worth his pay): On the subject of his Excellency, Count Redern, Chamberlain of the King of Prussia, who has been, in all my negotiations with the Court, courtesy and kindness itself, to the stage and my fragile person (ma maigrelette personne) most useful; but there is not a word of truth in the statement that he has arranged my future engagement at St. Petersburg. Attrape, petit Talleyrand!
Now, then, for the plain, unvarnished tale as it really took place. How much will you pay me the column or the line? On the 8th July I gave my first representation of Les Horaces at the new palace of Potsdam mentioned above. A sumptuous repast had been prepared for me on my arrival at the palace, and, thinking to show honour to my artistic majesty, they had laid for me and my special attendants a separate table, while my confidants, pages, and lower order of traitors and heroes, were to sup in another room with another menu. I remonstrated loudly, and, I am told, in eloquent terms, declaring that a good general, on the eve of a great battle, ought to mess with his soldiers, as the representation was to take place late in the evening. As soon as I had dined, a royal carriage was placed at the disposal of little Rachel, who certainly was treated with royal honours, and His Majesty's reader accompanied me in a charming excursion round the magnificent Château of Sans Souci (happy château!).
She goes on to relate the successes of the evening, the compliments of the Empress of Russia and the King of Prussia, who, approaching, stammered in bad French, "Vraiment, Mademoiselle, je suis tout bouleversé par votre faute!" "I answered little civilities, that came much more easily to me than formerly with the Queen of England. While I was talking with her, I could not help thinking of the fogs of her river Thames."
Describing a fête champêtre, attended only by the royal families of Russia and Prussia, she says:—"It took place in the open air, on the charming Island of Peacocks, surrounded by a pretty miniature river, actually boasting a name—Havel, if I remember accurately—which forms a playground for troops of swans, white as swans proverbially are."
