the Crimea; those palaces,
those wooden villages built all along the route, as if by a magic
wand, that huge forest going up in flames by way of fireworks for Her
Majesty--the whole journey, in fact, was a fantastic affair. His
niece, Countess Skavronska, said to me in Vienna, "Had my uncle known
you, he would have loaded you with distinctions and riches." Certain
it is that at every opportunity this famous man was generous to
prodigality and luxurious to madness. All his tastes were extravagant,
all his habits royal, so much so that, although he possessed a fortune
exceeding that of some sovereigns, the Prince de Ligne told me that he
had known him to be without money.

Favour and power had accustomed Prince Potemkin to satisfy his
slightest desires. Here is an example which proves the point. One day,
when the talk ran on the size of one of his adjutants, he declared
that a certain officer in the Russian army--whom he named--was taller
still. After every one who knew the officer in question had
contradicted Potemkin, he forthwith sent off a messenger with an order
to bring back with him this officer, who was then eight hundred miles
away. Upon hearing that he had been sent for by the Prince, his joy
was unbounded, since he believed that he had been promoted to a higher
rank. His disappointment may therefore be imagined when, on his
arrival in camp, he was informed that he was to be measured with
Potemkin's adjutant, and that he must then return without any other
reward than the fatigue of the long journey.

The man whom a long period of favour had, so to say, accustomed to
reign beside the sovereign was unable to survive the thought of
disgrace. Catherine II. sent to Prince Repnin her orders to treat for
peace, to which Potemkin was strongly opposed. Angry as possible, he
set out upon the instant in the hope of preventing the signature, but
only to learn at Yassy that peace was concluded. This news was fatal
to him. Already indisposed, he now fell mortally ill, which did not
hinder him from at once beginning the return journey to St.
Petersburg. But in a few hours his ailment grew so serious that it
became out of the question for him to support the movement of a
carriage. He was laid out in a meadow and covered with his cloak, and
there Potemkin breathed his last sigh, on the 15th of October, 1791,
in the arms of Countess Branicka, his niece. Plato Zouboff, a young
lieutenant of the guard, succeeded Potemkin in the