behold my
self pregnant, far from my home, without resource,
without friends, and in hope of consolation from
nobody but you ; and from whom ought I to ask
it, if not from you ? Is it right that I should suffer
privations at the moment of giving birth to your
child ? The name of mother would be the most
welcome blessing which heaven could bestow upon
me, if you would add to it that of father and pro
tector. The physician assures me that my accouchement

SUPPLEMENT. 135
will be in fifteen days. Ah ! dear Ernest, judge of
my situation. I dare not say more to you, lest I
should give you pain.

No. XIX.
MY SISTER TO THE DUKE OF COBOURG,
The silence which your highness observes toward
Pauline, plunges her into despair. You have re
ferred her to persons to whom she has applied,
according to your orders, in the last extremity ;
they have not deemed it fit to execute your com
mands ; they wait until your highness returns to
Cobourg. It is two months since she has [deluded
herself with this hope ; her situation is most dis
tressing; I cannot conceal it from you. In want
of every thing at a moment when she ought to want
nothing, as she is under your protection 
I am expecting with terror the moment which is to
make her a mother, in a foreign country, without
any resource or acquaintance, — absolutely desti
tute. There is nobody but you to extricate her from
this abyss. I presume to beseech your highness to
give her a speedy answer ; the lives of two beings
who ought to interest your highness depend uppn

136 SUPPLEMENT.
it. Pauline herself is not in a situation to write.
The confidence which I have in the goodness of
your highness, induces me to hope, that if it should
please God that this letter will reach you, it will
put an end to so much suspense ; it is four months
and a half since she has received any letters from
your highness.

No. XX.
THE DUKE TO PAULINE.
I received, by the greatest chance, on the road as
I was passing through Memel, your letter of the
18th of January, I see from what you say, that
my orders have been very badly complied with ;
and I have been very much grieved at the embar
rassments which you have experienced I am in
deed much annoyed at it as I did every thing to
guard you against disagreeable circumstances of
this nature and I cannot conceive how it could
have happened. You complain that you have not
heard from me, I have been in the same situ
ation this letter which I have received at Memel
was the first which I have received these four

SUPPLEMENT. 137
months from you but it could not have been other
wise, I was expected home since the end of the
month of October ; and as I could not send them
letters, seeing that I have been all this time on my
journey, to apprize them of the time of my arrival
and to account for my delay : they have kept all the
letters which came for me, believing that they
would see me arrive from one day to another. On
my side, the letters which I have written have been
lost on the way by the frightful negligence which
prevails at present in the post-offices. You see
that it was not my fault, and I could not have be
lieved that you would have imagined, that it was
through forgetfulness on my part that all this hap
pened ; be assured that I have constantly thought
of you.
For the present and to put you in safety and out
of all embarrassment I send you a bill of exchange
for a thousand francs. I could not have believed
girl that you were so near the time of your ac
couchement as you have imagined ; but if the mo
ment should arrive be assured of my most sincere
interest (cinsere inderet) and of my best wishes for
your happiness. Be circumspect, and take good
care of your health. I have already said that you

138 SUPPLEMENT.
should pass for the widow of a superior French
officer killed in Poland ; you will have the infant
baptized under the name of this supposed father
which you can select, but (I must write it once
more) I recommend to you again to be disareet
and not to commit any acts of imprudence, I h^ye
reasons for which now more than ever I do not
wish it ; it is upon this condition that we shall re
main friends ; mention not my name to any body
whomsoever ; if you will do otherwise it will not
depend upon me to spare you the disagreeable con
sequences which it will bring upon you.
Be circumspect in every thing which you say
do and write it is for your own good.
Adieu may heaven take you under its pro
tection*.

No, XXI.
THE SAME TO THE SAME.
At last I am arrived here by dreadful roads and
* This tone is cold : these precautions are freezing ; it is easy
to see that the thousand francs are wrested from his avarice,
not by sensibility, or even a sense of duty, but by that prudence
of which his highness talks so much, — Al, P.

SrPPLEMENT. 139
in horrible weather, most happy to be at the end
of this disagreeable journey.
I have found your letters here poor girl how
annoyed I am at the miseries which you have suf
fered be assured that I feel them in the most
lively manner ; I have well scolded the persona
whom I had commissioned to send you the money
destined for you, but they are not so culpable as I
imagined, they have twice sent you money, one of
the times the post lost it, because it was robbed,
and the second time the inundations interrupted
the line of post from here to Francfort*, 8(c.

No. XXII.
THE SAME TO THE SAME.
I have received your sister's letter and your own
which afford me extreme pleasure, I am sure, I
need not tell you that I have taken the most lively
and sensible interest in this event and that nothing
could make me happier, than learning that you and
your dear little one are in good health. Poor child !
* Inundations, posts stopped, robberies, Sfc. Sfc. ; what circum
stances ! a romance is not better imagined, — Al, P.

140 SUPPLEMENT.
what pain has it given me that you should have
suffered so much ; I should like much to see you
and your little one ; how grieved am I that I do
not know when I can realize this desire; but pre
sent circumstances are so adverse that no one can
think of forming projects, nevertheless, I shall
endeavour to be able to see you as soon (ossit dot
for aussitot) as it will be possible for me; say
every thing civil for me to your sister, and embrace
for me your little sapling. Could I do as much my
self ^it would afford me a great deal of pleasure.

No. XXIII.
THE SAME TO THE SAME.
I have received your letter, with the pretty locks
of hair of the dear little one which you have sent
me ; your lines have been a sufficiently long time on
the road before reaching me ; and I can only attri
bute this delay to the passage of the armies through
our country by which we are overwhelmed and
which interrupts the course of all the posts. All
the country and the vicinities are filled with French
troops, a most ruinous circumstance for the poor

SUPPLEMENT. 141
inhabitants ; your farmer of Esslau has alone in his
house more than thirty soldiers to support every
day you may judge that this does not put him in
over good humour. All this and the fear of seeing
the war in our quarter, disquiets us very much ;
for myself it heaps upon me a great deal of dis
agreeable business, which hinders me from seeing
you as soon as I could have wished. The reproaches
which you have made against me, on account of
your brother, are very unjust ; for all this time I
have taken care of his interests by all possible
means, in order to obtain for him his discharge ;
but 'it appears that they do not wish to give it
him ; for they say that such a thing is never done
in time of war. Besides, I have been told that he
was in Italy, which would necessarily delay such a
resolution. Be assured that I have done every thing ;
which I could do to oblige you, in this matter; if I
have not succeeded, be assured at least that it is
not my fault but the unwillingness of others which
is the cause of it. W^ith the next post you shall
have the money which you request*, I pray that
you and your little one may enjoy good health.
* The post arrived, but the money never came.— Al, P.

142 SUPPLEMENT. No. XXIV.
THE SAME TO THE SAME,
It is an eternity since I have had any news from
you. Write a little oftener, tell me what you are
doing, and if you and your little one are going on
well, — ^with whom you pass your time you know
all that interests me, do not forget this, I have
been always afraid that the war would also ex
tend to the country where you are, but at pre
sent, you may rest perfectly secure, the armies
have taken a direction entirely opposite to that
which they took at the beginning. Our country
has suffered horribly, there are a great many
inhabitants who have become mendicants ; you
may imagine to yourself that this has not bene
fited me. We have no news of my poor brother,
which gives me the most terrible anguish, because
in all this latter time he was in great perils ; my
brother-in-law, whom I also love very much, has
been grievously wounded you perceive that all
this does not tranquillize us, I expect with impa
tience the moment when I can leave this to see
you up to this time that has been continually im
possible. Do you still nurse your little one ? or is he

SUPPLEMENT. 143
already grown too much for that I can scarcely^
figure to myself you with a child.
I will send* you money for I believe you want it ;
¦Write to me soon and be careful that no accident
happens to you.

No. XXV.
THE SAME TO THE SAME.
I have received your two letters, but so late that
they are really antiquities I believe that they are
at least six weeks old. I see by your last letter
that you suffer a good deal on account of the
troubles of the war, and that you are afraid you
will not be in safety at Frankfort ; I need not give
you any assurances ; events will have done that
already ; you are entirely safe in that part of Ger
many you tell me that you wish for a fixed sum
for a maintenance, that you might conform your
self to it; I also believe that this would be
better; but how much would you want for your
maintenance ? Tell me if two thousand francs a
year would be sufficient, or if you would want
* I will send you : the future, which never becomes the
present teuse.>-AL. P.

144 SUPPLEMENT.
more*; answer me on this point, and speedily, I shall
then send you money by the quarter, and shall
commence with the first of next month. Does not
this fine weather which we have at present remind
you of last summer. It is very disagreeable that
we cannot pass it in the same manner ; I never go
to Rosenau without my regret being renewed. I
have been suffering all this time, and am suffering
still, from that unfortunate fall which has already
made me suffer so much last year ; moreover I am
in bad humour, because I am ennuied, and lead a
life worthy of a monk. Adieu.

No, XXVI,
THE SAME TO THE SAME.
I have just this moment received your two letters
of the 13th and I7th instant, my last letter, which
gave an answer to your prsteding request will have
tranquillized you in regard to your fears.
I have been charmed on learning from this letter
* By way of providing for the future, and of settling what
was to be sent me at a future period, my present necessities
were put aside, — Ai. P.

SUPPLEMENT, 145
that you and your dear little one are in good health,'
and all the details which you have given me afford
me the liveliest pleasure. But as to your idea of
coming here it is impossible for me to approve of
it or to permit it, although I should like it in the
first place I am obliged to make a journey into
Saxony which will keep me from hence for several
weeks : secondly there are so many obstacles, which
it is impossible for me to detail to you at present,
which prevent your return hither absolutely it
cannot be. I promise you to go as soon as I pos
sibly can to Frankfort, where I will mention to you
another place where I can see you. Have a little
patience, and particularly promise me that you will
not come here by chance like a bomb (comme un?
-bombe) ; that would put me in the most cruel em
barrassment, which would not fail to rebound
partly also on yourself.
My good girl, do not commit any follies, and be
very circumspect, attend to my advice.

146 SUPPLEMENT. No. XXVII.
THE SAME TO THE SAME.
I yesterday received your letter ; I have a great
deal to say in reply, but I have no time just novir to
do so immediately, have a little patience, and yoU
Will have an answer. As to what regards your
question, if you ought to vaccinate the little one, I
not only consent to it, but I think it very necessary,
and that as sooh as possible, — for so far as I know,
the spring is the best season to do it ; and there
are most excellent physicians at Frankfort.
I again recommend to you discretion in every
thing you do. Let nobody suspect that you have
any connexion with this place ; I have my reasons
for believing that this conduct is more necessary
than ever, above all things do not speak to arty
person concerning me. In a short time you shall
hav6 answers to your requests in the mean time I
offer up my tenderest wishes for you and your dear
little one.

SUPPLEMENT. 147
No, XXVIII.
THE SAME TO THE SAME.
I herewith send you the money required to ar
range a little your affairs : by the next post you
will have the promised answer.
I regret that it is not in my power to do it all at
once, but I am so busy that I have not a moment to
spare. A Dieux, give me soon some account of your
self.

No. XXIX.
THE SAME TO THE SAME. ;"':
I received yesterday your letter of the 10th in
stant with which I have every right to be annoyed
as you judge of me and know me so badly if I did
not wish you so well I would take it seriously ill.
Is it possible then that you imagine these are
journeys of pleasure and amusement which I under
take and which prevent me from going to see you 1
Ah delightful ! in such times to amuse ourselves !
They are journeys of business, occasioned by the
troubles and the war in which we live, I assure
L 3

148 SUPPLEMENT.
you that every idea of amusement has passed by
us for the present. I tell you, then, {Je vous dit
dong,) once more, that if there had not been an in
surmountable obstaclel should, long beforethis,have
given up every thing to see you, 6m* it is not permitted
me to think and to act like a child, I must submit
myself to circumstances whatever pain it costs
me ; as soon as I can I shall come to see you to
scold you well for the wicked ideas which you have
expressed. I wish that you would answer this immediate
ly and ask pardon of me for this wicked com
plaint ; besides I beg of you to take the trouble to
give a little more of details with regard to every
thing which you do ; I believe that your letters are
measured, they never contain more than twelve
lines. Adieux.

No. XXX.
THE SAME TO THE SAME.
I write to you a few lines only to tell you, that
if there are reports of the war reaching where you
are not to alarm yourself, and to rest assured that
you are perfectly safe at Frankfort ; the theatre of

SUPPLEMENT. 149
war cannot reach, particularly at this moment that
country be assured that I shall always watch over
your safety ; in eight days I shall return home. I
hope that then 1 shall be at length in a situation to
tell you when I shall have the pleasure of seeing you.
Since there have been again troops in our quarter,
the course of the post has been entirely interrupted,
to that I impute the cause that it is so long a time
since I have had any news from you. Embrace
your little one. {Ambrasses voire cher peti.)

No. XXXI.
THE SAME TO THE SAME.
On arriving here I received two of your letters
which came for me during my absence, I have
seen with pleasure that you and your little one, go
on well. I cannot tell you how impatient I am to
see this dear child, particularly after all you have
told me about him ; you must feel after this how
disagreeable and unfortunate it must be to me to
see myself every day crossed and hindered in the
gratification of my wishes. On returning here I
thought that nothing would detain me and that I
could gb without delay to see you, but to our

150 SUPPLEMENT.
misfortune, the theatre of war is carried again
into our country ; we are surrounded on all sides
with armies and my duty forbids me to leave my
regiment in this moment of crisis and danger. But
according to all appearance the chance of arms
will soon decide the route which these troops will
take ; as soon as we shall be freed from them, I
shall go to see my sister at Amorbach and from
thence I shall go to see you ; I trust you will pray
that this may soon be,
I want time to continue my letter, by the next
post you will have more.
A-dieux receive a thousand compliments.

No, XXXII.
THE SAME TO THE SAME.
Behold me safely arrived, I yras not expected so
soon, so that it was really a surprise, which caused
great pleasure to my sister ; I found her entirely
recovered from her indisposition and her children
more polished and genteel than ever ; it is won
derful how much her little girl resembles August* ;
* Ernest Auguste,— the name of my son.

SUPPLEMENT. 151
they never can deny the relationship, it is a charm
ing child, it is no more than nineteen months
old and already begins to speak and to walk
alone ; but my sister has not given her the breast
more than two months, and she is much better in
health than the little boy who was at the breast
five months. Take a lesson from this and do not
suckle your child too long, it will do no good either
to you or to the child, I impatiently expect to hear
from you I hope that you have written to M,
Tittel, for they will find me here longer tell me
how goes on the dear little one, and if you are well
pleased with your new habitation and what you
did last Sunday, In the fear that you would be with
out money, and that you would be so too long if I
should have waited until my return, I send you
one hundred florins from hence, A Dieux my girl
another time more.

No. XXXIII.
THE DUKE TO PAULINE,
I yesterday received your letter by which I see
with great pleasure that you and your child go on
well ; it is an eternity since I received any news

152 SUPPLEMENT.
from you, and I confess to you that this does not at
all cure me of my bad humour you are coquetishly
avaricious of your letters ; it is not however busi
ness which prevents you from writing really if
I were not so good I might suspect something and
make you a handsome complaint ; who, then, is
this general L****, and all this amiable'society with
which you are so smitten ? If this charming inter
course would permit you, I would beg of you to
give me a few details about it in the first letter
which you write me*. Tell me my dear why is it
you look upon me as one who is on the list of tra
vellers for the other world ? I assure you that at
present I have no fancy for such a journey, and I
can assure you that I am wonderfully well ; if I
were so happy as to be near you, I would induce
you perhaps to acknowledge as much.
You request money from me, I have given or
ders to send you some ; As to your fears for the
future,! can assure you that I have taken measures
which will tranquillize you ; I have t6ld you that
for the present it will not be possible for me to
give you as an annuity for this year but three
* See, in the Memoirs, the motive of this cunning pretext,
and of this jealousy, so well pretended.

SUPPLEMENT. 153
thousand francs I regret it but at present you
ought to rest satisfied* with this sum as soon as
I can send you more, you may be assured that I
will do itt'
Adieux ;—a.nswev this soon, and embrace the dear
little one in my name.

No. XXXIV.
THE DUKE TO PAULINE.
I have just this moment received your letter
which astonishes me very much you are going on
in a pretty train, it must be confessed ; and what
pleases me still more, is that you threaten a jour
ney hither as a bugbear to make me comply with
your wishes, if your return hither were possible,
as it is not, I would not be altogether so discon
tented with this bugbear, for the nights are long
and wearisome ; but for the latter reasons even if
I asked you to come it would be useless. You tell
* I would have been content with less still ; to hear the
prince, would not one think that I had asked millions of him?
In fact, it was bread that I wanted, — Al, P.
t See the Memoirs, in order to observe how the duke kept
these promises. — Al, P.

154 SUPPLEMENT.
me that I should pay your debts ; I confess to you
that I — (je vous avoue que je su las — this dialect of
French is not understood by the translator) — but
for this one time, I will be good-natured, but I tell
you also upon my word of honour that it is for the
last time, and that in future if you commit any
follies, you must repair them in the best manner
you can ; before concluding my letter, I have yet
one remark to make to you : I have often requested
of you details, on the manner of life which you
lead, on the societies which you frequent, and with
respect to this amiable general, whom you praise so
much ; you have passed over all my inquiries in
silence ; I divine, — and I understand ; and I only
beg you to believe that I am not a dupe*.
I am delighted that the little one goes on well,
and I pray you to caress him for my sake. I have
given orders to send you the money you have
required but notwithstanding that I desire that
you will send me a note of what you owe, and of what
you wantt adieu be circumspect and prudent.
* What happy address in this letter ! The prince, in taking
the offensive with reproaches the most exaggerated, avails him
self of all the advantages of his position. — Al, P.
t The good-natured man ! For a monthafter, I expected it
in vain. — Al, P.

SUPPLEMENT. 155
No. XXXV.
THE DUKE TO PAULINE.
You will receive herewith the money you have re
quired, but at the same time I repeat to you that
it is the last time you will get it ; if yqu bring uppp
yourself new debts, you must seo hOw you can pay
them yoursylf. Money will bp sent to you by thp
month, which ought to be sufficient for ypur main
tenance as I shall probably be obliged tP m^^ko «.
long journey and fia I dpubt if it will bo possible
for me to see you beforehand ; I recommonjl myself
to your remembrance, and wish you all ppssiblp
good. Embrivce the little qnc for my sake*,
I am annoyed with you on account of the pretty
letters which you have had the goodness to write to
me.

No. XXXVI.
THE DUKE TO PAULINE.
1 regret answering your letters so late but a cold
caught in hunting has made me ill and given me
* Amongst the excellent lessons which 1 received from the
duke, it may be observed, that he frequently gives me this one,
to live without money aud without incurring debts. — Ai. P.

156 SUPPLEMENT.
SO violent a head-ach that it has been impossible
for me for more than fifteen days * to write ; as I
am better at present, I profit of the first moment of
leisure to write to you and to thank you for the
amiable things you were good enough to say to me
in your last letter ; that was by no means the case
with your preceding letter ; probably it was to make
me forget your naughtinesses that you have treated
me better this time ; to let you see I am not vin
dictive, and that I wish to forget the past, I beg
that we may speak no more of it ; be assured that
I wish you all possible good, and that I entertain
the sincerest wishes for your happiness ; but you
are a child and I do excellently well to take upon
me sometimes the part 'of tutor. I am delighted
that the little one goes on so well kiss him for my
sake. * A coraic trait ! what an excellent thing ! a megrim of
fifteen days, as an answer to the most urgent requests.  Al. P.

SUPPLEMENT. 157
No. XXXVII.
GENERAL L**** TO PAULINE,
The subjoined letter*, Madame, which I have
received in answer to that which I wrote from Wil-
helmsbad, will prove to you that your brother is
by no means so prudent as you are
Continue to be so, and in fifty years hence, you
will find that you are neither healthier, happier, or
richer. I beg you to believe that I will do every thing in
my power for your brother, to whom I shall forward
your letter.
Assure yourself, Madame, of the pleasure which
I shall experience in again seeing you. I J fF V W rF

No, XXXVIIL
THE DUKE TO ADELAIDE.
My dear friend, I send you herewith the livres
which you were good enough to lend me, I will set
* A family letter, uninteresting to the reader, in which
would be found some youthful traits of my poor brother,
whom I have since had the misfortune to lose in the army.
Al, P.

158 SUPPLEMENT.
out to-morrow evening from hence on my return
home and I thought it better to send them to you
from this than from below. This sudden cold
which has surprised us disturbs me very much on
your account you cannot endure it in the apart
ments which you at present occupy without ex
posing yourself to the risk of being ill, it is for
this reason that I beg of you to change them and
take the apartments on the second fioor, where you
will find stoves and which are in general better
suited for winter habitations than the others ; do
not overlook this for if you do you will risk making
yourself ill.
As soon as I shall arrive at home you shall hear
from me say a thousand pretty things to your
sister and caress the dear little one a thousand
times for my sake.
P.S. Do not forget the towels for my sister and
the gown for my mother.

No. XXXIX.
THE SAME TO THE SAME.
The number of troops which I met on my route
and the severe cold, retarded my journey so much

SUPPLEMENT. 159
that I could not arrive here until the day before
yesterday. On my arrival I found two letters and
among them that which probably accompanied the
gown which is not yet arrived ; this delay is most
unfortunate ; for my mother's birth-day was yester*
day, and I wished so much to make her this little
present probably it is the post vyhich is extremely
negligent, which has played me this vile trick ; but,
at all events inquire at Hanau if it has not been
forgotten. With the return case I will send you
the things requested in your letters : the cold and
the bad inns which I found on my route have
given me a desperate cold which prevents me,
almost from seeing and speaking ; happily it does
not hinder me from having the pleasure of com
municating with }'ou. The post is going out; I
must conclude : take a thousand compliments for
yourself and as many caresses for the dear little
one.

No. XL.
MADAME LINGIS TO HER SISTER PAULINE.
I arrived here on Thursday evening, and my first
business was to Write to the grand duke ; be had a

160 SUPPLEMENT.
ball at his house; he was so distracted on reading
my letter, that he thought it was you : in conse
quence, he sent me word immediately not to leave
my apartment, and that he would send me word
the following day when and how he would see me.
When he came to himself, he read my letter again,
and found out his mistake. In the morning, he
sent the femmede chambre of his sister, the Grand
Duchess Constantino, to me, with a note, to tell
me that a person would be sent to fetch me between
nine and ten o'clock. At length the chamber-maid
came, and conducted me to the chateau, where I
was received by the Grand Duchess Constantino
herself, who is the most amiable lady I ever saw.
She spoke to me of you with so much good nature !
She will be delighted to see our little Auguste.
I chatted with her a long time, as if we were old
acquaintances ; when she found that the duke was
slow in coming, she sent for him. He asked me
whither I was going ; I told him to Dresden : that
after his departure, you were constantly ill ; that
you could not leave Wilhelmsbad without paying
what you owed, and that you were in want of every
thing. He told me that he had not heard from
you, that you had not written to<fem ; I told him

SUPPLEMENT, 161
that indeed you had written to him several letters,
and that I was astonished he never received them.
I gave him your letter ; he left me to go and read
it, a,nd desired me to go to his mother, who wished
to see me. I went to the dutchess, who received me
most kindly, and said a great many most obliging
things to me ; she spoke to me a great deal about
you ; that she'loved you very much, and that but for
the event which occurred, she would have kept you
with her; but that they were obliged to remove
you to a distance, because a young and pretty girl
near the duke could not but bring down upon him
a great deal of calumny.
It appears that they entertain the most favour
able intentions for our dear little angel, I did not
fail to tell them how pretty and how good he is.
They do not mean to leave him in obscurity ; they
mean, when it will be time, to give him an educa
tion suitable to his rank : after that, my dear Pau
line, you may be without fears for the destiny of
our dear angel ; and as for yourself, the dutchess
told me that the duke must give you an income :
I observed to her that, it v/as impossible you could
exist upon the li^e which was given you . I ima
gine that they are gone to consult each other, and
M

162 SUPPLEMENT.
that this afternoon they will impart to me their de
cision: but in the mean time I am unhappy,
because I know in what difficulties I left you ; and
that his Highness is not expeditious. I wish that
he would send you money forthwith.
The dutchess requests that you will not pass
through this place when you come to Dresden ; that
at any other time she would feel great pleasure in
seeing you ; but that at the present moment there are
deep projects on the tapis ; that there are malignant
people, who only seek for opportunities to hurt them
and to do as much injury as possible to the duke.
From what I have been told of Dresden, I am
almost sorry for having undertaken this journey ;
in ease that I do not go on well there, I shall endea
vour to be near you without being a burthen to you,
for it is painful to me to see you suffer so many
privations on our account. Josephine has been
much caressed by the grand dutchess, and em
braced by the dutchess ; they thought her much
grown. The Countess de Meinstorff has lain in of
a son. His highness told the grand dutchess that he
found you taller and prettier, and that you become
more beautiful every day.
I have just returned from the chateau, my dear

SUPPLEMENT, 163
Pauline, and my heart is greatly relieved, I was
treated in a very friendly manner and with a great
many compliments. The dutchess and the duke are
going to send you a voiture and every thing neces
sary for your journey : I have earnestly begged of
them to send you some money without delay *.

No. XLI.
THE DUKE OF COBOURG TO PAULINE.
Two days ago I returned from a journey, which I
was obliged to make in order to terminate the affairs
of my brother. On my arrvial here, I received
your two letters which had come during my ab
sence (pendant mon apsance'} : I assure you, that to
the first alone you would never have had an answer,
because it made me quite angry: what then, is it
impossible that you can ever become rational ? The
second has given me pain, because I see that you
are afflicted, and it has induced me to ansv/er you ;
your sister told me that you would wish to reside
in Dresden ; if that can make you happy I should
«. Is this (I ask it) the correspondence of two women who
were conspiring to fleece the prince ? — At. P,
M 2

164 SUPPLEMENT.
wish it much, and if you promise me to be circum
spect, and not to commit any follies, I shall consent
to it, and I shall send to fetch you, and you shall
quit Wilhelmsbad; in the mean time let me hear
from you, and do not give yourself up to an useless
melancholy.

No. XLII.
MADAME LINGIS TO PAULINE
My dear and good sister, I am deeply affected by
mamma's illness and your difficulties ; I hope that
mamma's indisposition will have no painful conse
quence, and I entreat of you, my dearest Pauline,
by the love which you have for us and for your angel,
not to be so ready at alarming yourself; you do
yourself great injury. I beseech you borrow some
money from M. Tavel, as he has had the goodness
to offer it to you, and do not suffer yourself to be in
want of every thing. How, I pity you ! You have
already sufficient distress of mind without being ad
ditionally pained with that of others.
I have written to the dutchess to remind her of
her promises. The dutchess loves you much ; then.

SUPPLEMENT. 165
my dearest Pauline, write to her : explain to her
your situation : she will feel it, and will speak to
the duke to send you what you want ; tell him that
you fear he must be ill as you never hear from him,
and that you are in want of every thing. Do not
hesitate to write to him often ; I am fully persuaded
that he is at home in good health, he seldom goes
from home except for his amusement in the neigh
bourhood : but you know how it is : he always pro
mises, and immediately after forgets ; you must not
stop at reminding him of his promises : he has pro
mised me several times to send you money and a
voiture ; you must tease him. I am going to write
to him ; but you ought also to do the same thing, I
could wish very much that it was in my power to
send you money. But it is so short a time since I
came here, that I could not think of asking it. Do
not fear, my dearly beloved, every thing will turn
out for the better I hope : — adieu my dear and good
sister*. * This is' the genuine picture of our situation and our
thoughts ; such are the stratagems we used to turn the poor
duke to profit, — Al. P.

166 SUPPLEMENT. No. XLIII,
THE DUTCHESS OF COBOURG TO PAULINE.
I have received your letter, my dear Pauline, and
I am quite annoyed that the stuffof which my gown
is made is no longer to be found in Frankfort ; I
beg of you to have an ell of it made for me by
Mademoiselle Moreau.
There you are then quite solitary and quite en
nuied at Wilhelmsbad : that was to be expected,
and as patience is not absolutely your forte, you
wished to go into a convent to amuse yourself.
But let us speak seriously : I am desired by the duke,
to tell you that he is on the eve of setting out on a
long journey which will keep him absent for a
great while from here, and that henceforward it is
to me you are to address yourself. I should also
add, that we shall provide for your journey to Dres
den ; but if you would prefer returning to France,
the duke has no objection ; but whatever you deter
mine upon you must adhere to it : if you again
change your place of residence it will be at your
own expense, for the duke will not pay either the
expense of your journey, nor the debts you may

SUPPLEMENT. 167
incur ; you should therefore make your arrange
ments, for positively you may expect no more than
the ten livres a month*, which are secured to you,
and will be punctually paid, but no more on any
pretext whatsoever. You cannot get more than the
sum already fixed for you, resolve then where you
would most like to be, or with Madame Lingis.
Adieu, Pauline, answer this immediately that I may
make my arrangements. Take care of your health
and be rationalf- Augusta.

No. XLIV.
THE DUKE OF COBOURG TO PAULINE.
I must confess that you know how to keep your
word when it is necessary to cross any person.
You lately told me, that you would arrive here
some fine morning like a bomb. I thought you too
sensible to afford it my belief ; but I find I am de
ceived, and that it is probably to convince me that
* We\], if these ten louis had really been paid !
t The object of this letter is easily seen. To send me back
to France, to wish to hear no more of me, are sufficiently clear
to every eye.— Al. P.

168 SUPPLEMENT.
I have to do with a French head, that you have
paid no attention to my requests.
Here you are then going, I suppose, to join your
sister at Dresden. As you have learned from my
mother's letter that she is good enough to take
charge of every thing which concerns you, it is to
her you are to address yourself about all the ar
rangements which you are to adopt for the future ;
as it is her you will have to obey in every thing
which regards your own conduct.
My mother proposes to see you this morning :
she will let you know where you can speak to her.
I regret that I cannot have this pleasure ; but I
am obliged to go out, and I will not return before
evening ; it will be in the evening then, or to
morrow, that I will speak to you.

No. XLV.
THE DUTCHESS TO PAULINE,
I am very angry with you, Pauline, for having
come here in spite of what I said the last time * to
your sister. I will speak to you this morning in
• See these Memoirs farther back,

SUPPLEMENT. 169
the garden of the grand dutchess, which is near that
of the court, the way to which you know. You
will come at ten o'clock. You will find some per
son who will conduct you to the gardener's house.
You cannot remain in the auberge where you are,
and where there is a casino ; and I am not anxious
that you should be seen ; ask for another apart
ment on another floor of the house or commission
M, Tittel to ask it for you.

No. XLVI.
THE DUCHESS OF COBOURG TO PAULINE,
M, Tittel will tell you that you will be sent for
this afternoon at four o'clock, to come to the cha
teau. The measles prevail in the auberge, where
you are : endeavour to quit it as soon as possible,
and do not suffer the children to leave your cham
ber ; it would be frightful if they caught that dis
temper, I am very angry that you sent the young
girl of the auberge, it will give rise to tales ; at
least have the prudence to say that both the
children are your sister's. A.

170 SUPPLEMENT. No, XLVII.
SECRETARY TITTEL TO PAULINE.
On returning to my residence I found this letter,
which I return you, as I have orders to receive no
thing from you. [This short note is written in vile
French.] (Signed) Tittel.

No, XLVIII.
SECRETARY TITTEL TO PAULINE.
I have absolute orders to receive no letters from
you, and I return you the subjoiHed letter. I am
your servant*. Tittel.
* Besides the barbarity of the phraseology, the barbarity of
the proceeding is too evidentnot to be perceived. — Al. P.

END OF SUPPLEMENT TO PART I.

MEMOIRS OF A
YOUNG GREEK.

PART II.

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.

SECOND PART.

For a whole month, this spectacle of a woman,
dying with her child and her mother, remained
under the eyes of the prince, and under the win
dows of his palace. It was not until after thirty
days of torture, that a Major Syymborsky, a man
accessible to the sentiments of humanity, but de
voted to his master, and forced to conceal the inte
rest with which our situation inspired him, came
to get me to sign a sort of compromise, by which
the prince purchased my departure from Cobourg,
at the price of a pension of three thousand francs.
At such a time, and in such a country, I consented,

174 MEMOIRS OP A YOUNG GREEK.
and signed the deed*, insufficient as the sum was:
and Itook my departure, A prolonged insult accom
panied our route ; the subalterns, the worst and the
most cruel of all tyrants, had been charged to
avenge the prince ; they acquitted themselves mar
vellously well. I was refused food ; I was ill-
treated; they would have almost killed my child
in my arms if they had not feared the anger of
a mother, and if I did not fly to defend him several
times, at the risk of ray own life.
For some time I found, at Dresden, that repose
of which I stood so much in need, Alas ! that re
pose was soon disturbed : the prince came. Had
he not given me up ? had he not abandoned me ?
With that cold and offensive levity, which be
trayed a total forgetfulness of all his insults, he
dared to come near his victim. As to my child,
(can it be believed?) by a strange refinement of
cruelty, he treated him only with disdain, irony,
and a contempt which broke out in his gestures,
and his discourse. I saw this heartless father take
his child upon his knees only to push him from
them after ; I heard a prince pronounce against his
" See Supplement to the second part. No. I, II, III, IV, V,
VI, and the deed of contract, ISo. VII.

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK. 175
young child those low invectives which even the
meanest classes of society never use, except in
drunkenness. It is easy to imagine, how much my heart suf
fered for this child ; for him, alone, I repressed the
impulse of my indignation ; I searched for mild
expressions to soften his father ; I endeavoured
even to restrain my tears ; I pretended to have lost
all recollection of the misfortunes w^hich he had in
flicted upon us ; and yet what exquisite sensations,
too, has this child lighted in my bosom 1
They almost balanced my sufferings. How many
happy moments have I passed with him ! What
anxieties changed into delight, when his tedious
maladies, brought on by our misfortunes, yielded,
by degrees, to convalescence, when I watched the
bloom of health spreading, by little and little, over
his cheeks that had faded through privation and
pain. One day (I shall never forget it during my life) I
was engaged in some domestic matter, in a remote
part of my chamber ; my child called out to me,
laughing: I went towards him; he had got out of
bed himself, was walking, and came to me, and he

176 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK,
made the first trial of his strength to come to
embrace his mother.
My child, solitude, repose, and a bare existence,
these v/ere all I asked of the duke ; I could not ob
tain them.
After a moment's reflection, I saw him approach
us, commiserate our griefs, restore us hopes, sooth
our feelings, and all of a sudden, change to an
opposite course ; insult, and reject us. He seemed
to delight in this barbarous play ; like that domestic
tiger, the cat, in the interior of our habitations,
which gives to its victim only a perfidious truce,
and renders the torture it inflicts more irritating
by its slowness, and by the false hopes it holds out
of giving up the pursuit.
This state of uncertainty and oscillation conti
nued a long time ; it betrays the weakness of the
prince's character, the transient feelings of re
morse which he experienced, the inconstancy of
his virtuous resolutions, and his facility in yielding
to the interested counsels of avarice, or of inhu
manity ; it developes his entire character.
Sometimes he induced my mother to bring him
his son, and when my mother complied, he ordered

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK. 177
her to be ignominiously driven away from his pa
lace with unparalleled barbarity. Sometimes he
sent to me to inquire if an annuity of six thousand
francs for my life and that of my son, seemed to
me sufficient; and in two days after he would
threaten me Avith imprisonment and the police.
In fine, after sending to me a Captain Verlohren,
to promise the six thousand francs, he immediately
after deputed this same captain to tell me that I
should never again have a single kreutzer from
him, and that I might beg alms, if I chose.
Alms! who would have expected such a thing?
What was to become of the contract entered into
at Coburg, and at the price of which I retired to a
distance from the town and the palace? Promises,
signatures, written instruments, all were broken
through. What humanity ! what honour !
Not only by violating his word and the instru
ment signed by Szymborsky* did his highness
plunge me once more into the deepest distress ; but
he also charged the captain to tell me that if a single
complaint escaped my lips, the police would take
me under their care, and that a prison would as
sure him of my future silence. Astonished, and
* See the contract. Supplement, No. III.
N

178 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
yielding to terror and grief, I crawled to the house
of the French ambassador, M. le Baron de Serra,
who promised and gave me his protection, in a man
ner the most humane, the most noble, and the most
generous. He sent for Verlohren, and prevailed
upon him, by every reason which could be sug
gested by an admirable heart and a cultivated and
superior mind, to get a quarter's allowance ad
vanced to me, in spite of the prince, out of the
pension of which I was deprived. Thus I was
rescued, for a while, from that abyss of misery into
which it was sought to plunge me for ever.
May blessings light on that excellent man, who,
at the same time, saved us from shame and humi
liation, and some months of frightful misery !
The quarter's allowance lasted me a long time ;
it was used with rigid economy ; but, at length,
never it was consumed, Happy are those who
have experienced that terrible anguish which
oppresses the heart, when every kind of resource
has failed, and when in the midst of a world where
every thing is purchased, even air and existence,
the unfortunate sees his last piece of money de
part !
Lodged at the Poland hotel, I sent for the pro-

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK. 179
prietor of the house, M. Bienne ; I frankly told him
my situation ; he took pity on an infant fifteen
months old, and on a mother of seventeen years ;
he was persuaded that the Court of Cobourg would
not refuse, would not dare to refuse, the payment of
our expenses ; he gave us lodging, and a moderate,
but not niggardly, board. At the end of the quarter,
he wrote to Coburg ; I saw his letter ; it was manly,
simple, and excellent in every respect.
It was answered — anonymously ; a tremulous
hand, which was disguised in vain, an orthography
a little too faulty, betrayed the prince's writing.
In this charitable letter, M. Bienne was told that
we were vagabonds, or spies of Buonaparte ; that
we were known to nobody, that we had duped him,
and that the best thing he could do would be to
turn us out !
To describe the shocking distress into which
we were now plunged, would be to place before the
«yes of the reader a picture too hideous to be en
dured. Linen, covering, curtains, shoes, every
thing we wanted. I devoured my shame and my
sufferings. I was haughty in the midst of my in
digence, . . , My child and I should have died but
for the humanity of a good inn-keeper, who saved
me in spite of myself. N2

180 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK .
Prince Esterhazy, and several French gentlemen,
among the principal of whom, I ought to mention
M. de Jumilhac, the general-in-chief Regnier, and
General Devaux, had heard of me, and found
means for assisting me in the most delicate and ge
nerous manner. My sincere gratitude could not
avoid naming them here, and the only thanks which
I can tender to them is, to betray this secret of
their very uncommon goodness.
Nevertheless, it was only by a miracle that I
continued to live. In spite of my misery an incom
prehensible and mysterious Providence prolonged
my existence. Every day seemed to be the eve of
our death, and every day of agony was followed by
a morrow still more terrible ; ah ! I have felt it 1
the severest anguish can rend the heart without
breaking it for ever.
The Russians approached Dresden — a new cause
of despair. The populace were infiamed, and every
where sought for the French to tear them in pieces.
I was without money, and inevitably obliged to
quit. Thanks to the protection and assistance of
General Lang de Langenau, we were enabled to
proceed to Francfort. It is true we encountered
many dangers, but at last we arrived ; in our cir
cumstances this was a great deal.

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK. 181
In the mean time what was to be done ? It was
in vain our letters, written on our knees, besought
the prince to give us a morsel of bread and a place
of refuge; the generous prince and the virtuous
princess never deigned the slightest answer.
M. d'Hedou ville and other persons advised me,
as a last resource, to go toWeymar, where his high
ness was, and to solicit the protection of M. de
Saint-Aignan, the French minister to the ducal
courts. I hesitated. This step might injure the duke.
I felt that with the enemies whom his haughtiness,
his inflexibility and his avarice had made of long
standing, my presence, my complaints, and the re
velation of the injuries he did me, would ruin him.
Alas ! a foolish delicacy induced me to spare the
honour of a man who had at once deprived me of
my honour, my peace and my home : a man, who
after making me a mother, used the utmost dili
gence in torturing my existence, who had aban
doned me to shame and beggary and all its horrors,
and who was not to have done even there.
In this state of uncertainty 1 still remained at
Francfort, M. de Czernicheff was good enough to
interest himself for me ; unhappily he offered his

182 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
protection at a price which I was obliged to refuse.
Oh, women of the greatest strictness, when you have
examined my fault with the most rigorous eye ; ask
your conscience, search the interior of your hearts,
compare my situation, my trials, my poverty, my
youth, my dangers ; and say if I have not redeemed
the errors of my early life !
At length it chanced that the allies came to
Francfort, and with them the Duke of Cobourg. A
gleam of hope shone upon my wretched heart:
when misfortune overwhelms us, the least glim
mering is a consolation. Ah ! I soon found how
wrong and culpable I had been in having sacrificed
my just feelings of repugnance to the happiness of
my Ernest !
I wrote, and wrote again: I presented myself
twenty times, all my friends spoke and got others
to speak to the prince . For a long time my adventures
formed the theme of German conversation : wearied
with hearing my name dinned into his ear on all
sides, the duke came to me ; but he came with se
verity, threats, insults, outrages, anger and irony
on his lips. He saw my distress ; he witnessed my
tears. He sat down upon the ill-shapen stool
wliich stood in my wretched garret. He saw my

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK. 183
child looking miserable ; he took him — and pushed
him away again with contempt — and struck him.
At this last act, rage took possession of my
heart. I forgot every consideration; and what
mother could have been considerate under such cir
cumstances ? My child had been without bread for
three days !
I flew to the Count de Trogoff, who had interested
himself for me. I told him every thing that had
passed : I besought him to request the support of
his imperial highness the Grand Duke Constantino,
for a woman and her child, ready to expire, the vic
tims of a prince of his family. The Count de
Trogoff promised, and kept his promise. The grand
duke himself came to me. Noble and generous
man I worthy of the rank which fortune has given
him above other men. He made every possible in
quiry, took long and fatiguing steps to ascertain
every thing himself, and omitted notbingwhich could
afford him information. The terrified prince of
Cobourg resorted in vain to a thousand shifts to
alienate him from me ; to calumny, by circulating
libels against me ; to intrigue, by getting those
about his highness to blacken my character ; to ad
dress, by sending for me at the moment when the

184 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
grand duke was ex:pecting me. It was in vain that
he gave himself the trouble of coming to inspire
me with fears as to the duke's intentions, and to
paint him to me under the most ridiculous and
atrocious colours. The good prince took my un
happy child under his protection. The Duke of
Coburg trembled, and the scene was suddenly
changed*. By a magical metamorphosis, the most bitter
cruelty suddenly gave place to profound repentance.
The duke came every day to weep over the evil
which he had done. Money was given us. Our
debts were paid. I saw Ernest in the arms of his
father ; I was happy : the past was effaced from my
remembrance. The duke in the midst of this re
turn of kindness, begged me to go to Augsburg ,
I preferred Vienna, a more populous city, where
the education of my child would be better attended
to. He would scarcely consent to it ; made diffi
culties about giving me a passport ; he gave it to
us, however, at last, overwhelmed us with caresses,
gave us a letter of recommendation, addressed he
said to a banker at Vienna, and penned in such
terms as would ensure us the most brilliant recep-
* See the Illustrations for the details ; and farther on Note (A.)

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK. 185
tion, arranged every thing for our departure and
our residence, and made me change my name, and
take that of Alexandre. We set out*-
He had pressed us to his bosom. No severe ex
pression, not a single reproach escaped his lips.
It was, however, with apprehension my mother
saw me depart. Fichler was to accompany me.
We knew the man. It was in vain I had pressed
with earnestness for a different travelling compa
nion. It was the only thing which was refused
me. There was something extraordinary in this sud
den resolution. What did it cover? It was im
possible for us to divine.
An old berline was our vehicle. If the duke
were sending it to the infernal shades, he could
not have made a better choice. Broken, old, and
mouldy, it looked as if it would fall to pieces at
the second turn of the wheel. Fichler was with
me. A sombre cloud spread over his grotesque coun
tenance: his conversation was interspersed with
moral saws and broken phrases, and sad and ridi
culous witticisms. His manner was constrained:
he uttered numberless religious effusions ; and at
* See Illustrations, and Note (B.)

186 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
every crucifix which WiC came to on the road, he
made signs of the cross, in deep and gloomy silence.
He sighed, and talked at random ; made reproaches
against the duke for his cruelty, and against me
for not sufficiently detesting him, as he merited, I
was soon heartily tired of such a travelling com
panion, I was sleeping by his side, holding my child in
my arms ; when, all of a sudden, I felt several vio
lent blows. I was stunned, and overpowered, and
at last I awoke. It appeared to me as if an un
known hand were precipitating me from heaven to
earth. I thought that, half stifled and almost in
sensible to pain, I rolled, in the twinkling of an
eye, from precipice to precipice, down to the very
centre of the earth, I thought I was dying ; and
with difficulty I pronounced those two words of
which my heart was so full, " My child! " He an
swered me with a prolonged groan. I found my
self stretched amidst the ruins of the berline, on
the snow, at the bottom of a horrible precipice, my
head cut, and the blood rushing from my wound.
" I am not hurt in the least," said Ernest. I re
covered breath to embrace my child ; and I saw
Fichler above us on the verge of the road, con vers-

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK. 187
ing with the postilion, and looking down with un
moved eye upon this perilous scene ! 
By a singular precaution and foresight, it hap
pened that the baron and the postilion had left
the vehicle and horses at the moment when this
wretched machine was about to pass over the
rocks of a ravine 
Even in this horrible situation there was some
thing ridiculous. The embarrassment of Fichler
in seeing me revive, the appearance of my blood,
my screams and those of my child, the snow stained
with blood to a considerable distance, the effusion
still continuing in spite of all the efforts which I
made to stop it, by forming my shawl into a band
age; the terror of the baron himself, all contri
buted to give this odious person a unique and
frightfully ludicrous appearance. " Madame, ma
dame !" said he to me, with his husky voice, " this
misfortune has saved you from a greater one."
What did he mean ? It will be seen hereafter. I
escaped this misfortune. I was not to escape ano
ther 
Fichler merits the attention of those who observe
the human mind : that silent enigma !
I was taken to a little inn. In spite of my con-

188 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
tinual swoons, I had the presence of mind to ob
serve closely the master and the valet. Both were
perfectly sound ; not a scratch appeared on their
faces. In the mean time my wound was dressed'
and Fichler (who recollected that he ought to have
been injured too) came back, with a large towel
twisted round his head, to tell me that his eye was
strained out of its orbit, and that he feared he should
lose it. The postilion too had his ribs broken ; and
notwithstanding that, he was going to send him off.
Lies upon lies ! The blockheads ! to betray them
selves so easily ! I was silent 
Oh, my child ! what bitter pain was added to
your mother's physical sufferings, when she per"
ceived that, disfigured by an enormous swelling,
she was no longer known to thee ! She called, you
cried : she stretched out her arms to you ; but you
fled from her in terror.
Fichler, no doubt, would remain to take care of
me  No, he took his departure, took
with him the postilion, and abandoned me, alone
and dying in a lonely cabin.
I want strength to continue this narrative ; and
I dare not say what was attempted against me.
The German boors began to insult me, as being a

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK, 189
French woman, and afterwards they attempted to
poison me.
Alas ! I would have suffered them to succeed, if I
had not felt my child near me. But though life was
a burthen to me, that of a child whom I loved so
much obliged me to preserve it. I observed the
proceedings of these cruel wretches, and I saved
his life and my own. Sometimes a cream carefully
prepared, and greenish at the top, was given me ;
sometimes a glass of camomile, the edge of the
vessel betraying, by its brownish colour, the resin
of opium, which the barbarians had mixed with it :
sometimes bitter coffee, the first drop of which
burned my lips ; sometimes cheese made up with
art enough to conceal the sulphate of magnesia,
which it contained ; the chocolate, the bouillon,
every thing they gave me, was intended to infuse
death into my veins. Did I ask for milk ? This
and oil were the only things which my hostess
could not find in the village. I pretended that I
did not know one word of German, and I heard
them (I shudder even now to think of it) consult
ing on the means of getting rid of me*.
My situation can only be imperfectly imagined.
* See Illustrations, and Note (C.)

190 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
I could neither speak nor rise. I was without a
being to apply to in my distress : these wretches
had me entirely in their power. I died a thousand
deaths every hour I lived. To be suffering, without
daring to complain or to weep ; to be appre
hensive of irritating those who held me captive
amongst them ; to live on without drinking or eat
ing, and to see my child dying — could the imagina
tion conjure up all the terrors of hell, I know not if
it could reach such an accumulation of misery.
My head bruised, and badly dressed by the sur
geon of the village ; fever in my veins ; convinced
that I was in a den of assassins ; burning with
thirst, overwhelmed with terrors for the present
and the future : death constantly before my eyes !
.... A position so frightful doubled my facul
ties, if I may use such an expression. I had more
penetration, more cunning, more courage, more
patience, more strength in this horrible crisis, than
in all the rest of my life. I watched every conver
sation, I penetrated every wile : danger multiplied
my powers. What stratagems had I not recourse
to, to put the poison out of the way without my
drinking it ? What strength did I not possess to
enable me to conceal my fears, and not toletanvone

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK. 191
perceive the frightful certainty which I felt. Alas !
I could not deceive myself. Did I ask them to par
take of my wine ? They hesitated. Did I request
them to take some of the bouillon which they of
fered me ? I saw them tremble. One mouthful of
coffee which I swallowed caused a burning in my
chest, which I could not appease until I drank all
the oil that was in a lamp which they left inadver
tently near me.
I found out even the hiding-place where they
concealed the murderous powder ; in short, I was
in the secret of those wretches as well as them
selves. But to what purpose did I acquire so much
certainty? It served only to overwhelm me the
more. After eight days of this martyrdom, Fichler's
huntsman came to the auberge. As I had a great
interest in knowing every thing, I questioned
this man with an air of indifference upon se
veral important points. " Pray, is the baron
hurt?" — "He has no mark of any injury." "I
thought his eye was injured." — " It is not, madame."
" Has he sent away his postilion ?" — " No ; Fre
derick is always highest in his confidence." " Is

192 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
Frederick hurt?" — " No; my master and his valet
have both come home in sound health."
With this man I was desired to set out. Thus
delivered up to my enemies, I was compelled to
follow them, and to see myself entirely in their
hands. What a scene of suffering !
But I began to accustom myself to death ; I looked
upon it with a resigned countenance. By a French
woman, whom I accidentally met, I sent my shawl,
stained with blood, to my poor sister, letting her
know who had shed this blood, and in what manner.
The huntsman conducted me, in an old voiture,
to the house inhabited by Fichler and his family.
The genius of evil seemed to hover over this place.
It seemed naturally destined to be a scene for mur
der. The convent of the forest (such was the appel
lation of this frightful place) was concealed amidst
a vast and sombre mass of trees, which covered,
with their thick shade, the breasts of a rude moun
tain. Weak and yielding to grief, I could not look
upon the retreat to which I was conducted without
terror ; and my faculties, which had been so re
peatedly plunged in stupor, awoke again, when I
came in view of this savage habitation.

MEMOIRS OP A YOUNG GREEK. 193
Fichler embarrassed, his wife too polished not
to have received her lesson, a melancholy silence,
and the terror inspired by the resuscitated victim,
marked my reception in this place of horror*. Its
antiquity, desolation, and gloom, would serve for
the most terrific scenes of a German poet ; they
petrified me at the first glance.
The same fears were renewed on my part; I
would not eat except of the same dishes of which
M. Fichler and his worthy spouse made use. I
heaped all the furniture I could find, against the
door of the immense chamber which was assigned
to me in the most remote part of the chateau. I
strictly forbade my son to take food from any body.
It will be seen whether or not these precautions
were necessary.
I had already once observed, that M. Fichler
poured out wine for himself, his wife, and his son,
from one bottle, and that another bottle, placed on
a different part of the table, contained the wine
which he wished to give me. Determined to pene-
* I have extracted from my journal some curious facts,
which would have interrupted my narrative, and have placed
them in the Illustrations, to which I refer the reader. See
Note (A.) O

194 MEMOIRS OF A VOUNG GREEK.
trate this circumstance to the bottom, I requested
of M. Fichler at dinner to give me some wine. He
uncorked the bottle which was near me, poured the
liquid out with strange precipitation, blushed,
turned pale, and made signs to his wife, I pre
tended to observe nothing. I raised the glass to
my lips, and appeared to take a few sips, but
laid it down again untouched. A few minutes
after, his son, a child of ten or twelve years of age,
came near me ; I seized this opportunity of giving
him my glass ; he was going to drink ; Madame
Fichler saw the fatal liquid in his hands, screamed
and rushed towards him like lightning, overturning
the table, and snatched away the glass, and broke
it, exclaiming, like a mad woman, DorCt drink !
don't drink! don't drink*!
Immoveable I stood near them, and fixed a scru
tinizing eye on the unfortunate Fichler. The
silence of death prevailed for three minutes. The
lady went out. Taking M. Fichler by the arm, I
said to him, " Monsieur, what is the subject of this
engraving ?" " It is  , it is  , you can read it
beneath, Madame ; it is an engraving from the
Judgment of Socrates, by David." " What is this he
* See Illustrations, Note (B.)

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK. 195
holds in his hand?'' — " Ah, Madame, it is the hem
lock," " What is hemlock ?"— " It is  , it is  ,
it is  ," The punishment, the remorse, the tor
ments of the guilty, I saw them as plainly as if the
heart of the minister were before my eyes.
He walked up and down, taking long steps, and
wringing his hands ; his wandering eyes avoiding
me ; he wished to restrain himself, and his face
was all in perspiration.
" It is a poison," said he at last, after suffering
a visible shock throughout his whole frame. As
for me, I was weeping ; and I said to him, " Surely
Socrates must have offended some one. It is said
that he was the wisest of men, and that his fellow-
citizens were as jealous of his virtues as of his
talents. Generally, however, none but great and
formidable men are subjected to such sufferings.
A weak woman, for instance, a woman and her
child, (I continued sobbing,) could never have to
fear such a destiny, and  "
Fichler grew pale, and left me. I returned to
my apartment, where I spent the night in well-
founded terror, walking up and down from one
chair to another, throwing myself on my knees,
opening my window, filling with my cries the high
02

196 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
roof, which echoed them back again in a melan
choly manner, and searching to relieve my mind
even by the terrible excesses of my grief.
It was necessary, however, to choose the convent
of the forest for my grave, or to leave it at once.
This truly fortified castle, where I was under a
strict guard, presented to me not the least chance
of escape.
It occurred to me to attack Fichler by fear. It
is always by low means — that is to say, by the base
passions, — that base souls must be attacked.
" Monsieur," said I to him one morning, " I may
certainly be detained here against my will ; I may
be murdered. But whatever people say to the con
trary, the dead return again. I have a sister at
Vienna ; I have a brother who expects me there
every day, to whom I have sent a letter, and who
will demand an account of his sister,"
If the thunderbolt fell at the feet of the sordid
soul, his countenance could not have expressed
more terror. He agreed that I should go away
forthwith*, and gave me a hundred florins from
his purse. With what joy did I leave him ! What
ardent tears of pleasure did I shed ! What a hap-
* See Illustrations, Note (C.)

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK. 197
piness to find myself freed from his guard ! With
what fulness of heart did I return thanks to Pro
vidence !
I set out : my luggage was soon packed up. I
arrived at Vienna. I had preserved the letter of
recommendation which the prince had given me for
the banker, Stamitz. I was curious to know what
effect it would produce. M. Stamitz, to whom I
transmitted it, found it a mere protocol, without a
definite object, without a single rational sentence !
I fell into a deep and invincible depression of
spirits. Fortunately my mother came to Vienna.
She informed me that her solicitations with the
duke had proved useless ; that her cries had been
uttered in vain within the walls of his palace ; and
that he had heard, without being moved, the mo
ther of his victim entreating his protection for her
daughter. Curiosity alone induced me to write to the
prince. He answered my letter ; and it will be
perceived from the Supplement* with what ad
dress, what coldness and audacity he passes over
the details, avoids the embarrassment of an expla-
* See Supplement, No. 111. and the Illustrations, Note (D.)

198 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
nation, and speaks to meat his ease, feigning igno
rance of occurrences which were already known to
all Germany.
Two excellent friends whom I had the good for
tune to make at Vienna, M***, a French phy
sician, and the famous Prince de Ligne, one of the
most brilliant and remarkable men of his age, mi
tigated the cruelty of my situation. Their con
trasted characters gave me opposite counsels. My
heart, freed from the terrible shocks which it had
received from late events, inclined towards the opi
nion of M***, who being more rigid, and endued,
perhaps, with more simple and less delicate ideas,
could not endure the thought that I should ever
again be reconciled with the man who had treated
me in such a manner.
The venerable and intelligent Prince de Ligne
looked at the matter more as a courtier and a man
of the world. He made use of that sparkling elo
quence, and that piquante originality which distin
guish him, to convince me that the prospects of my
child commanded me, if not to love the prince*, at
least to induce him to believe that I had forgotten
his dreadful injuries.
* See his channiii;i letters. No, IX, X. XI. XII.

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK. 199
Overcome by the brilliant eloquence of this ex
cellent man, in whom amiability, goodness, and a
fine intelligence, are united to elevated rank, I was
endeavouring to forget the horror which the mere
name of the prince excited within me, and which
M*** constantly nourished by his conversations;
when the prince himself had the boldness to come
to see me. What a scene ! I trembled as if I had
poisoned him. He was as tranquil, as if he had
been my victim.
" Why have you not written to me ?" — " Mon-
seigneur, I — I — I have been suffering under so
many misfortunes." — " Ay, some accident; that
happens every day." — " An attempt was made to
kill me, Monseigneur,"— " Bah ! what have you
done to cause any one to kill you ? one must be
very wicked, indeed, to bring such an attempt upon
him!" — " Ah, Monseigneur ! there are  " — " Is
the little one hurt?"—" No—"—" You grow
pale," — " It is because  " — " Come, you are
silly,"—" Pardon me  "— " Are you ill ? Do
you fear that I shall kill you ? I  It is said you
intend to institute criminal proceedings against
me !  "

200 MEMOIRS OF A YOLNG GREEK.
In truth I was very ill. What a conversation !
and what a man !
When I recovered myself, he had the audacity to
take me on his knees. I trembled like a leaf: at
length seeing the terror which agitated me, he
left me,
" Pardon the father for the sake of the child,"
said the good Prince de Ligne to me, day after
day. " Shut your door against him," was the im
pulse of my heart. As an act of complaisance to
wards the marechal, whose goodness ^ whose silver
hairs, enchanting mind, and Winning conversation
influenced me, I now and then received the prince.
Silent during these interviews, which were always
oppressed by a sentiment of terror, 1 allowed him
to speak just as he pleased, often to sustain the
conversation alone, and I saw with unutterable joy
the moment when he got up to go away : an im
mense Weight seemed then to be removed from my
heart. The man was punished. His rank did not pro
tect him from unhappiness. The most sombre
tone prevailed in his conversation, A bitterness
sometimes terrible betrayed the troubles of his

MEMOIRS OF A VOUNQ GREEK. 201
soul. Ambition, remorse, hatred, depression of
spirits, and disgust, inspired him at times with
singular ideas which broke out in the form of mo
nologues. " I am played the fool with, and mocked at.
Metternich! — that rascal, Metternich! he treats
me like a puppet ; but I will — and the Emperor
Alexander refers me to his ministers, who refer
me back to the emperor ! If I do not avenge my
self on this monster ! this rascal ! on this — They
will not give me a portion of land, not a cabin, nor
a subject ; and to mock me the more, they send me
letters superscribed with an address, bearing those
titles which I have demanded, and which they have
refused ! the wretches ! So I wish to plant them
there ! I will let my policy go to the wall ; let
them wait for me ! My life is a prey to their
cursed wars and their alliances. I cannot endure
repose ; I wish for bustle. Every evening I put
three watches on my table, impatient to hear some
thing. When all is peaceable, I cannot live, and I
Will kill myself!"
A mind thus troubled excited in me fear and
pity. I felt the tears ready to fall from my eye-

202 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
lids, while I thought of the evils which the wicked
inflict upon themselves, at the very moment they
wish to do injuries to others. To pardon him from
the bottom of my heart was impossible. I saw a
trace on his forehead, which said, do not approach
me ! but at least I endeavoured to console him. I
succeeded : his remorse, his chagrin, was dissi
pated a little. The precept of the gospel was ac
complished. In conquering my repugnance, and
returning good for evil, I felt elevated above my
self ; and this generous labour is not the least ex
ulting recollection which now smiles upon my me
mory. But there are natures which nothing can tame.
The tiger is incapable of being domesticated. The
duke, whom I allowed to come to my residence
through pity, a permission for which I have some
times reproached myself, again rendered it the
scene of disquietude. He ill-treated my son and
his own. One day he was near killing him by
pushing him against a stove, with as much vul
garity as violence, at the moment the child was
running to embrace him. Insults, maledictions,
outrages which belong only to the dregs of the po-

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK. 203
pulace ; every thing which betrays the forgetful
ness of all decency he uttered against myself and
my child.
I complained to Prince Nariskin and to Prince
Beauharnais* of these new injuries. The two
princes assisted me better even than I could have
desired; the Emperor of Russia was informed of
the new persecutions which threatened me ; he had
the goodness to promise me his protection. The
Duke of Coburg was smartly reprimanded. The
princes advised me to take advantage of the mo
ment, to relate every thing to the emperor, and to
leave to him the care of punishing so atrocious a
crime. The duke would have been ruined. Pity
restrained me ; I could not do it. Thrice I had
vengeance in my hands ; I let it pass away, and
what was my recompense ?
I fell sick ; an Italian, of the name of Piani,
brought me medicine. The Italians have been
long celebrated for their art in preparing medi
cines, which are a summary cure for life. Thus
the medicine of Piani, answered to our fears and
his country's reputation. It was an anodyne mix
ture, which was to produce upon me the effect of
* See some details in the Illustrations, Note (E.)

204 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
an emetic, and to open a quick and easy passage
for my soul to escape by. In compliance with the
advice of Prince Nariskin, I rejected it.
After so many horrors, a writer of romance
would, no doubt, drop the curtain ; he would feel
that nothing further would be interesting. But I
am only an historian, and I can pursue no other
course than that adopted by his highness, in the
drama, in which he has done me the honour to
throw around me so much melancholy interest.
The prince feigned again to be in a repentant
mood ; he came to see me every day ; he sought to
blind me to his objects, and applied all his address
to take away from me my child.
One day one of my Ernest's little companions
came to take him to see his cousins, and a man was
stationed at the corner of the street for the purpose
of seizing the two children, and conducting mine to
the Duke of Cobourg, Another time, a Monsieur
Tills, (a man well known as capable of doing
any thing, and who was banished from Dresden
for one of those transactions which are all but
crimes,) came to me with a letter, which he pre
tended was from the Count de Walstein, and re
quested me to go into my cabinet to answer it, and

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK. 205
he was going to wrap my child in his servant's
great cloak, when I came back again, and turned
out the two wretches. The letter, which contained
a declaration of love, I burned ; it was a fabrica
tion. The next day, M. de Walstein wrote to me
to disavow it, and to tell me that some one had the
impudence to make use of his name. The hardened
originator of all these intrigues came to see me.
O, power of rank ! O, strength of soul, which a
plebeian never could have possessed ! He chatted
with me quite tranquilly, and passed off pleasan
tries quite at his ease.
If women be accused of sometimes concealing
their thoughts, must it not be confessed, that weak
as they are, often as they are the victim of the
stronger sex, in whose hands are all the means of
tyranny, they have need of exercising a command
over their minds, and of sometimes locking up in
it their sentiments ? I penetrated the prince's heart
to the bottom ; all his thoughts were visible to me ;
nevertheless, I was obliged to be silent, in order to
penetrate it the better. I often drew back from this
torture ; but exposed as I was to every danger, I
was obliged to neglect nothing. If the eye of the
prince fixed on my child one of his sinister looks, if

206 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
a smile or an expression betrayed some plot, I was
obliged to restrain myself, to shudder, to observe,
and be silent.
At such a moment, the counsels of the Prince de
Ligne were truly necessary to me ; but destiny al
ways persecuted me. I lost him. My protector,
my friend, my second father, you shut up in your
tomb our last hopes ! In the midst of this painful
history, the sacred remembrance of you makes my
tears burst forth! My veneration, mingled with
love and admiration, will, for ever, encircle your
shade. That force and brilliancy of mind, that
majestic figure and that smile so refined and bene
volent, that mixture of satire and imagination, of
originality and greatness, which characterized you,
never shall be absent from my thoughts I — Age had
tempered without blunting the formidable pointed-
ness of his wit, and he often said before he died,
" I wish to afford to the Congress, which is so eager
for spectacle, an opportunity of seeing the funeral
of a Marshal." Several charming sayings, which
escaped his lips, have found, like this, an echo
throughout Europe. " The Congress dances," said
he, " but it does not walk." A refined, brief, pi
quante, and ingenious criticism ; a keen and rapid

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK. 207
arrow, which was sent forth to disturb the dancing
majesty of those kings who were assembled to give
a bloody ball to affrighted Europe !
The frame of this man was remarkably strong,
and his step dignified ; his manner easy and artless ;
frankness breathed from his fine open forehead,
and his large eyes sparkled with intellect ; a mouth
rather large, but always smiling and benevolent,
seemed to give confidence to those whom the bright
lustre of his looks might have a little discomposed.
In a word, he was so well gifted by nature, that he
appeared to intrust himself entirely to chance.
There was nothing studied in his wit, no regularity
in his toilette ; his long silver hairs fell in disorder
upon his shoulders, resembling, in some respects,
his dashing and varied conversation , which charmed
by its very want of order, by the singularity, and if I
may use the expression, by the unexpectedness of his
thoughts; gay, forgetful, and always benevolent
and amiable, even in his drolleries ; he was at once
a man of the world, and an adorer of nature ; a
prince, and a philosopher. In private society, he
was perfectly refined, and engaging ; in public
affairs, he displayed remarkable ability, — a man, in

208 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
fine, whose mould nature has broken, that she may
never produce the like again.
I soon felt the effects of this severe loss. After
having tried in vain to take my Ernest from me, to
deceive me once more, and to send me to another
convent of the forest, the prince, who left Vienna
after having witnessed the failure of all his pro
jects, at length, formally demanded of me to give
him up my child *. I would sooner have given him
up my life. The menaces of the police, three or four
persons of the court, whom he deputed to me, and
circumstances of terror with which they artfully
surrounded me, all failed; nothing could induce me
to part with my son. The pension which had been
restored to me by order of the Grand Duke of
Russia, was again withdrawn ; my furniture was
sold; nothing, absolutely nothing, remained for
me to subsist upon. " No, no," I repeatedly told
them, "you shall see me perish in the streets of
Vienna before you succeed in separating me from
my boy! The mothers of France do not sell the
blood of their children !"
The Baron de Gibber, M, de Metternich, M.
* See Supplement, ^o. XIII and XIV.

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK. 209
Floret, his secretary, M. de Hagen, with whom I
had some conversation, agreed with me entirely in
opinion. The character of the prince was too well
known to them ; late events proved what he was
capable of doing, and they did not conceal from me
their belief that the duke wished for my child, for
the purpose, to use their own expression, of re
moving him out of the way.
In these frightful circumstances, I wrote to his
Imperial Highness the Grand Duke Constantino ;
he alone, perhaps, among so many great men of
distinguished rank, had the humanity uniformly to
perform his promises. Never, it is said, has he
forgotten the man, to whom he has given his word
that he would serve him. What a rare circum
stance ! His noble soul is on a level with his
station. A thousand florins, a feeling letter, and
an earnest assurance of protection were sent to
me, without delay, A flood of tears burst from my
eyes. What a difference ! Were every throne so well
occupied, would not the world be chained to the feet
of the kings, and boast of it as a noble slavery ?
In the mean time, this noble action, — (who would
have thought it ?) — this high protection of the grand
duke, was near accomplishing my ruin. I had to
p

210 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK,
do with people who could attempt any thing, except
a good action. Messrs. Fromann and Hotte, two
German diplomatists, applied to this affair all the
subtlety of their diplomatic art. They presented
themselves to me as two envoys from the grand
duke, and endeavoured to persuade me to give up
my child to the grand duke; that is to say, to
them. All their cunning could not deceive a
mother. I saw that they were working for the
Duke of Cobourg, and -that, knowing I was in
communication with his imperial highness the
grand duke, they dared to make use of his respect
able name. They endeavoured to sound my con
fidence in this prince, in order that in his name
they might take away from me my poor child.
I know not whether the reader may not feel
wearied of this monotonous wickedness and in
trigue. For my own part, I confess it is not
without pain that I am forced to accomplish my
task. Such a continued and persevering system of
duplicity and fraud directed against a lone woman
of twenty years of age, who had been persecuted
since her fifteenth year, offers, it appears to me, a
very strange and a very fatiguing exhibition.
The menaces of the duke's agents did not stop

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK. 211
here; they threatened to send me to prison,— to
force me to give up my child, — ^to send me to
Warsaw. . . I wrote to the grand duke him
self; and, instead of ail this, he transmitted to me
a thousand florins more, recommended me in the
most generous and earnest manner to his ambas
sador, and disavowed his pretended agents. Fro
mann and Hotte disappeared, and I was firmly
resolved never to yield, nor to deliver up to any
one (no matter wh© he was) a child so dear to me,
and whom they so often attempted to take away
from me ; no, — even though I should insult in the
most direct manner the most powerful man in
Europe. Thus, -exposed to the most frightful misery, and
placed amidst all these horrors, and that horror
itbe greatest of all) of giving up the life of my
child to those who wished, and who still wish, to
buy it from me, I remained one year more at
Vienna. Mothers, it is for you to judge me ! In
order to deprive me of my child, violence was suc
ceeded by cunning, and cunning by violence ; people
were disguised to seize him on the promenade,^ —
others came, (what horror !) — came into my re-
P 9

212 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
sidence by a door which they broke open, — and,
believing that they could easily prevail on my
aged mother, they attempted to take my child
from her ; she defended him, and the monsters
struck my mother, who fell to the ground under
their repeated blows. My heart became furious,—
my blood boiled within me : ah ! if there be no
revenge in this world, I demand it from the Omni
potent*! — But no, no: I have forgiven them
M. Hotte offered to have my furniture restored
to me, and to pay for my lodgings, if I would sign a
paper certifying that my door was not broken open,
nor my apartments forcibly entered. A clumsy
juggle which betrayed still more their baseness and
their violence, by the folly of their precautions!
What more have I to say ? To describe our dis
tress ? Alas ! it is a monotonous and intolerable
subject. Those who are fortunate do not under
stand the wretchedness of such a state for well-born
minds. The heart feeds on bitterness ; shame pe
netrates to the very root of the soul ; the whole
prospect of life fades away ; pride is turned into
* See Illustrations, (Note F.)

MEMOIRS OJF A YOUNG GREEK. 213
indignation ; kindness is refused by a displaced
delicacy ; and very soon after such refusals are paid
for by tears. We looked upon each other like the
children of the unfortunate prisoner, who saw that
they were about to perish, and mutually watched
the progress of death, visible in the increased pale
ness of their countenances, the melancholy lustre
of their eyes, and the stiffness of their muscles.
Men, glad to find causes of discouragement, look
upon you no longer but with horror and disdain.
The dreadful and real leprosy of Aoste, the male
diction of society, bows you to the earth. Too happy
if you be able to preserve some dignity in misfor
tune, and if you do not plunge into crime in order
to escape disgrace, or if you sink not into vice as
a refuge from infamy. For, in the world in which
we live, a poor dress is the first of crimes, and a
purple one the first of virtues.
Among the outrages which misery teaches one
to put up with, I must include the inhuman treat
ment to which a French nobleman, M. de C***,
thought it right to subject me *. He did not know
me; he was, doubtless, deceived ; I forget the pain
which his repulsive letter gave me, and the good
* See Supplement, No, XV.

214 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
which he might have done me in his character of
French ambassador.
I saw no more of the Prince of Cobourg. I ceased
all correspondence with him. His influence no
longer reached me, except through the persecutions
of the police, whom he constantly excited against
me, and through a combination of intrigues which
he uniformly opposed to my cries. I speak of these
horrors without exaggerating them, and without
wishing to interest people in my misfortunes. I can
now look upon them with an unmoved eye, and
can relate, as matters of daily occurrence, things
which the language of man can scarcely describe,
and which ordinary belief can scarcely credit.
I might add that the prince proposed, through
the Swedish ambassador, M. de Loevenhelme, to
have me shut up in a prison, a fortress, or a citadel ;
that he filled all Germany with denunciations
against me ; that there still exists in the Austrian
cabinet a note concerning me, written with his
own hand, and in which he describes me as a
dangerous woman, and a political intrigante. This
is not all I might add, and yet it is surely too
much. Prince Esterhazy and my Lord Stewart, whom I

MEMOIRS OF A VOUNG GREEK. 215
had occasion to see and to know, oftered and even
rendered me important services. Alas! I must
confess it frankly, I have met with very few dis
interested men. Almost all, seduced by some sort
of interest which was attached to my situation, and
by those few exterior advantages which have been
so fatal to me, began by pitying me and wished me
to accept at the same time their services and their
homage. In this cruel struggle of misfortune with
virtue, they forced me to weep over myself, over
my destiny, and the selfishness of men ; and they
only augmented my sufferings by placing on one
side their friendship and my degradation, and on
the other their alienation and my distress.
I preferred the latter. Some amongst them be
haved with generosity. Lord Stewart said to me
in English: " I have spent four hours in thinking
about you. You stand in need of my assistance.
You have rejected my person; that is unfortunate :
but no matter, it is just the same, I have an esteem
for you. Ernest, my child, I shall take care of
you for the next three months. Take this roideatt,
(it contained fifty louis.) and, madam, you may
count on my good offices. I shall trouble you
uo more with mv addresses !"

216 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
M. de Metternich and M. de Richelieu did not
cease from this time to demand from me my child
for the Duke of Cobourg*. I have resisted all
their requests. I appeal to those who have read
these Memoirs,^ — I appeal to every mother ; could
I give up my son ?
What ! is it not a miracle that death, which was
always suspended by a thread over my child, has
not yet reached him ? And was I to give him up, to
sell him, to the man who hates him, and who sees
in him an indignity offered to his pride, and a
living proof of his errors? No; I have suffered
too much for thee, my poor boy. Misfortune tem
pers the heart : I am ready to suffer until it shall
break rather than make a bargain for thy life.
After what has passed, it would be I, thy mother,
who would assassinate thee, if I did not watch over
thee during my life to prevent malefactors from
approaching or touching thee.
I returned secretly to France. I once more
bathed with my tears this smiling and beautiful land,
where hearts are so generous and so gentle, where
* See Illustrations, (Note G.) I have there given an extract
from my journal, and have developed at the same time M. de
Metternich's promises, and their result-^.  At. P.

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK. 217
malevolence is so rare, where the angelic feeling of
compassion is found united with so much kindness
of intercourse. I was without support, without re
sources, without hope ; and yet methought the pure
serenity of the skies imparted their calmness to my
heart. Methought I recovered again that freshness
of sentiment, that youthful bloom of thought
which I possessed in early life, whilst I was once
more traversing those fruitful fields, those shady
valleys, and lovely plains, where nq barren sands
sadden the eye, where all is cheerful, engaging,
and temperate, like the climate and the people.
I was then, and still am, poor. Misfortune has
ruined the best years of my life. Be it so. There
is in this land alone, in these social manners, per
haps in this clement and benign temperature, an
indescribable charm, which fills me with consola
tion. My only wish now is to die in France, and
to have my son near me.
I have now done. When I was cast down to
the foot of that precipice, where I was near remain
ing for ever, and recovered life again to look
around me, my eyes were not clouded with so much
terror as they are at this moment, while they con
template these melancholy pages which have grown

2I8 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
up under my pen. Prince of Cobourg ! if ever they
should fall under your perusal, read in them your
own work ! You have to answer to a young girl of
fourteen years, whose life you have imbittered for
ever! You have to answer for a mass of impo
sition, and of baseness, and of machinations, and
of perfidies ! You have to answer for the wretched
ness of my youth, the privations of my child, and
the sufferings of my aged mother.
The world, my lord, must be a frightful dungeon
indeed, if, sooner or later an omnipotent voice,
shall not ask you, " What have you done with
her ?"
And you will answer, " I have taken from her
the only patrimony which a woman without for
tune possesses — her virtue. I have caused her to
languish in sadness, and to perish in misery. I
have driven her from her asylum as if she were a
criminal. I have forced her to drink the bitter
draught of charity. I was wearied of her cries ;
and I led her by the hand to death, but her time
was not come. I then calumniated her, that I
might inflict upon her a moral death. This is
what I have done."

POSTSCRIPT.

Since my return to France my life has been an
unvaried series of fruitless negotiations, of bitter
grief, and of new efforts made to deceive me, which
I have uniformly repelled. I announced in the
journals the publication of my Memoirs : forthwith
couriers were sent from Cobourg to try to make
rangements with me ; neither prayers, nor suppli
cations, nor promises, were omitted : I was silent.
When they thought they had arrested my pen, they
broke off all communication with me. Wearied
of such continued deception, I have published.

ILLUSTRATIONS AND DETAILS.

ADVERTISEMENT.

Life is a romance, and particularly mine is
sufficiently extraordinary to merit this title.
Chance, like an awkward poet, combines events
unskilfully. In things which have actually hap
pened, those which are most interesting, are often
in a wrong place. Acts and scenes follow one
another without arrangement : and it would appear
as if the author of a drama of real life, had in his
work no other object in view than to indulge his
own caprice and to torment the reader.
It is one duty to tell the truth ; but it is also
another to endeavour to be read. Besides mere
truth in such details, is very often monotonous.
When a writer tell his own history, he must relate
the whole, but he must give every event its own
place ; he must pass over details, which though in-

222 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK,
teresting to the hero, might be very fatiguing to the
reader ; he must not press too much on the attention,
he must stop at the proper time, and constantly
sacrifice his affections, his self-love and his recol
lections. In a narrative, as in life, the art of pleasing
is the art of forgetting one's self.
I have been for a long time accustomed to make
notes of the principal circumstances which marked
the tenor of my days ; this habit defines life : and
many years after, it is pleasant to find such details
preserved, even though they should be insignificant.
" As the amber," says a German poet, " which
falls from the branches of the trees in the north,
overtakes tbe smallest insects in their flight, en
closes them in its lucid tears, and preserves them
for ages."
Should I be reproached for having passed over
several details of my life too rapidly, and to run to
the denouement, my answer is, that I was obliged
to correct the faults of my destiny and to render it
not the most brilliant, but the most readable. I
have had recourse to my notes, in which I have
preserved all my former recollections ; and in order
to satisfy at the same time those who are impatient
t)f attention, and those who wish to dwell on mi-

MEMOIRS OF A VOUNG GREEK. 223
nute circumstances, I have added to the text, which
is remarkably brief, the following illustrations : —
They are simple and diffuse ; they are such as a
young girl, without education, might write, while
she was still agitated by the circumstances which
she commits to paper ; they will furnish fresh
proofs of my veracity and my sufferings.
A narrative is a rapid vehicle in which you hurry
away your reader ; you show him in the twinkling
of an eye silvan scenes, towns and rivers.
These details, in which will be seen the necessary
proofs of my misfortunes and the cruel conduct of
my enemies, are like those annals and chronicles in
which the reader expects to see neither beauty nor
brilliancy, but in which he will find facts, and
lengthened proofs that will still possess an interest
for the man who wishes to be steady and to be
convinced.

NOTE (A.)
First visit of his Imperial Highness.— Change of the Duke of
Cobourg.
The Count de Trogoff was good enough to interest
himself in our melancholy situation. His Imperial

224 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
Highness said at a large table, where prince Leopold
was present, that he wished some light was thrown
on this affair. Prince Leopold interrupted his
imperial highness, pretended that his brother did
not know me, calumniated me ad libitum, and in
the midst of courtiers he met with no contradic
tion. His imperial highness sent about to gather
information concerning me, it was uniformly to
my advantage. At length a person belonging to
his household came to say that he would send his
carriage for me. I positively refused to go, not
knowing what had occurred.
The most earnest entreaties of two or three mes
sengers had no effect upon me, I feared it was a
snare of theJDuke of Cobourg. The grand duke, on
the return of his messengers, exclaimed, " So !
then I shall go to see her ; it shall not be said that
any one of my family has deserted his child."
" Leopold," said his imperial highness to the duke's
brother, " come with me." Prince Leopold ex
cused himself, " as such a step on his part might
give pain to the duke." The grand duke brought
with him the Prince de Reuss, the Duke of Co-
bourg's uncle.

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK. 225
His imperial highness, on coming in, saw Ernest.
" So — there he is, that is the deserted child ! No
body would say that he is not our relative, our
nephew. Come, embrace me, my boy."
I concealed myself. I was terrified. The duke
asked the reason from my mother, " Well madame 1
tell your daughter that I have not come hither with
bad intentions. I wish to ensure this child's wel
fare and her own ; it shall never be said that a
person of my family abandoned his child ; I shall
come here again." He then went away.
As soon as the duke knew that his imperial
highness had been to my residence, he came to see
me. What a change ! the duke was astonished %
he was no longer the same man ; caresses and pro
mises were lavished on me. Such are the great !
Such is the character of these men I
In my innocent delight I hastened to inform him,
that during the visit with which his imperial high
ness had honoured us, he had condescended to tell
my mother that he came to ensure the happiness of
my child, and that he would not fail to come again.
" When ?" asked the duke — " To-morrow even
ing at six o'clock,"
" If you be wise, you will leave him at the door,
Q

226 MEMOIRS OF A VOUNG GREEK.
He will come only with evil intentions ; be assured
if you do right you ought not to admit him."
" Not admit the Emperor Alexander's brother,
who had the goodness to come to my residence to
save my child ! His imperial highness can have
no evil intentions ; no, no, the brother of the Em
peror Alexander is a guardian angel whom God has
sent to our assistance, he means, you may be con
vinced of it, to do us essential services." The duke
turned on his heel, saying the most injurious things
concerning the grand duke.
I was obliged to explain here the politic change of
the prince in my favour, and add some illustrations,
which in their minute details would have inter
rupted the course of my narative.

NOTE (B.)
The Grand Duke's Visit — His Goodness — Hi« Promises.
The duke employed a thousand stratagems to
turn his imperial highness the grand duke against
me. One day I was waiting at home for his im
perial highness who had positively said he would
come. Whilst I was preparing myself to receive
his visit, Fichler came to tell me that the Duke of

MEMOIRS OP A VOUNQ GREEK. 227
Cobourg was dangerously ill. I believed him, and
suffered him to take me to the duke's.
Whilst M. de Fichler was taking me to the Duke
of Cobourg's, the grand duke, punctual to his ap
pointment, came to my residence. His dissatis
faction was as just as it was lively, when my mo
ther informed him that the duke had sent for me.
" Why did she not wait until I came ? I told
her I should come. Look at my watch, I am not
one minute behind the time."
" Ah, my lord," said my mother, " the duke is a
father ! M. de Fichler came for her, and told her
that the duke was ill."
" He a father ! No man is a father who rejects
his child !"
The grand duke, however, did not long yield to his
anger ; he looked over our little apartment, repeat
ing, " a duke ! a duke ! he reigns over six peasants
and two village apothecaries !" He suffered him
self to be led into my chamber by my son, and to
amuse this child in whom he felt an interest, and
whom his great soul wished to save, he condescended
even to play with him a long time. My poor
mother's heart was full of happiness and hope.
His imperial highness promised he would come
Q 2

228 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
again. The Duke of Cobourg appeared highly
pleased with the grand duke's anger, and remained
some time with me, and made me a thousand and a
thousand protestations.
A short time after, I received the following
note: —
" Madame, I have the honour to inform you,
that you will receive a visit from his imperial
highness the grand duke and from the duke of
Cobourg about six o'clock ; I reserve to myself the
pleasure of seeing you to-morrow at ten o'clock ; I
shall then present you with the draft of your
pension. — Your devoted servant, B. Fichler."
We were in the deepest distress ; we were in
want of wood, light, clothing and furniture. This
indigence, which so strongly accused the Duke of
Cobourg, forcibly struck his imperial highness. He
shut the window, and saw that the half of the
panes were wanting. He expressed, by a gesture
and a sigh, the pity with which our situation in
spired him.
The grand duke took a chair, and sitting down
opposite to me, placed Ernest upon his knees, and
^aid to Prince Leopold, " sit you down near me.

MEMOIRS OF A YpUNG GREEK. "229
Madame," said he to my mother, 'do you chat a
while with Leopold, I wish to speak a word or two
to your daughter. Instead of coming here, madame,
why did you not wait for us at Dresden ? I have
been told that you hastened away."
" I did not remain at Dresden, because a letter
was written from Cobourg to the hotel where I was
lodged, desiring the proprietor to turn out myself
and mr child."— '• Ah ! that is another affair ! why
did Tou not go to Cobourg to -demand a subsistence
from the duke, instead of going to Frankfort V
" I did not go to Cobourg, because both my child
and myself have been ill treated there. When I went
thsre before, to demand a subsistence for my child,
I was threatened in the most shocking manner, and
forbidden ever to set foot within its walls again.
Not knowing what was to happen, we went in de
spair to the French generals, who took compassion
on our melancholy situation, and gave us a passport
for Frankfort."
'• Why did you not write." — " My lord, I did
write, and that very often."' —
" But you did not write to the grand duchess, my
wife ?"
• My lord I did write to her highness also."

230 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
"So!"" But I received no answer ; I appeal to Prince
Leopold to say whether or not what I say is true."
" Leopold, is this true f"
"It is true," answered Prince Leopold, casting
at me at the same time a tremendous look.
" So ! well ! well ! madame ! I trust that all this
will soon be at an end, it shall never be said that
any one of my family abandoned his child ; my little
friend," he continued, addressing himself to my son,
" you are my nephew. You shall want for nothing,
I pledge you my word and honour for that. Ma
dame, said he to me, never let your child be sepa
rated from you ; and if any thing should happen,
remember that you are under my special pro
tection." He then went away.
This good prince has since given me new proofs
of his generosity and humanity. I have only ex
tracted this simple scene from my journal, for the
purpose of citing my plain and conclusive answers
to the severe interrogatories of the grand duke.

MEMOIRS OP A YOUNG GREEK, 231

NOTE (C.)
Situation of the Convent of the Forest— My Arrival — The
Repast.
It was an old convent seated on the top of a high
mountain. We saw it for a long time before we
reached it. We took three hours to get up to this
convent, so steep was the road.
After a thousand alarms, the voiture stopped be
fore a door : an old servant came out with a light. I
was conducted up stairs, and through several im
mense corridors, until at length I found myself in a
vast saloon.
M. Fichler made me sit down near a table :
Madame Fichler received me in a polite manner.
In a moment after, the huntsman came in and said
to M. Fichler, " madame has not drunk any thing."
" Hush," said M. Fichler to him, putting his finger
at the same time to his mouth. He then took him
out. Fichler came back in a long time after, and said
to me that upon his arrival he was very much
astonished at not finding his lady in a different

232 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
country house, and that he was obliged to retrace
his steps.
I asked him where was his postilion, and whe
ther he had dismissed him? " Surely, madame !
The slovenly rogue, who was near killing us all !
Yes, certainly ! I sent him away the moment I
arrrived here ; you will never see him again in my
house." What lies !
The soup was served up, M. Fichler placed me
near him, and my son sat next me. On the other
side of M. Fichler sat his lady : and on each side of
him stood a bottle of wine.
It was in vain that I begged of him to give me
some of the wine which he poured out for his lady.
He pretended that it was medicated for her parti.
cular use, and he persevered in filling my glass
from the other bottle. I trembled.
I drank a little. I did not like to let him see
that I was distrustful of him. A servant gave some
beer to M. Fichler's children ; I thought this a good
reason for giving my child the same beverage.
Ah ! what a cruel situation was mine ! I told
Fichler, that I wished to go away the next morning.

MEMOIRS OF A VOUNG GREEK. 233
" No, no, madame ; you must rest a little ; there is
no immediate hurry. The duke is absolutely
against your quitting my chateau ; whether you
like it or not, you must remain ! "
At night I went to bed. I was led through long
galleries, into an immense chamber, where there
was absolutely no furniture, except an old bed in a
corner, some chairs, and a table. The walls were
whitewashed, and it was evidently a long time
since this part of the convent had been inhabited.
My chamber was separate from all the others ; I
found myself quite seclude from the chateau. I
was frightened, and could not enjoy the repose
which I so much wanted. Absorbed in my melan
choly situation, the incident which had happened
to me excited my utmost fears.

NOTE (D.)
Another Repast
The next day at dinner time, I made the same
observation. Always a separate bottle for me and
my child, to whom I had given several cautions not
to drink any of it.

234 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
Towards the conclusion of dinner, M. Fichler
filled our glasses with wine. " Take at least one
glass," said he to me, I lifted the glass to my
mouth, and pretended to drink ; my eye was all
the time fixed on my child, I trembled, — I grew
pale ; I saw, with unutterable terror, my child take
the glass, and put it to his mouth, " My loved
angel  do not drink it ; you have had enough,"
and I took the glass from him ; he had already
taken a little.
My son's glass remained almost full. M. Fich
ler's son came near him, and asked some of his
wine ; Ernest gave him his glass ; the boy was going
to drink, when Madame Fichler immediately got
up with the greatest haste from the table, and
cried out several times, " My child! don't drink,
don't drink* ! !" All pale, and beside herself, she
snatched Ernest's glass from her son's hands.
M. Fichler was also agitated and trembling.
Madame Fichler rose from table. We all observed
a gloomy silence. She went out and took her chil
dren with her. I remained alone with M. Fichler »
who walked up and down hastily in the chamber.
At night, my poor Ernest had alarming colicks, '
^ Mein kind! trinknichl!

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK. 235
NOTE (E.)
Fichler frightened — Departure from the Convent of the Forest.
How astonished Fichler was, on learning that I
had relatives, and that I was not absolutely alone
in the world ! How elongated his face became at
this intelligence ! He imagined at once that he
saw the whole family armed against him, and com
ing to demand an account of the blood of a daughter
and a sister.
" How, madame !" said he to me with an air of
astonishment, " have you a sister and a brother
at Vienna ? You mentioned nothing of this at
Francfort !"
" I did not think it necessary, sir, to mention
every thing concerning my affairs. My sister is
married to a person who has a place in Vienna ;
and the false situation in which I am placed, the
species of exile in which I have lived, on account of
my unfortunate connexion with the duke, have
hitherto prevented me from speaking of my family.
If I had no relatives there, what business should I
have to Vienna ?"
M. Fichler did not recover from his surprise.

236 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
" That is very different, madame ; that changes
the whole affair."
" Yes, sir, I must go ; my sister, I have no doubt,
is already on the road. Give me a companion as
far as Augsburg ; I will leave my trunk there with
a banker who will advance me money."
" No, no, madame," said Fichler to me, " I shall
give you a hundred florins ; it is most probable
that the duke will not repay them to me, but it is
no great matter."
I intimidated Fichler to such a degree, that he
was glad to see me depart. He made me sign a
number of accounts, really apothecary's accounts.
I saw how incorrect they were ; I clearly perceived
that the sum total was at least tripled. I was silent,
and too happy to escape from this dungeon, I
signed every thing without examination.
Fichler was no longer the same person with re
gard to me ; he gave me a shocking character of
his highness. He excused himself for having been
in any degree instrumental to my sufferings ; he
overwhelmed me with politeness ; he sent on a man
to Augsburg to retain a place for me to Munich.
Oh, my God ! thy divine Providence saved my trea
sure, my dearly-beloved child !

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK. 237
It would be impossible to form a conception of
the pleasure which I felt, on seeing myself safe out
of the hands of the wicked Fichler. The same ser
vant accompanied me ; he supported me while
going down the mountain, which was very dan
gerous, and which it was impossible to descend in
the voiture. It was past three o'clock in the morn
ing. With what ardent joy did I thank the Supreme
Being, for having rescued myself and my child
from so many sufferings and dangers !

NOTE (F.)
My mother goes to the Duke, after the accident which was
near killing me — Proofs of the complicity of the Duke, and
his embarrassment in endeavouring to conceal it.
When my mother received the letter in which I
informed her of the barbarous and shocking treat
ment of the prince, she cried aloud, and became ill.
She hastened immediately to the duke's. She
only found there a gentleman of rather a respectable
appearance. All bathed in tears, she recounted
this mysterious event. The gentleman did every
thing in his power to calm her, and told her that
the duke would be back shortly. The duke, how
ever, did not come back.

238 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
My mother returned home, her heart full of de
spair. She spent the night in sobbing. As soon as
it was daylight, she hastened to the duke's again.
She saw a door open, — she entered, and saw no
person ; she rapped at another door ; the duke re
cognised her voice, and came to open it for her.
He was scarcely dressed ; on seeing my mother he
was embarrassed ; he trembled and turned pale.
" Prince," exclaimed my mother, " to whom
have you intrusted my daughter and your son?
Assassin, give me up my children ! dead or alive,
they must be found !"
The duke was struck dumb ; he knew not what
to say.
" Have you heard any thing of her?" — " No ; I
have received only one letter from your daughter."
He ran to his escritoire, took out the letter which
I had written to him, and read with a trembling
voice, " My prince, in the name of heaven come to
our assistance, an attempt has been made to poison
us!" When he read these words, my mother faint
ed ; her despair knew no limits : she upbraided the
duke with all the energy which the grief of a
mother could inspire.
The duke besought my mother to let the matter

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK. 239
rest where it was, and assured her that he would
immediately write, with his own hand, for the pur
pose of making every necessary inquiry.
" My God! how could you have intrusted your
infant and my daughter to such a monster?"
" I thought him an excellent man ; he has been
twelve years in my service."
" Send persons after them."
" It will not signify ; they have been arrested,
because prince Metternich has given him a false
passport." " How, prince, you know the facts, then, and
yet have been feigning ignorance of them ! And
why should the prince de Metternich have deceived
my daughter ? It is you yourself who have made
him give it; you deceive me, you  prince! my
children must be found !"
The duke endeavoured to appease my mother ;
he promised her money, a fortune, a country house,
and I know not how much treasure, for myself and
child, if we would only be silent. My mother left
him without giving him any answer.
My mother then went to the house of M, Gib-
hard Hauch, the banker, who had given me the
letter of recommendation for Vienna,

240 MEMOIRS OF \ VOUNG GREEK.
All in tears, she begged of him to write imme
diately to Vienna ; — that serious mishaps had oc
curred to me ; — that I was compelled to travel with
this monster, 8fc. 8fC.
The banker refused to write, but he gave her M.
Fichler's address. As soon as my mother obtained
it, she went to let the duke know that she had got it,
" Who has given it to you?" asked the duke in
astonishment; " Let me see it." He took the slip
of paper, and continued : " Oh, this is not his ad
dress : that place has been sold fifty years ago, it
does not belong to him now,"
He spoke falsely ; this was only a pretext for his
not returning the paper to my mother. He was
embarrassed, and he concluded by confessing that
he had received a letter from Fichler ; — that it was
true we had been overturned ; — that I was hurt,
but that the child was not injured in the least. He
went so far as to ask my mother, if it were true
that she had a daughter living in Vienna ?
My mother penetrated my stratagem, and an
swered in the affirmative. The duke's complicity
was thus made evident by his ambiguities, his
falsehoods, and his answers.
The friends and agents of the duke made every

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK. 241
exCTtion to destroy any interest my circumstances
might have inspired, by circulating evil reports
concerning my character, not my conduct ; this was
already too well known.
We were abandoned to the most shocking misery.

NOTE (G.)
Attempts to take uway my Child.
One night we remained up rather late, talking of
all the cruelties which had been practised against
us, and of the misery in which an inhuman father
kept his young child. The hours passed away, and
we did not retire to rest until near morning.
Just as I was going to sleep, I was disturbed, by
hearing the wooden bar break which I put every
night across a door of communication that was in
my chamber.
I leaped out of my bed, uttering cries of alarm ;
my first impulse was to run towards my child's bed,
to protect him ; but, in the mean time, I heard my
door broken open, and I fainted in the middle of
my chamber. My mother, and sister, and the
children ran to me when they heard my cries, and
R

242 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
saw me stretched on the floor, deprived of all feel
ing. The bar was found broken, and the door
burst open, but the fellows fled in consequence of
my cries.
One morning, some time after this, as I was
quite alone, the proprietor of the apartments
which I occupied, rapped at the door, and re
quested me to open it. I had the prudence, see
ing myself alone, to shut my child up in a dark
chamber, the key of which I took away. I then
opened the door; he entered my chamber, looked
all around, made use of several insulting expres
sions, and seized the key of my door of communi
cation. I told him that he had no right to do such
a thing. He would not give it up, and went out.
As soon as he went into his own house, to give
notice, no doubt, that he had the key, I put the
wooden bar across the door, having tied it at the
broken part with a large red handkerchief; the
door was in a recess My object was to protect
myself from insults. My mother, who had gone
out, fortunately returned. 1 then took my child,
and ran to the minister of police, to inform him of
every thing which had happened.
I went down stairs as quickly as my fears could

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK, 243
urge me ; I ran to Count Zilinski's ; there I but
too plainly saw that I was given up to all the in
trigues of the Duke of Coboufg.
" Madame, I have already told you, that the
government will protect you." "Alas! how can I
believe this? Remember what has happened.
Force and stratagem have been used for the pur
pose of taking away my child from me."
The Count de Zilinski had no pity for me, and
referred me, in the roughest manner, to the police."
I was scarcely in the street when the wretches
forced the door of my chamber, broke away the
pieces of wood, and tore the handkerchief to rags.
My mother, not knowing what was the matter, and
seeing that our asylum was violated in the Open
day, ran to the ante -chamber, but not being able to
open the window, she returned to my chamber, and
had just time to throw open the window and to cry
out for assistance. The door yielded easily to their
efforts, but alarmed by my mother's cries, they fled
precipitately to Janny's chamber ; there were seve
ral men.
Unspeakable horror ! they struck my mother ! 
And the police, in the pay, no doubt, of the prince,
R 2

244 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
instead of punishing Janny, threatened, on the con
trary, to put my mother in prison.
A report was spread that it was fire which had
broken out in my apartments. M. Hotte, who
lived beneath us, never came to our assistance, nor
even sent to us one of his servants. Why did this
happen, after the protection with which he said the
prince honoured us? Every person in the house
came up but himself.
I went down to him ; I found him all in a trem
ble : he told me that I should not publish my affairs
to all the world, nor mention what had happened.
He came up with me to see the shattered bar and
the broken door, which was still open.
All these circumstances led me to believe that
M. Hotte was not an entire stranger to this horrible
affair. But what evidently proved that he was the
author of this occurrence, was that one of his ser
vants brought me the key which Janny had taken
from me.

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK. 245
NOTE (H.)
Horrible distress.
Great God ! what a cruel situation ! my mother
stretched on a pallet, without covering, without
linen; my unhappy Ernest starving, his feet naked,
and I myself in the same situation !
In this state we were when the Holy Sacrament
was brought to my mother. The paleness of death
was on all our countenances ; my child, not being
able any longer to endure his sufferings, cried aloud
for death; he came to me, and throwing himself in
my arms, said, " Mamma ! my dear Mauoma! give
something to eat to your child ! he is dying !" My
despair knew no bounds. This unhappy child then
conjured me to console myself, and assured me that
he was not hungry.
A neighbouring lady came to our assistance, and
gave us every aid while my mother was sick. After
my mother, my child fell sick ! Alas ! lew painful
was my situation !

246 MEMIIIRS OF A VOI'NG GREEK.
NOTE (I.)
M. de Metternich's interference.
"Very well," said M. de Metternich to me:
" we must have done with the duke : both you and
your child will suffer ; and afl this does injury to
the duke, for your history makes a terrible noise in
Vienna. We must have done with it. Come, then,
it is my wish to arrange every thing for the best ;
but you must promise me to be reasonable. It is
impossible for you to educate the child yourself :
he must be in the hands of men ; your son must be
placed in a college." — " Never, prince, never will I
consent to it : I have too many fears." — " Patience
a moment. See what I wish to do for the duke
and for you . You absolutely do not wish to in
trust him to the duke.?" — " No, prince !" — " Very
well, give him to me, I shall treat him as if he
were my own son ; I shall answer for him ; I shal'
place him in a college ; I shall take care that you
must have a good pension. What the duke gives
you is not enough for your subsistence, you must
have at least six times as much more. Ernest
must have an income of fifteen thousand francs, a
title, and his father's name ; for I will have him

MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK. 247
legitimated, and I will take him under my protec
tion. When he is grown up, I shall let him make
his own way ; and the title of Count, which I shall
obtain for him, will assist and not impede his ad
vancement." — " My prince, how sincerely grateful
do I feel to you for your goodness ; but I fear
very much that in a college attempts might still be
made to injure him." — " Have no fears on that
point ; no one will attempt such a thing while he
is under my protection : besides, he shall be at
tended by my physicians, and woe to them if they
attempt the least thing against him. I will an
swer for his life." — " But the duke might take him
away." — " No, he will remain in Austria, where
the duke can have no power over him ; he will
buy an estate here. Your fate and his must be de
cided immediately. You shall go to the college as
often as you please to see your son. God forbid
that I should ever prevent a mother from seeing her
child, and particularly such a mother as you, who
have devoted yourself to him in so noble and gene
rous a manner. Consider, then, if you wish to
accept my proposition. If you consent to confide
your child to^me, I will make a similar proposition to
the duke. Say yes, and you will escape from all that

248 MilMOlRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
misery in which you have been hitherto plunged.
You will have a subsistence; and Will it not be
much more delightful to you to see your son well
educated, in want of nothing, and with assured
prospects before him? Such are my propositions,
do you accept them ? If you refuse them, the duke
will abandon you for ever. I do not press you :
fconsider well : you no doubt are afraid that I am
in concert with him to kill your child ? I wish you
would agree. Give me your answer as speedily as
possible, before I write to Cobourg."
I returned home. In spite of all these great ad-
Vantages, I could not prevail on myself to give up
my child. A secret instinct warned me of the per-
fidlousness of diplomacy.
I wrote to him, however, stating, that since he
pledged his honour to me for the life of my child,
and assured me that he would never give him up to
the duke ; and as he had promised me solemnly
that this affair would be brought to a final conclu
sion, and that neither I nor my child would ever
again have any thing in common with the duke, I
would accept his propositions: but I added, " that
it was necessary that he should observe, word for
Word, all the promises which he had the goodness

MEMOIRS OP A YOUNG GREEK. 249
to make me ; and that without this I would consent
to nothing."
Itook my letter: they were at dinrter. I re
turned the next day for an answer. The attendants
told me that the prince would give it me himself.
I entered his cabinet.
" I am glad that you have accepted my propo
sitions. Every thing will be arranged better than
you could have imagined. In the mean time,
while we are waiting for an answer from Cobourg,
here are five hundred francs, which I do myself the
pleasure of giving you from my purse. I am going
to write. But novv, as I am going to enter into ne
gotiations, give me your word of honour, that you
will not mention a word of this to any person ; I
require this." — " Prince, I am suffering, and must
J say nothing!" — "Nothing: in every society no
thing is spoken of but your history. The dUke is
incessantly complaining to our policfe ; and you
have addressed a memorial to the Archduke Reg
nier, in which there are strong charges." — " It is
not my fault if I am compelled to speak the truth."
" Yes : but it is not always right to speak out all
the truth."
" Why has the duke intrigued with foreign am-

250 MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK.
bassadors against me and my child ? You cannot
deny, prince, that Count de Loevenhelm, the
Swedish ambassador, demanded of you, before a
large circle, to have me shut up in a citadel,
adding, that it was not proper that a great family
should be compromised for a woman and child.
You turned your back upon him." " If he had
made a similar request of me in my cabinet, I
should have turned him out."
Such was the footing upon which these negotia
tions were placed. But, ultimately, can it be be
lieved? not one of these promises was fulfilled.
Prince de Metternich employed all this apparent
benevolence only for the purpose of rendering me
subservient to the Duke of Cobourg's purposes, and
of inducing me to place my son in the power of my
enemies. I refused to do this; he withdrew his
protection, and the most frightful misery again
overwhelmed us.

SUPPLEMENT TO PART IL

No, I.
CONTRACT.
Cobourg, 'ibih April, 1810,
Article 1, — A sum of three thousand francs
is granted as an annual pension to Madame A. P.
Alexandre. Art, 2. — This sum will be paid to her by a
banker in the town where she will reside ; and
she will receive the sixth part of it every two
months. Art. 3. — ^The debts which Madame A. P. Alexan^
dre has contracted at Wilhelmsbad, and of which
she has presented an account, shall be paid.
Art, 4. — The expenses of her journey to Dresden
shall be given her.
Art. 5. — She shall receive twelve Jiundred francs
as an outfit.
Art. 6. — Any debts which she may contract here
after will not be paid for her.

252 supplement.
Art, 7.— Madame A, P. Alexandre will quit the
states of his Serene Highness the Duke of Cobourg
immediately, and never return to any part of them
again : otherwise the 1st, 3d, 4th, and 5th articles
shall be null and void.
Done in duplicate at Cobourg, the 25th of
April, 1810, By order,
(Signed) De Szymborski.

No. II.
M. VERLOHREN TO PAULINE.
Dresden, lOth March, 1S13.
Madame,
I received yesterday from Cobourg the answer
to your note. M. Major Szymborski informs me
that the duke has not varied his first arrange
ment, viz., that of paying you an annual pension of
one thousand francs ; and that through mere grace
and favour he will take upon himself the education
of a child whom he has never recognised as his
own*. * The better to comprehend all the horrors of this falsehood,
see again the immerous letters in which the duke speaks of
his dear little one, of our sweet angel, &c, &c.

SUPPLEMENT. 253
I regret that it will be absolutely impossible for
me to have any thing further to do with this busi
ness, for it has been signified to me that the duke
does not wish me to interfere in it without his spe
cial orders.
I have the honour to be, with the most distin
guished consideration, Madame, Your most humble.
And most obedient servant,
(Signed) Verlohren.

No. III.
FICHLER TO PAULINE. November, 1813.
Madame,
I am desired to inform you, that business alone
has prevented me from seeing you. I flatter myself
that I shall be happy enough to tell you to-morrow
how much I am,Madame, your faithful servant, Fichler.

254 SUPPLEMENT. No. IV.
HtS SERENE HIGHNESS TO PAULINE.
December, 1813.
My sisters are desirous of seeing the little
Ernest*, but they have only a moment of leisure ;
If you could send him or bring him yourself it
would much oblige me. Let him come through my
bed-chamber door : (ma chambre a chouchez) and
let him be sent immediately.

No. V.
FICHLER TO PAULINE,
December, 1813.
Madame,
I have the honour of giving you notice, that you
will receive a visit from his Imperial Highness the
Grand Duke Constantino, and the Duke of Cobourg,
about six o'clock. I shall say nothing more till I
see you to-morrow, when I shall present you with
the draft of your pension. Your devoted servant,
Fichler.
* An evident stratagem to take away from me my poor child.
He was not the duke's child, said the odious Fichler ; and yet
no scheme was left untried to take him from me. — Al. P.

SUPPLEMENT. 255
No. VI.
PAULINE TO HER MOTHER.
Vienna, X'ith January, 1814,
Oh, my dear mother, what am I to think of your
long silence, and how much anxiety it gives me !
Oh, my dear mother, how many dangers has your
unfortunate daughter escaped ! My dear mother,
I beg of you to remain as yet at Frankfort, for I
presume that I shall not remain long here, where it
is extremely difiicult to find lodging, I have been for
twelve days at an auberge, without having been
able to go out*.
I have some hope that I may get accommodated
with a widow lady, who keeps a boarding house for
young ladies.
I should leave this immediafely to join you, if I
were not prevented by the dreadful cold which now
prevails ; besides we should be obliged to spend six
days and as many nights in the voiture, in going
only as far as Ratisbon. You may suppose that it
would be impossible for me to expose this poor
dear angel to so much fatigue. It is for this reason,
• This letter was written after the shocking affair of the
precipice. — Al. P.

256 SUPPLEMENT.
that I request of you, dear mother, to have the
goodness to wait until the latter end of February,
when I can rejoin you, to be separated from you no
more. My dear mother, nothing but the idea of you and
of my dear angel could enable me to support a life
which has been rendered so burthensome to me.
I again repeat to you, be prudent in your expenses,
and that for a great many reasons which I cannot
explain to you in my letter ; I cannot sufficiently
recommend you to be provident. Alas ! I have been
nearly the victim of these monsters !
Do not let your spirits be depressed, my dear
mother. Would to God that I had never under
taken this frightful journey ! I am safe ; may God
protect us for the future ! I have not received my
pension. Only imagine, when I was in his power,
he told me that he had no money to give me, nor
any order to that effect from the duke. You see,
my dear mother, how I am constantly deceived ;
and to listen to them, it is always I who am in the
wrong. Write to me immediately, for I am full of
anxiety on your account. Adieu, mother ; your
children tenderly embrace you.

SUPPLEMENT. 257
No. VII.
PAULINE TO HER MOTHER.
Vienna, 13th January, 1814,
My dear Mother,
On taking my letter to the post-office, I found
there one from you, which has given me a great
deal of pleasure. Had I no fear of this dreadful
cold which prevails, I should say to you, come, my
dear mother, I have need of your soothing consola
tions ; but I particularly request, and beg of you, in
the most earnest manner, not to take any other
road than that which I am going to point out to
you ; it will be a little more tedious, but that is of no
consequence, when your health is in question. You
will set out from Francfort for Ratisbon, and from
thence proceed to Vienna. I have the strongest
reasons for recommending you to take no other
road ; you will travel by the diligence, it is the surest
way. In the name of God, do as I tell you ; above
all things, take no other road.
I cannot send you any money ; for some time my
pension has not been paid me ; as for the grand letter
of recommendation * which the duke gave me, it is
• See in the Memoirs this odious artifice : this letter of re
commendation was nothing more than a pretext aud a falsehood. Al-P.
S

258 SUPPLEMENT*
worth nothing, I suffer much from the cruel
embarrassments in which I have been placed ; I
know not what to do, nor what is to happen.
When you set out, use every precaution with
regard to your passport ; for they are very parti
cular here. You will alight at thef Roman Emperor;
I will leave there my address ; and then, my dear
mother, we shall arrange as well as we can.
Ernest, our good little angel, is very well at pre
sent. My spirits are depressed to death here ; it
seems to me, that the manners of this city are
very immoral. Adieu, mother ; take great care of
yourself; it is after a frightful experience that I
speak to you ; you cannot be too much on your
guard: do you understand, my dear mother? But
how can you pay your expenses ? Ah ! that I had
money ! 1 should send it to you instantly.
Adieu, mother, I embrace you tenderly.
Say a thousand kind things for me to the good
Abbfe Inquart.
P.S. Do not set out, for I hope to leave this
immediately*. * These letters, the originals of which are in my possession,
are, I think, incontestable proofs ; they show, in the clearest
manner, the young girl without experience, and all the frightful
persons by whom she was surrounded.

SUPPLEMENT. 259
No. VIII.
MADAME LINGIS TO ADELAIDE*.
Augsbourg, \5tli January, 1814.
I am very unhappy, my dear Adelaide, at not
finding you here upon my arrival. You wrote to
me, telling me you would wait for me; I must only
apprehend that some misfortune has occurred to
you, for your letter bore the post-mark of Crai-
selhm ; you would, therefore, have been here long
before me. I should, at least, wish to know if any
thing has happened to you, and whether you have
only taken the road by Ratisbon, instead of passing
through Augsbourg, where I was to find you.
This induces me to write to you at Vienna,
although I am not certain that my letter will reach
you. Will it occur to you to inquire at the post-
office? I have written to Dresden, which place I
left on the 2nd of January, to desire that any let
ters, vyhich you might have addressed to me under
the idea that I was still there, might be forwarded
to me. But, my dear Adelaide, your letter alarmed
* I had written to my sister, requesting she would come to
meet me at Augsbourg, and to give up every thing ; my letter,
intrusted to one of Fichler's servants, was mysterious. — Al, P.
S2

260 SUPPLEMENT.
me so much, that the moment I received it, I gave
up every thing to come to you ; I travelled from
Dresden to this place for one hundred thalers. If
the good God pleased that you should have re
ceived my letter, I have no need to urge you to
write to me immediately ; you cannot believe how
much I am suffering on account of the state of un
certainty in which I am concerning you ; the most
gloomy ideas present themselves to my mind ; I fear
the greatest misfortunes. And what am I to think ?
Ah ! how much I dread the consequences of that
unhappy fall ! it is that, perhaps, which has hin
dered you from continuing your journey. At all
events, I shall remain here until I hear from you,
and until I know positively where I am to find you.

No. IX.
MADEMOISELLE AUBERT TO PAULINE.
Bertinhiem, Sltt January, 1814,
Madame,
I received, in due time, your two agreeable let
ters, which have afforded me much pleasure ; no
accident, I hope, as on your former journey. I trust

SUPPLEMENT. 261
that your present happiness is abundant enough to
compensate you for the sufferings which you expe
rienced in this country. M. and Madame Duguard,
as well as myself, are fully sensible of the grateful
acknowledgments which you have sent us. Our
regret was that we had it not in our power to be of
more service to you ; depend upon it, that it was
not for want of disposition. I conclude, assuring
you of my most distinguished sentiments.
I have the honour to be,
Madame, Your most humble.
And most obedient servant,
AuBERT*.

No. X.
THE DUKE OF COBOURG TO PAULINE.
Oppeinheim, before Mayence, Sth March, 1814,
At last there arrived from you to-day, the first
letter on your side, which informs me where I can
address you ; as you have generally forgotten both
* I met Mademoiselle Aubert, a French young lady, on that
unfortunate journey, during which I had to struggle so often
against poison,— Al. P.

262 SUPPLEMENT.
the date and the place whence you write ; it is dif
ficult to reply to you, this is the reason why all my
letters have been lost, I took chance and sent to
Vienna directing a letter for you to the care of a
banker, but you were not there. It is with a great
deal of pain I find that you are involved in fresh
embarrassments, I am grieved at it, but permit me
to say that it is entirely your own fault, why is it
that you have not written to the persons, who I
told you would pay you your pension *. It appears
to me that your mind has been wandering a good
deal, I lately received a letter from you, which was
sent to me from God knows where, I opened it
and found that it was addressed to me, but that the
letter was for your mother ; I saw from this letter
that your mother was on the road for Vienna, a
thing which I did not know she had done. I know
not what is the cause of this imprudence which com
promises you : but I see you are without money, I
have written to you on this subject. I wrote at the
* See the Memoirs where I have developed all this imposi
tion. Pretended recommendations were given me to persons
who knew nothing of the Duke of Cobourg's affairs, and
which, on the letters being opened, contained nothing but com
mon forms, — Al. P.

SUPPLEMENT. 263
same time to my chargfe d'affaires, the Baron de
Blummenbourg, to whom I had before recom
mended you, both that he might introduce you into
society, and pay you your pension, but as I could
not tell him where you lodged, his inquiries were
probably fruitless *, and my letters have not reached
you. I b^ of you to become more prudent it is
time for you, you cannot believe how much anxiety
your silence has given me you know how much I
value this pledge which I have placed in your
hands, it is all that I shall ask of you, think on
what you have promised me I have written to you
to the care of my charge d'affaires, M. de Blum
menbourg, who should see your pension paid, and
at the same time I have recommended you per
sonally to him. You will easily learn his address
at the post-oflice. But if you see him, do not for
get, that he knows you only under the name of
Madame Alexandre widow of a Saxon captain, to
whom a pension is to be paid he is not informed of
any further detaUs concerning you. I am here
before Mayence charged with the blockade of this
* A long series of falsehoods, artfuUy put together, and in
which the embarrassment of the Prince is perfectly visible.
AlP.

264 SUPPLEMENT.
place, where we are almost dead from the cold and
ennui. I beg of you again to conduct yourself like a
sensible person, if the word respectable be disa
greeable to you, and to take great care of the dear
little one*.

No. XI,
MONSIEUR HAGEN TO PAULINE.
Vienna, id April, 1814.
Madame, There are no obstacles to the continuance of
your stay here, together with your mother and
sister, and I have given orders to that effect. I
hope that you will be able to amuse yourself here,
and that the interior of your household will expe
rience no disturbance.
Accept the assurance of the high consideration
with which I have the honour to be,
Madame,
Your most humble, and most obedient servant,
Hagen, Minister of Policef.
* This letter is remarkable for the bad faith, cunning, and
embarrassment which appear in it. — Al. P.
f By the advice of M. L  , 1 made my complaint to
M. the Baron de Hagen, and this is his answer, — Al. P.

SUPPLEMENT. 265
No. XII.
THE COUNT DE TROGOFF TO PAULINE.
Paris, 30th May, 1814,
I have not answered to your letter, sweet lady,
as soon as I could have wished ; I was desirous to
get some details to send you. I have spoken to
some of the personages * whom you know, and who
ought to feel an interest about you ; their answer
was very cold. The note will be sent to you through
Prince Louis de Rohan, in whom )'ou may confide ;
you will also find him as obliging as he is zealous ;
you will also soon see at Vienna the person on whom
you have claims. Adieu ; if you come to Paris,
depend on my attentions ; they will be as sincere as
they were at Francfort, but perhaps more useful.
The Count de Trogoff.

No. XIII.
THE PRINCE DE LIGNE TO PAULINEf.
Vienna, Zd August, 1814,
Beautiful Pauline, so far as I see ; dear Pauline,
* The Count de Trogoflf had spoken only to the Duke of
Cobourg. — Al. P.
t This old nobleman, as venerable as he was intelligent,
treated me like his daughter; there was no mark of friendship
or of kindness with which he did not endeavour to ameliorate
my situation. — Al. P.

266 SUPPLEMENT.
SO far as I feel ; adorable Pauline, so far as I be
lieve ; send me your letter for Trogoff if you wish.
Although to bid you adieu, even for a few days, is
a melancholy task, I will go to you this morning to
say that painful word ^ but it shall be in the ten
derest manner, as ought to be the case when it is
breathed to the most beautiful woman in the world.
Without the hope almost of meeting you, I went
yesterday evening to the rampart after the ballet.
I think I must tell you once more that I love you.
One of my people sets out to day for Paris.
Ligne.

No. XIV.
THE PRINCE DE LIGNE TO PAULINE.
August 28t7^, 1814.
I came sooner for the fairest of the fair than for
the ballet ; but I returned at ten o'clock. Can I
see the adorable Pauline at nine o'clock in the
morning? Farewell, thou dear creature.
Ligne.

SUPPLEMENT. 267
No. XV.
THE PRINCE DE LIGNE TO PAULINE.
I sealed your letter quickly, dear and adorable
Madame Alexandre !— not dear Pauline, — and it will
go off in a few hours. If you would like to see my
mountain, and him who goes there to think of you,
tell me so ; or mention to the servant who will take
you my note, (his name is Joseph,) when you would
wish for the carriage ; it is an hour's drive to the foot
of the mountain, andif the coachman does not wish to
ascend it, it will take you another half hour. Adieu,
my daughter, my mother, my niece, my everything*.

No. XVI.
THE COUNT DE TROGOFF TO PAULINE.
Paris, August QT, 1814.
Amiable, beautiful, and adorable woman, I have
received your letters ; they have afforded me in-
* This tender friendship on the part of the good Prince de
Ligne, a friendship which lasted till his death, is one of the
sweetest recollections which still console me in the midst of my
tribulations. — Al, P.

268 SUPPLEMENT.
finite pleasure. Your angel guardian * will transmit
this note to you; attend to him, his advice is the
best guide which I could desire for you. I have
directed inquiries to be made concerning your bro
ther ; I shall let you know the results when they
reach me. Write to me, Madame, and detail to
me your plans ; you may depend upon my ardent
friendship and devotedness.
The Count de Trogoff,
Aide-de-camp to his Royal Highness
the Count d'Artois.

No. XVII.
THE PRINCE DE LIGNE TO PAULINE.
Do you know, my dear Pauline, that the duke has
arrived handsomer than ever, and kinder too, which
is better still for you. I am sure of it, he will feel for
your situation as soon as he shall see his little pretty
resemblance. I will complain to him of your
prudery and of Madame Argus, and shall console
myself at the same time by telling him that, even
* The Marechal de Ligne.

SUPPLEMENT. 269
though you have almost a friendship for me, you
treat all your adorers in the same manner, I have
been three days at my mountain ; yesterday all day
at court from nine o'clock in the morning.
Your principles and your staircase prevent me
from going to see you to-day, dear Pauline, for I
am reposing myself from both in my excellent bed.
Tell me where is the residence of M. Bloumen-
bourg ; is not this the name of your Cobourg agent?
I shall pay a visit to this amiable and superb duke,
who must take care of his son, and who seeing his
charming mother more beautiful (and, unfor
tunately for us, more virtuous) than ever, must
secure her happiness for the future. I shall avenge
myself on your principles, and on Madame Argus ;
let her tremble at midnight one of these days.
Farewell, dear and adorable,
Ligne.

No. XVIII.
THE PRINCE DE LIGNE TO PAULINE.
It is fortunate to be an angel by goodness,
beauty, amiability, and, unhappily, by your princi
ples. But the angels live so high that, when we

270 SUPPLEMENT,
have travelled the whole day's journey to the 6th,
7th, or 8th flight, we cannot reach the angels on
the 9th. Angels do not want billets for le paradis ;
but angels give concerts, and do not join them.
Two halves of angels*, who do not possess your
cursed angelical virtue, (which has been only once
discomposed in your life, and that by a duke, an
angel too) have requested billets of me also. I
have done a devilish deal for this sort of angels, and
there has been no more about it.
If I can get them again to-morrow, dear angel, I
shall send them to you. I embrace the little angel,
who is so like the great, good, and handsome angel,
who will be the angel guardian of the angel mother
and the angel child ; and I wish your sister, who
has a pair of eyes diabolically proven9al, better
quarters; so that I may not have so many stairs to
mount; I shall climb up your's to go straight to her
heart ; tell her to tremble. And you, dear Pauline,
in yielding the first rank to the angel who deserves
it, love me in the second :
Ligne.
* The Dujie of Cobourg and Prince Leopold.

SUPPLEMENT. 271
No. XIX.
THE DUKE OF COBOURG TO PAULINE.
I send you the diamond ear-rings, I hope they
will do honour to my taste and please you, by in
ducing you to remember me.

No. XX.

THE COUNTESS DE BILAND TO MADAME
ALEXANDRE.
Madame,
Having observed that your inkstand was rather in
commodious, 1 take the liberty to sendyou one, which,
however humble, will remind you of an occasion
on which you shewed yourself extremely obliging,
and eager to do a kind action ; besides the obligation
which I owe you, I shall be most happy on a simi
lar occasion to have it in my power to prove all my
disposition to serve you. I understand from the
general himself, that his serene highness the Duke
of Cobourg has had the goodness to write to
him in favour of my son ; it would be a satisfac
tion to me, if the duke were informed of all the

272 SUPPLEMENT.
gratitude which I feel towards him, praying him,
at the same time, to strike the iron while it is hot.
To-morrow I shall present my son's letter to Lan
genau ; as use ought to be made of this letter, in
which my son asks to be placed on the staff, it
would be advantageous if a little after the duke
would remind Langenau of the circumstance.
The news from Paris would make one hang
herself. How corrupt that nation is become! it
is pity.
Adieu, my heart. Give my compliments to your
sister, and always love your friend.
Countess Biland.

No. XXI.
THE SAME TO THE SAME,
I must not jest ; I must speak to you seriously ;
the princess* in question has fifty thousand florins a
year, and has her fortune in her own power. If the
prince in question be wise he will not hesitate ; the
* There was some expectation of a marriage between the
Princess of D*** and the Prince of Cobourg. Madame Biland
took a particular interest in it. — Al. P.

SUPPLEMENT. 273
merits of the princess and her angelic goodness are
a greater fortune still ; but the men do not know
how to value the riches of the mind and the heart ;
they look only for pecuniary advantages and a
pretty face. This face is not one of captivating
beauty, but it is an agreeable one ; a countenance
animated by intelligence, and a beauty which gains
on the eye, and never can grow ugly : in a word, if
the prince be governed by reason, he ought to esteem
himself fortunate. This princess is of a reigning
house ; thus, politically even, there is no obstacle.
By the influence of their relatives, their little terri
tory might be extended. It is necessary to speak
to him, and to speak to him seriously ; your welfare
depends on it. Consider if he should marry a
peevish woman, or a woman without mind, what
would become of you ; beasts are to be feared be
cause they lend themselves as instruments to the
wicked. My dear, do not lose sight of Langenau : my
friendship or my hatred depends upon this affair.
Let me see whether you prize the one, or suflBi-
ciently despise the other, to make a jest of it ; but
apply seriously to it, I beg of you. If time be given
to Langenau, nothing will come of it.
T

274 SUPPLEMENT. No. XXIL
THE DUKE OF COBOURG TO PAULINE,
I would have gone to see you to-day, but that 1
am detained at home, partly by the pains in my
loins, which seem determined not to quit me yet,
and partly by pressure of business. I must defer
to another day my answer to your requests. I
shall endeavour to send it as soon as possible.
The Duke.

No. XXIII.
THE BARON DE HAGEN, MINISTER OF POLICE,
TO PAULINE,
Madame, Vienna, \6th Oct. 1814.
I shall be delighted to receive you at my office,
to-morrow the 17th, or Friday the 18th, between
half-past two and four. Accept the assurance of
the high consideration with which I have the ho
nour to be, Madame, Your most humble.
And most obedient servant,
Hagen.

SUPPLEMENT. 275
No, XXIV.
THE DUKE TO PAULINE.
I send you the cards for the ball, although at
bottom I do not wish you to go to it, because it will
do you no good. Business deprives me of the plea
sure of seeing you to-day ; I must defer it till to-
.morrow. Probably I shall follow your advice, and
not go to the masqued ball, that I might not fret
you.

No. XXV.
THE SAME TO THE SAME,
Vienna, ^Sth May, 1814.
Unexpected news oblige me to leave this sooner
than I intended. I am under the necessity of quit
ting Vienna before day-light : it is only then in
these lines, I must take leave of you : I entertain the
sincerest good wishes for your welfare, and that of
your family. I trust that you shall meet with as
few chagrins as possible ; and in order that you
may not meet with them, I beg of you to conduct
yourself with prudence and reason: think on the
slender means which are at your disposal; be a
T 2

27() SUPPLEMENT.
little more economical than your disposition would
lead you to be: in our times this is no diHgnur.
Take good caro of the litllo one ; l<t him In; w<H
instructed, and let him not be spoiled by cxccHHivc
indulgence or impatience. I havcdrHircd M. Bloii-
menbourg to provide such masters for him as lie
may want : do you arrange it with him. 'I'lu; mas
ters which he ought to li.ive should give him three
lessons a day in writing, reading, and accounts in
French, and another to teach him the H.irne lliiiigH
in German. In the; third lesson, ho should hav(!
lessons in religion, and the tlirei; otheiH tniglit b(!
lessons of recreation eitiier in imiHic or dancinj^.
M. de Bloumcnboiirg is innlructed to iii.'i,k(' you (i.
visit once a week, to sec if the lessons are regu
larly given, and if the little one learns well, .ind to
make me a report of it. I confide in your good
sense and your maternal affection ; that you will
omit nothing to comply with my wiHliew.
Adieux, take care of yourself, and may God take
you under his protection*. TiiK Dukr.
» It w;iK irnmiMiialciy iiftcr having riMomrrnndcd (o mi- «o
priidi'iitly ;iri(l so |>iouNly th(t (!iJiii::ilioii of my ooii, lli;il the
priiKi- riidi/ly ili |irivi:il rrjc of iny pcrmion, wlii< h wiiK my only
siil,R)s1rnr(;. — -At. I*.

SUPPLEMENT. 277
No. XXVI.
M. L**** TO MADAME ALEXANDRE.
My dear Lady, Mayence, June \Qth, 1816,
There is, perhaps, some ingratitude in my
manner of leaving my friends of both sexes without
giving them notice ; it is the result of experience ;
I feel the weight lighten on my heart. You will
confess yourself that nothing is more painful than
adieus, particularly when one is going away never
to return. It is to these considerations that you
ought to attribute the constraint of the last visit,
which I had the pleasure of making to your family.
The pain which you yourself experienced is a proof
of the kindness and affection of your heart. I am
not indifferent to it : you are already repaid in
advance by the sincere interest, friendship, and
attachment which I have felt for you, since we
became acquainted.
I am far from refusing that my wife should be
the guardian of the ear-rings*. I am surprised
* Such was the prodigality of his serene highness the Duke
of Cobourg, and such was the compassion with which our situ
ation inspired him, that in order to live, I was obliged to leave
my ear-rings in pledge with M. L»***— Al. P.

278 SUPPLEMENT.
that it should be deemed necessary ; my interference
was useless ; but as you wish it, be it so. I inform
you that I have desired her to give you the one
hundred florins which you wanted. Too happy,
my dear lady, to find this opportunity of assuring
you that I feel great pleasure in obliging so good a
mother as you are. It seems to me that the duke
has not remarked this sufficiently : he is the more
to blame, as he knows you much better than I do,
and that he is under obligations of honour which
he will feel at last, though perhaps not precisely at
the proper time*.
Tell your relatives, I pray you, that lam grateful
for their remembrances, as I am also for your own.
Will you have the goodness to return them my
thanks, and beg of them to accept my sentiments of
esteem, I cordially embrace Ernest ; and for your.
self, you know the devoted affection of
Your most humble
/ and most obedient servant, L****
* He wished that, in order to secure my son's welfare , I
should no longer spare the prince, and that I should take ad
vantage of circumstances and of the congress of sovereigns
assembled at Vienna, in order to avenge myself, and to ruin
him who had ruined mc. — Al. I'.

SUPPLEMENT. 27.9
No. XXVII.
AN INVITATION.
Madame Alexandre is invited to present herself,
on the 25lh of October, at eleven o'clock in the
morning, at the palace of the general direction of
police, and to have herself announced to the under
signed. Noble* de Hoffen,
Vienna, 23rf Oct. 1816. Imperial Councillor.

No. XXVIII.
COUNT DE CARAMAN'S BILLET.
The Count de Caraman informs Madame Alex
andre that he cannot interfere in any of her con
cerns, and he requests that she will not give herself
the trouble of soliciting his interest or of speaking
to him of her affairs t-
* This imperial councillor, who, having been recently en
nobled, has added to his family name the fine epithet Nohle
ii£, summourd me to the police, to force me to give up my
child to the iluke's ngriits — Al. P.
t The Count de Caramnii, ;ifter having' protected me, aban
doned mc to the fury of my enemies. He had pitied me, and
said to me, " Madame Alexandre, the enemies with whom you
have to do arc a great deal too cruel and too powerful. I am
not in a si(ii;i<ioii to do any thing for you." He had the good
ness to assist mo with his purse, and had iioi \he courage to
defend one of his conntrvwomen. — Ai . 1'.

280 SUPPLEMENT. No. XXIX.
LETTER FROM DIEFFENBACH.
Vienna, 22d August, 1817.
The agent, Dieffenbach, has paid every thing
which Madame Alexandre owed at Janny's ; the
receipts are in his hands, but he is obliged to con
vince her of it, that the high embassy of France
accords to her its protection. He will have the
honour to pay his respects to Madame Alexandre
this day, in order to concert with her such further
measures as she would wish to adopt in this
matter.
Dieffenbach.

No. XXX.
COUNT DE METTERNICH TO PAULINE*.
It is impossible fpr me to defer any longer the
transmission of some decision to the Duke of
Cobourg upon the affair which interests him. My
delicacy itself prescribes a law to me ; I must know
then what it is you wish, and what I am to do.
* See in the Illustrations, the origin, progress, and result, of
my interviews with M. de Metternich,

SUPPLEMENT. 281
Will you be so good as to give me, between this
time and to-morrow, a positive answer as to what
you mean to do. If you accept the propositions
which have been made to you, you will have to sign
the contract ; if you are determined not to accept
them, and to sacrifice the welfare of your child,
you are your own mistress. My interference can
not take place unless the arrangement be honour
able and conformable to reason : that is to say, I
will not take a negative determination. I shall
look upon my interference as terminated.
I request you will let me know your final decision
to-morrow, before six o'clock in the evening, that
I may be able to write to the duke by the same
day's post. (Signed) Metternich.
oth May, 1818.
No. XXXI.
JAVON* TO MADAME ALEXANDRE.
26tA December, 1819.
You have already agreed, Madame, in our inter
view of the 24th of this month , in presence of your
* An agent d'affaires to the Court of Cobourg at Paris. He
has always maintained his master's interests with a meanness
and cunning, little worthy of those who give him their confi
dence. — Al. p.

282 SUPPLEMENT.
sister, to give me another meeting, at which you
would be accompanied by a counsel, to consult with
another whom I am to bring, upon the instruments
of which you have spoken, and upon those which
I have received from Germany.
I request that this meeting may take place to
morrow, between one and two o'clock ; otherwise I
shall be obliged, perhaps, to postpone it to Monday
the 3rd of January.
If you have not yet selected your counsel, we
may nevertheless have the first conference to
morrow. If the porter who takes my letter does
not find you at home, I shall be obliged to you to
let me have an answer, that I may not remain in
suspense. I am, Madame, your servant,
Javon.

No. XXXII.
THE SAME TO THE SAME.
Paris, ^Qth December, 1819.
I have already informed you, Madame, by my
letter of the 26th, that if the meeting could not
take place the following day, I should be obliged to

SUPPLEMENT. 283
postpone it to Monday. I cannot attend at that
which you have proposed for this day in your an
swer of yesterday. My letter was sent by my ser
vant to Madame Lingis, who was requested to
transmit it to you the same day.
Besides the meeting can take place no where but
in my house, because, according to my instructions,
I must have with me a counsel who resides with
me, and who never goes out.
I repeat to you my offer to receive you on Mon
day, between one and two, in presence of Madame
Lingis, or any other person whom you may think
proper to select. I am, Madame, your servant,
Javon.

No. XXXIIl
M. .JAVON TO COUNT DE TROGOFF.
Paris, 30th March, 1820.
Monsieur le Comte,
I have had the honour of informing you,
by my letter of the 13th, of the motives which pre
vent me from taking any thing upon myself in the
matter of Madame Alexandre, and which oblige

284 SUPPLEMENT.
me to wait an answer from Cobourg. My letter,
addressed to Colonel Szymbroski, is of the 10th,
If it were intended to authorize me to make a pro
visional advance in any respect whatever, I should
have received instructions to that effect three days
ago. The delay induces me to believe, Sir, that
the refusal of Madame Alexandre to subscribe to
the condition* contained in the letter which I have
mentioned, occasioned an obstacle which does not
depend upon me.
The time necessary for receiving an answer,
which would have already arrived, particularly if
favourable, having elapsed, I must limit myself
strictly to this reply. The tone and menaces of
Madame Alexandre, in the last conference, oblige
me to act with the greatest prudence.
I am, with the highest consideration.
Monsieur le Comte,
Your most humble and most
obedient servant,
Javon.
* 1 beg the reader to remember, that the only condition,
alluded to in this letter and the following ones, was the sur
render of my child to the hands of his enemies — Al. P.

SUPPLEMENT. 285
No. XXXIV.
M. JAVON TO MADAME ALEXANDRE.
Madame, Paris, gth May. 1820.
I beg of you to get me, between this time and
three o'clock to-morrow, if possible, first, the copy
of the memorial which you mentioned yesterday
and which you said has been made out some time ;
secondly, the account of what you received at
Vienna, and of the arrangement which you said
was signed in that city, and which secured to you
20,000 francs, payable at stipulated periods over
and above your pension ; and lastly, the account
relative to the property sold by your family*.
We wish to examine into all these facts imme
diately, in order to see if it would be necessary to
mention them in the next letters.
I have the honour to salute you, Javon.
* In order to relieve our necessities, we were obliged to sell
this property' which was situated near Marseilles. — Al. P.

2.Sf) SUPPLEMENT No. XXXV.
THE SAME TO THE SAME.
Paris, Wth August, 1820.
Madame, M. Sauvage has communicated to me the con
versation which he had with you on Thursday last ;
you assured him, he teUs me, that in three or four
days there would be another insertion in the jour
nals. I would beg to represent to you, that by acting
so precipitately, you will irrecoverably lose all the
advantages of a reasonable arrangement.
After the claims which you made in a former
conference, I wrote, without delay, to Germany, and
to England, in order to get exact instructions.
From one quarter, there has only arrived a pro
visional and inadequate answer, which was to be
followed by another ; from the other quarter, I have
received no answer as yet. In consequence, I can
do nothing in the mean time, except propose again
the mediation of the Duke de Richelieu, as we
agreed on the 4th of this month.
If you accept this proposition, for which I am
completely authorized, and which, under all the
circumstances, ought to be agreed to ; then, the

SUPPLEMENT. 287
on!y thing that will remain to be done, is to enter
into an understanding for mutually giving up the
papers. If, on the contrary, you persist in making
them public, using the rights which you believe
you possess, you will soon, if you feel any interest
for yourself and your son, learn how to appreciate
the advice which was given you by persons of good
sense, and who, you have frequently said, possessed
your entire confidence.
Be assured that if from one instant to another I
shall receive instructions to remit you any sum
without conditions, as you have requested, I shall
not lose a moment in forwarding it to you.
I trust, Madame, that you will reflect coolly on the
subject; but, at the same time, I expressly give
you notice, according to the instructions which are
in my hands, that, if the least symptom of hostility
evince itself on your part, you may look upon the
negotiation as broken off, and may consider the
generous offers* of those for whom I act as revoked
for ever, by your conduct and by the incompre
hensible change which has taken place in your
* Generous! wh.it generosity belonged to such persons,
wlio wished to bargain for my son, and who offered me bread
if I would consent to give them up my blood ?— Al. P.

288

SUPPLEMENT.

intentions between the Ist of this month, when
you received from me six hundred francs, and gave
me a verbal promise that you would submit yourself
to the proposed arbitration, and the 4th, when you
developed very different ideas, and when I was
prepared to make you a fresh advance.
I beg of you, Madame, to receive the assurance
of the high consideration with which I am.
Your most humble servant, Javon.
At the request of M, Javon, I confirm what
he says relative to the present declaration, which
has arisen from the proceedings in which I acted
for him during his illness with the persons
referred to. (Signed) Sauvage,

No. XXXVI.
THE COMPROMISE,
Paris, August 9.b, 1820.

The undersigned
M. Javon, councillor of legation, charge, d'af
faires for his highness the reigning Duke of Saxe-

SUPPLEMENT, 289
Cobourg, being commissioned and empowered to
the effect which follows :
On one part.
And Madame Adelaide Henriette Alexandre, of
full age, residing in Paris, rue Chanterraine,
No, 44, On the other part.
Have agreed to what follows :
In order to remove the difficulties which exist
between his highness and Madame Alexandre, and
to settle definitively the claims which that lady has
made, M. Javon and Madame Alexandre request
the Duke de Richelieu to have the goodness to be
the sovereign arbitrator between them, they mu
tually declaring upon their honour, to submit to
his decision, without further appeal, and without
its being necessary to fulfil any formality of de
posit, or of ordonnance, of exequatur, or any
other, under the penalty, on Madame Alexandre's
part, that she will renounce all her rights and
claims whatever they, may be, and on M. Javon's
part, that he will pay her a sum of twelve thousand
francs by way of indemnity, either for the non-
execution of these presents, or for any delay
which may take place in executing them ; and it
u

290 SUPPLEMENT.
being clearly understood that, in the case of their
non-execution, which has just been set forth, she
will reserve all her rights and claims to dispose of
them as to her shall seem meet.
M. Javon and Madame Alexandre will submit
without delay to the Duke de Richelieu, all the
instruments and papers which may afford him
information upon this subject.
In case the Duke de Richelieu should not find
it expedient to take it upon himself to make a
decision, he is equally requested to name some
person, whose decision is hereby declared to be as
valid as his own, and under the same conditions.
It is further agreed that, until this decision shall
be had, whether it emanates from the Duke de
Richelieu or any person whom he should name,
Madame Alexandre will cause no insertion to be
made in the journals, or any public papers ; and that
she will not cause any memoirs to be printed or
published, under the penalty of forfeiting all the
costs, losses, and interests. Nevertheless, if no
decision be made within one month from this day,
the parties will resume all their rights, to exercise
them as they may think fit.
Done in duplicate at Paris, August 26, 1820.

SUPPLEMENT. 291
Approved of the above instrument as good for
articles of arbitration *.
(Signed) Javon.
(Signed) A. H. Alexandre,
* I signed this deed, pressed by the most frightful situation
in which a mother could find herself. A hundred louis were
promised me on the condition that I would accept this arbitra
tion. They were placed on the table. Scarcely was my
signature written, when, by an incredible act of bad faith,
Javon took away the money, and openly mocked me for the
fecility with which I gave my name under the pledge that was
held out to me, I was indignant : I broke out into reproaches,
and insisted that they should return me the paper which they
prevailed upon me by a stratagem to sign. The scene lasted
from nine o'clock in the morning till four in the afternoon, I
applaud myself for the firmness with which I persisted, and
threatened M, Javon to seek from the legal authorities for
relief against such a perfidious and atrocious scheme. He was
alarmed ; he sent for his lawyer, M. Colbert, and had a long
and private interview with him. The result of this interview
and of my firmness was the payment of the sum which had
been so solemnly promised, but which, according to their idea,
was to serve as a bait to get my child into their hands. — Al. P

292 supplement. No. XXXVII.
NOTE FROM THE DUKE DE RICHELIEU.
1st September, 1820,
The Duke de Richelieu requests that Madame
Alexandre will come to his house to-morrow, be
tween eleven o'clock and noon *.

No. XXXVIIl.
M. DE BLAIRE t TO MADAME ALEXANDRE.
Monday Morning, llth September, 1820.
Madame Alexandre should have brought her
papers yesterday at two o'clock to M. de Blaire, as
she had agreed with him last Tuesday to do ; M. de
Blaire waited for her in vain, — she never came ;
he will receive her this day at the same hour, if
she will take the trouble to come to him ; it is for
her interest to furnish her grounds of defence, if
she does not wish to be judged without being
heard I . If her papers be in the hands of her coun-
* The Duke de Richelieu was, as is evident from the pre
ceding instrument, the arbitrator chosen by his serene high
ness. — Al. p.
t Desired by the Duke de Richelieu to get me to give up
all my papers, — Al, P.
% This adroit scheme, for getting a sight of my title-deeds.

SUPPLEMENT. 293

sel, and if their absence prevents her from produ
cing them, it is for her interest to demand and ob
tain them without delay.
De Blairb.

No, XXXIX.
THE SAME TO THE SAME.
Saturday Morning, l6th September, 1820,
Madame Alexandre has not yet sent her papers*,
nor has she sent any letter to request a delay of fif
teen days, three weeks, or a month, or in a word,
any time which she could fix upon with certainty
for having her papers ready, and yet the time fixed
by the deed of arbitration will expire on the 24th
of this month. If the decision be given, it will
then be too late to ask for delay.
M. de Blaire will arrive in Paris on Monday
morning ; he will be at his house from half past
was, in spite of the ability with which it was conducted, too
manifest. — Al. P.
* Thus the reader may see with what persevering activity
that only object of the court of Cobourg was pursued, viz, the
surrender of my title deeds, I was not left a moment in quiet,
I keep them still ; and it will be in vain that they shall ever be
demanded from me, — Al. P.

>tl4 SUPPLEMENT.
two o'clock until four, when Madame Alexandre
can bring him her papers, or a letter for the Duke
de Richelieu. He will have the honour of receiving
her.
De Blaire

No. XL.

I HE DUKE DE RICHELIEU TO MADAME
ALEX.\NDRE*.
Paris, 9th March, 1821.
I have received, Madame, the two letters which
you have written to me, describing the melancholy
situation in which you are placed ; I communicated
them to M. Javon, that he might see what could
be done under the circumstances.
M. Javon, in answer to me, says, that he can
only remind me that it depends on yourself to
escape from this deplorable situation ; that by giv
ing up your son, he will be under the protection of
* Ernest was on the bed of death. I sent to inform the
Duke de Richelieu of my frightful situation, transmitting to
him at the same time the certificate of the physician. He wrote
me the above answer. It is to M. Lagueau alone, it is to his
active humanity that I owe the preservation of my dear and
'infortunate son's life. — Al. P.

SUPPLEMENT. 295
the prince, and will enjoy an advantageous station,
and that you will also receive the pension which
has been offered you .
I enclose the receipts of the Mont-de-piet6
which you sent to me.
Receive, Madame, the assurance of my perfect
consideration. (Signed) Richelieu.

No. XU.
il. JAVON TO M. DE LA VILLE.
Paris, ISthJiily, 1821.
I have received. Sir, your letters of the I2th and
17th of this month, and the case added to each, re
lative to Madame Alexandre Belmont. My occu
pations in the country, as well in my own personal
affairs as in the functions of Mayor*, (which I have
accepted very recently, in consequence of an inter-
* I need not remark to the reader upon the majestic dignity
which characterizes the commencement of this epistle from
the newly-elected mayor, and I shall pass over the ludicrous
air which Pontoise and Seine-et-Oise give to this affair. The
only object of this letter, after all, w as to ofi'er me the moderate
sum of three hundred francs, w hich never was paid, — Al. P.

296 SUPPLEMENT.
view with the Prefect of the Seine-et-Oise, and the
Sub-Prefect of Pontoise) in my commune, hindered
me from answering the first, and from thus sparing
you the trouble of sending me the second, 8(c. 8{c.

No. XLII.
THE CHEVALIER DE LA VILLE, .SECRETARY
TO THE DUKE DE RICHELIEU, TO MADAME
ALEXANDRE, July 10, 1 82 1.
At the very moment your letter arrived, Madame,
the Duke de Richelieu received M, Javon's answer,
which I hasten to communicate to you.
M. Javon says, that since the interference of
the Duke de Richelieu, of M. de Vincent, the Aus
trian ambassador, and of M. de Blaire, has been
ineffectual, he has resolved to have nothing more
to do in the affair. That, nevertheless, as your
son is ill, he is disposed to place in the hands
of any person whom the Duke de Richelieu shall
point out, a sum of three hundred francs * out of
* Which was never paid us. As 1 have just said, Ernest
rt-as dying. M. Lagneau signed a certificate attesting the
dangerous nature Of his malady: all human assistance was
refused him. — Al. P.

SUPPLEMENT. 297
his own pocket, to be paid to the physician, and to
those who shall have made any advances in conse
quence of his illness.

No. XLIII,
TO MESSRS, H. HAMETZ & CO. VIENNA.
Frankfort on the Maine, .X'itk Dec. 1813.
We take the liberty to recommend to you, Ma
dame Alexandre, the bearer of this, and we request
of you to let her have the trunk which we shall send
by the first opportunity. We will give you further
details in our next. Confer upon us this favour,
and depend upon the attention and perfect consi
deration of the undersigned,
Gebhard and Hauk.

No, XLIV.
THE CHEVALIER DE LA VILLE TO MADAME
ALEXANDRE.
However much inclined I am, Madame, to do you
service, I do not see at this moment how I can extri
cate you from your embarrassment. I have sent your

298 supplement.
physician's memorandum to M. Javon, and it is
possible that he may pay him himself; at least j
have not heard from him. You can learn how it
stands from the physician. You will please to ob
serve further, that M. Javon having promised the
three hundred francs, upon the condition that the
person pointed out by the duke should pay the bills
both of the physician and the apothecary, as far as
this sum would go, I cannot, if he sends it to me,
dispose of it, except to pay those who have at
tended your son, or have furnished him with ne
cessaries. Receive, I beg of you, Madame, the assurance of
my sentiments.
Le Chev, de la Ville,

No. XLV.
THE SAME TO THE SAME.
Will you have the goodness Madame, to send to the
duke the accompts amounting to this sum, if you
accept Mr. Javon's proposition, and we shall send
to him for the three hundred francs which he offered
to pay. Receive, 8(c.,
Le Chev, de la Ville.

SUPPLEMENT. 299
No, XLVI,
THE SAME TO THE SAME.
I have just received, Madame, the subjoined an
swer to the two letters which I wrote to M, Javon
concerning your affairs. You will see, that while
he repeats his consent to pay three hundred francs
for the expenses of your son's illness, he finds that
the greater part of the articles in the accompts
cannot have belonged to that sickness. As to the
other observations contained in his letter, as I have
no right to interfere in the matter, I abstain from
all reflection upon the subject*. Receive, i^c,
De la Ville.

No. XLVII.
MADAME ALEXANDRE TO THE DUKE OF
COBOURG.
I owe to you all the misfortunes of my life ; after
having reduced me to dishonour, you have given me
* Thus from negotiation to negotiation, from aSair to affair,
the time passed away, and I and my son languished in con
tinual wretchedness, — Al. P.

300 SUPPLEMENT.
up to misery. If I alone were the victim of such
a cruel abandonment, I would die in silence, and
I would leave it to the justice of Heaven to punish
you ; but I have a son, who demands from me an
account of the existence which he has received from
you, and of the misfortunes which you have poured
upon his days. It is with me a sacred duty to sa
crifice my life to him, and nothing shall ever dis
pense me from fulfilling it.
After having exhausted every means for securing
a subsistence to your child, I fly now to that only
resource which yoii have loft mc, that of pub
lishing my Memoirs. They are finished, and ready
to be sent to the press ; and they are drawn up in
such a manner as to direct the eye of all Europe
upon you and upon me. I am sure of meeting
with indulgence from public opinion, for a fault
excused by the age at which it was committed, and
which I have expiated by unparalh'lcd misfor
tunes. Prince, you will meet with a more severe
judgment. The seduction of a young girl, the
dishonour of a woman, who never had any fault in
your eyes but her love and her confidence, the
abandonment of your child 
 are crimes which the public will

SUPPLEMENT. 301
never pardon, even to princes. Before I give these
Memoirs to be printed, for the publication of
which several booksellers have already made me
considerable offers, and to which I have added
your letters, those of your agents, and of the prin
cess your mother, as guarantees, I wished to send
you this last notice. The manuscript is placed in
the hands of M , Damaison, king's notary in Paris.
You can, if you deem it expedient, see them in the
house of this public officer, in whose hands I have
also deposited all the original documents. Your
answer, or your silence, prolonged beyond one
month, will decide the part which I shall take.
I am, with respect.
My Lord,
Your serene highness's most humble
and most unfortunate servant.

No. XLVIII.
THE BARON DE MOHRENHEIM TO MADAME
ALEXANDRE,
His imperial highness, the Grand Duke Con"
stantine, is in possession, Madame, of the letter

302 SUPPLEMENT.
which you wrote to him, dated Paris, 20th Septem
ber, 1821. It is by his orders that I have the ho.
nour to reply to yqu, that his imperial highness
who has taken a great interest in your circum
stances, perfectly remembers the wish which he
expressed to be one day useful to your son, and he
does not retract the assurance which he gave you.
As the ties of relationship which united him to the
reigning family of Saxe-Cobourg are now entirely
broken, there remain for him no means to inter
fere for you through his relationship with the
Duke Ernest, nor with any of the members of his
family*. His imperial highness, in consequence of the
sentiments which he manifested for you, and with
which your circumstances inspired him, advises
you, Madame, not to publish any work which, if it
contains the revelation of any severe injuries,
would be a reason for condemning her who, urged
on by motives of vengeance, or any other cause,
could go so far as to despise those obligations of
attachment, indulgence, and esteem, which are
* It may be remarked how fully these letters support the
facts contained in my Memoirs.. — Al. P.

3 9002