r of
the Calsabigi with whom I had founded the lottery in Paris in 1757. He
had left Paris and his wife too, and had set up a lottery in Brussels;
but his extravagance was so great that he became a bankrupt in spite of
the efforts of Count Cobenzl to keep him going. He fled from Brussels to
Berlin, and was introduced to the King of Prussia. He was a plausible
speaker, and persuaded the monarch to establish a lottery, to make him
the manager, and to give him the title of Counsellor of State. He
promised that the lottery should bring in an annual revenue of at least
two hundred thousand crowns, and only asked a percentage of ten per cent.
for himself.

The lottery had been going for two years, and had had a great success, as
hitherto it had had no large losses; but the king, who knew that the luck
might turn, was always in a fidget about it. With this idea he told
Calsabigi that he must carry it on on his own responsibility and pay him
a hundred thousand crowns per annum, that being the cost of his Italian
Theatre.

I happened to call on Calsabigi on the very day on which the king
intimated to him this decision. After talking over our old relationship
and the vicissitudes we had both experienced, he told me what had
happened; it seemed an unexpected blow to him. The next drawing, he said,
would be at the king's risk; but the public would have to be informed
that in future the lottery would be a private one. He wanted capital to
the amount of two million crowns, for he foresaw that otherwise the
lottery would collapse, as people would not risk their money without the
certainty of being paid in the event of their winning. He said he would
guarantee me an income of ten thousand crowns per annum if I succeeded in
making the king change his mind, and by way of encouragement he recalled
to my mind the effect of my persuasive powers at Paris seven years
before.

"'Tis a good omen," said he, "and without any superstition I believe that
the good genius of the lottery has brought me to Berlin just now."

I laughed at his illusions, but I pitied him. I shewed him the
impossibility of convincing an individual whose only argument was, "I am
afraid, and I don't wish to be afraid any longer." He begged me to stay
to dinner and introduced me to his wife. This was a double surprise for
me, in the first place because I thought General La Motte, as his first
wife was called, to be still living, and in the second place because I
recogni