"I fancy you are about to speak of _him_" said the princess, moving the
lights, to get a better view of the speaker, and placing her elbows on
the table.
"While going down the Moldau, on the Bavarian frontier, we were seized
by the recruiting parties of the king, your brother, and were flattered
with the smiling hope of becoming, both Haydn and myself, fifer and
drummer in the glorious armies of his Majesty."
"You, a drummer!" said the princess with surprise. "Ah! had Von Kleist
seen you thus I venture to swear she would have lost her senses. My
brother would have made you his page; and heaven knows what ravage you
would have made in the hearts of our Court ladies. But what is it you
say of Haydn? I know the name, and have recently received music of his,
and, I remember, excellent music. He is not the lad you speak of?"
"Excuse me. He is about twenty years old, and does not seem fifteen. He
was my travelling companion, and was a sincere and faithful friend. On
the edge of a little wood, where our captors halted to breakfast, we
escaped. They pursued us, and we ran like hares, until we had the good
fortune to overtake a travelling carriage, in which was the handsome and
noble Frederick Von Trenck and the _ci-devant_ conqueror, Count Hoditz
de Roswald."
"The husband of my aunt, the Margravine of Culmbach?" said the princess.
"Another love match, Von Kleist. By the by, that is the only honest and
prudent thing my aunt ever did in her life. What kind of a man is this
Count Hoditz?"
Consuelo was about to give a minute account of the lord of Roswald, but
the princess interrupted her by countless questions about Trenck, the
dress he wore, and the minutest details. When Consuelo told her how
Trenck had hurried to her defence, how he came near being shot, and had
put the brigands to flight, and rescued an unfortunate deserter who was
borne in the wagon with his hands and feet bound, she had to begin again
to repeat the most trifling words and detail the merest circumstances.
The joy and emotion of the princess were intense when she heard that
Trenck and Count Hoditz, having taken the two travellers into their
coach, the baron had taken no notice of Consuelo, but seemed wrapped in
the examination of a portrait he concealed in his bosom--that he sighed,
and talked to the count of a mysterious love for an exalted person, who
was the origin of the happiness and despair of his life.
When Consuelo was permitted to continue, she said that Count Hoditz,
having discovered her sex at Passau, sought to presume on the protection
he had granted her, and that she had fled with Haydn and resumed her
adventurous travels in a boat which went down the Danube.
At last she told how, playing on the pipe, while Haydn played the
violin, they paid for their dinners by making music for the peasants to
dance, and at length reached a pleasant priory still disguised, and
represented herself as a wandering musician, a Zingara, called Bertoni.
"The prior," said she, "was passionately fond of music, and was besides
a man of heart and mind. He conceived for us, for myself especially, a
great friendship, and wished even to adopt me, promising me an excellent
benefice, if I would but take the minor orders. I began to be tired of
manhood, and the _tonsure_ was no more to my taste than the drum. A
strange adventure forced me to prolong my abode with my excellent host.
A woman travelling by post, was seized with the pains of labor, and gave
birth to a daughter, which she abandoned and I persuaded the good canon
to adopt it in my place. She was called Angela, from her father's name
Anzoleto, and the mother, Corilla, went to Vienna to procure an
engagement at the Court Theatre. She did so, and with greater success
than I had. The Prince Von Kaunitz presented her to the Empress Maria
Theresa as a respectable widow, and I was rejected, as being accused and
suspected of being the mistress of Joseph Haydn, who received lessons
from Porpora, and lived in the same house with us."
Consuelo described her interview with the great Empress. The princess
was anxious to hear of this wonderful woman, the virtue of whom no one
at Berlin believed in, and who was said to have as lovers the Prince Von
Kaunitz, Doctor Von Switzer and Metastasio.
Consuelo told at length of her reconciliation on account of Angela, with
La Corilla, of her _début_ in the principal parts at the Imperial
Theatre, on account of the remorse and a generous impulse of her
impetuous rival. She then told of the friendship that existed at Vienna
between Trenck and herself at the abode of the Ambassador of Venice; and
told how she had arranged a method of communicating with him, if the
persecution of the King of Prussia made it necessary. She spoke of the
piece of music, the sheets of which were to serve as a wrapper and
signature to the letters he might send her, as occasion required, for
her whom he loved: and told how she had recently been informed, by one
of the sheets, of the importance of the cabalistic scroll she had given
to the princess. It may be imagined these explanations occupied more
time than the rest of the story.
Porporina having told of her departure with the maestro from Venice, and
how, in the uniform of a company, and as the Baron Von Kreutz, she had
met the King of Prussia at the wonderful Castle of Roswald, she was
obliged also to mention the important service she had rendered the
monarch before she knew him.
"That I was very curious to know," said the Baroness Von Kleist.
"Poelnitz, who loves to talk, told me that his majesty at supper said
that his friendship for the beautiful Porporina had more serious causes
than a mere love affair."
"What I did was very simple. I used the ascendancy I had over an
unfortunate fanatic to keep him from murdering the king. Karl, the poor
Bohemian giant, whom Trenck had rescued from the recruiting party when
he liberated me, had entered the service of Count Hoditz. He had known
the king, and wished to be revenged for the death of his wife and child,
who died of want and sorrow, just after his second arrest. Fortunately,
he had not forgotten that I had been a party to his rescue, and had
contributed something to his wife's assistance. He let me persuade and
take the gun from him. The king, who was concealed hard by, as he
afterwards told me, heard all, and, lest the assassin should have a
return of fury, took a different road from the one he had intended. The
king was on horseback, with no one but Bruddenbrock. It is, then, very
possible that a good shot like Karl, whom I had thrice seen shoot a
pigeon from the top of a mast, during the entertainment given by Count
Hoditz, would not have missed."
"God knows," said the princess in a dreamy manner, "what changes this
misfortune would have effected in European politics, and in individual
destinies. Now, dear Rudolstadt, I think I know the rest of your story,
until the death of Count Albert. At Prague you met his uncle, the baron,
who took you to the Giant's Castle, to see him die of phthisis, and to
marry him just before he breathed his last. You had not made up your
mind to love him?"
"Alas! madame, I loved him too late, and have been cruelly punished for
hesitation, and passion for the stage. Forced by my master, Porpora, to
appear at Vienna, deceived in relation to Albert's indisposition, for
his last letters had been intercepted, I suffered myself to be led
astray by the glitter of the stage; and, in conclusion, while waiting
for an engagement at Berlin, appeared with perfect madness at Vienna."
"And with glory" said the princess. "We know that."
"Miserable and fatal glory," said Consuelo. "One thing your highness
does not know; it is that Albert came secretly to Vienna and saw me
play. Following every step like a mysterious shadow, he heard me say,
behind the scenes to Joseph Haydn, that I could not abandon my art
without serious regret, yet I loved Albert. I swear before God, that
within my heart, I knew that it was more impossible to renounce him than
my profession, and wrote to him to say so. Porpora, who looked on this
love as a chimera and madness, had intercepted and burned my letters. I
found Albert in a rapid consumption; I gave him my hand, but could not
restore him to life. I saw him lying in state, clad as a noble of yore,
beautiful in the embrace of death, with his brow pure as that of the
pardoning angel--but I could not follow him to the grave. I left him in
the lighted chapel of the Giants' Castle, watched over by Zdenko, the
poor mad prophet, who gave me his hand with a smile, and rejoiced at the
tranquil slumber of his friend. He, at least, more pious and respectful
than I, placed him in the tomb of his fathers, without being aware that
he would never again leave that bed of repose. I was hurried away by
Porpora, a devoted, yet stern friend, with a paternal yet inflexible
heart, who shouted to me over the very tomb of my husband--'On Saturday
next, you will make your _début_ in _Les Virtuoses Ridicules._'"
"Strange, indeed, are the vicissitudes of an artist's life," said the
princess, wiping away a tear. Porporina, as she concluded her story,
sobbed aloud. "You do not tell me, my dear Consuelo, the greatest honor
of your life, and which, when Supperville mentioned, filled me with
admiration. Not to distress the old canoness, and not to forfeit your
romantic disinterestedness, you abandoned your title, your dower, and
your name. You requested Supperville and Porpora, the only witnesses of
your marriage, to keep it a secret, and came hither poor as before, and
remained a Zingarella."
"And an artiste," said Consuelo, "that is to say independent, virgin and
dead to all sentiment of love, such as Porpora always represented the
ideal type of the muses. My terrible master carried his point, and at
last I consented to what he struggled for. I do not think that I am
happier, nor that I am better. Since I love no longer, and feel no
longer capable of loving, I feel no longer the fire and inspiration of
the stage. This icy atmosphere, and this courtly air precipitates me
into the deepest distress. The absence of Porpora, the despair in which
I am, and the will of the king, who prolongs my engagement, contrary to
my wishes. May I not confess this, madame, to you?"
"I might have guessed it, poor thing--all thought you proud of the kind
of preference with which the king honors you; but like myself, you are
his slave and prisoner,--in the same condition as his family favorites,
soldiers, pages and puppies. Alas! for the glitter of royalty, the
glories of the princely crown; how nauseous are they, to those whose
life is exhausted in furnishing them with rays of light. But, dear
Consuelo, you have yet other things to tell me, which are not those that
interest me least. I expect from your sincerity, that you will tell me
on what terms you are with my brother, and I will induce you to do so by
my own frankness. Thinking that you were his mistress, and flattering
myself that you could obtain Trenck's pardon from him, I sought you out,
to place the matter in your hands. Now, thank heaven! we have no need of
that, and I shall be pleased to love you for yourself. I think you can
tell me all without compromising yourself, especially as the affairs of
my brother do not seem far advanced from me."
"The manner in which you speak of this matter, madame, makes me
shudder," replied Consuelo, growing pale. "Eight days ago I heard it
whispered around me, that the king, our master, entertained a serious
passion for me, his sad and trembling subject. Up to that time I had
never conceived anything possible between him and me, but a pleasant
conversation, benevolent on his side, and respectful on mine, he
exhibits a friendship and gratitude which was too great for the simple
part I had played at Roswald. There is a gulf, though, between that and
love, which I hope he will never pass."
"I think differently. He is impetuous, talkative and familiar with you;
he talks to you as to a boy, and passes your hand to his brow and to his
lips. He effects in the presence of his friends--and for some days this
has been the case--to be less in love with you than he is. This all
proves that he is likely to become so. I know it, and warn you, that ere
long you will be called on to decide. What will you do? If you resist,
you are lost; if you yield that will still be the case. If this be so,
what will you do?"
"Neither, madame. Like his recruits, I will desert."
"That is not easy, and I do not wish you to do so, having become very
fond of you; and I think I would put the recruiters on your tracks
rather than you should escape. Well, we will find a way. The case is
grave, and demands consideration. Tell me all that has passed since
Albert's death."
"Some strange and inexplicable things amid a monotonous and moody life.
I will tell you what they are, and your highness perhaps will aid me in
understanding them."
"I will try, on condition that you will call me Amelia, as you did just
now. It is not yet midnight, and I do not wish to be _highnessed_ until
day."
Porporina resumed her story thus:
"I have already told to Madame Von Kleist, when she first did me the
honor of coming to my house, that I was separated from Porpora on the
frontier of Prussia, as I was coming from Bohemia. Even now, I am
ignorant, whether his passport was not regular, or if the king had
caused us to be preceded by one of those orders, the rapidity of which
is a prodigy, to exclude Porpora from his territories. This idea,
perhaps wrong, at first suggested itself to me, for I remembered the
brusque lightness and scowling sincerity with which the maestro defended
Trenck, and blamed the king, when Frederick, at supper at Count
Hoditz's, where he had represented himself as the Baron Von Kreutz, and
told us himself of Trenck's _treason_ and confinement at Glatz."
"Indeed! then the Maestro Porpora displeased the king in talking of
Trenck?"
"The king never mentioned it to me, and I feared to remind him of it. It
is certain, that in spite of my prayers, and his majesty's promises,
Porpora has not been recalled."
"And he never will be," said Amelia, "for the king forgets nothing, and
never pardons frankness when it wounds his self-love. The Solomon of the
north hates and persecutes whoever doubts the infallibility of his
opinions; his arrest is but a gross feint, and an odious pretext to get
rid of an enemy. Weep, then, if you wish, my dear, for you will never
see Porpora at Berlin."
"In spite of my chagrin at his absence, I do not wish, madame, to see
him here, and I will take no steps to induce the king to pardon him. I
received a letter from him this morning, in which he announces that an
opera of his had been received at the imperial theatre at Vienna. After
a thousand disappointments he has attained his purpose, and his pieces
are about to be studied: I prefer, therefore, to go to him, than to
bring him hither. I am afraid, though, I shall not be at more liberty to
go hence, than I was to come."
"What say you?"
"At the frontier, when I saw that my master was forced to return I
wished to accompany him and give up my engagement at Berlin. I was so
indignant at the brutality and apparent bad faith of such a reception,
that to pay the penalty I would have lived by the sweat of my brow
rather than enter a country so despotically ruled. At the first
exhibition of my intentions I was ordered by the officer to get into the
post-chaise, which was ready in the twinkling of an eye; and as I saw
myself surrounded by soldiers determined to use constraint, I embraced
my master with tears, and resolved to suffer myself to be taken to
Berlin, which, crushed with grief and fatigue, I reached at midnight. I
was set down near the palace, not far from the opera in a handsome house
belonging to the king, in which I was absolutely alone. I found servants
at my orders, and supper all ready. I have learned that Von Poelnitz had
been directed to prepare every thing for my arrival. I was scarcely
installed when the Baron Von Kreutz sent to know if I was visible. I
hastened to receive him, being anxious to complain of Porpora's
treatment, and to ask reparation. I pretended not to know that Frederick
II. was the Baron Von Kreutz. I appeared to be ignorant of it. The
deserter, Karl, in confiding his plan to murder him, to me, had not
mentioned his name, but had spoken of him as a superior Prussian
officer, and I had learned who it was from the lips of Count Hoditz,
after the king had left Roswald. He came in with a smiling and affable
air, which I had not seen during his incognito. Under his false name,
and in a foreign country, he had been much annoyed. At Berlin he seemed
to have regained all the majesty of his character--that is, the
benevolent kindness and generous mildness which sometimes decks his
omnipotence. He came to me with his hand extended, and asked if I
remembered to have met him.
"'Yes, baron,' said I, 'and I remember that you offered and promised me
your good offices at Berlin, should I need them.' I then told him with
vivacity what had taken place on the frontier, and asked if he could not
forward to the king, his illustrious master, a demand for reparation for
the outrage and the constraint to which I had been subjected.
"'Reparation?' said the king, smiling maliciously, 'that all! Would
Signor Porpora call the King of Prussia out? Signorina Porporina,
perhaps, would require him to kneel to her.'
"This jeer increased my ill-humor. 'Your majesty may add irony to what I
have already suffered, but I had rather thank than fear you.'
"The king shook his arm rudely. 'Ah!' said he, 'you play a sharp game.'
As he spoke he fixed his penetrating eyes on mine: 'I thought you simple
and full of honesty; yet you know me at Roswald.'"
"'No, sire, I did not know you then. Would that I did not know you now.'
"'I cannot say so much,' said he, mildly, 'for had it not been for you,
I would have remained in some ditch at Roswald. Victories furnish no
ægis against assassination, and I will never forget that if the fate of
Prussia yet be in my hands, I owe it to a kind heart, opposed to all
plots. Your ill temper, then, dear Porporina, will not make me
ungrateful. Be calm, I beg you, and tell me what you complain of, for,
as yet, I know nothing about it.'
"Whether the king really knew nothing, or the police had discovered
something informal in the passport of Porpora, I know not. He listened
with great attention to my story, and told me afterwards, with the
calmness of a judge, who is unwilling to speak unadvisedly, 'I will
examine all this, and tell you about it. I shall be much surprised, if,
without good cause, my officers have annoyed a traveller. There must be
some mistake; I will find out, and if any one has exceeded his orders he
shall be punished.'
"'Sire, that is not what I ask; I wish Porpora recalled.'
"'I promise you he shall be. Now be less sombre, and tell me frankly how
you discovered my incognito.'
"I then spoke freely with the king, and found him so kind and amiable,
so agreeable, that I forgot all the prejudices I entertained against
him. I admired his brilliant and judicious mind, his easy and benevolent
manners, which I had not remarked in Maria Theresa, and finally the
delicacy of his sentiments about all things on which his conversation
touched. 'Hear me,' said he, taking up his hat to go, 'I have a piece of
friendly advice to give you on this, the very day of your arrival here.
It is, not to speak of the service you have rendered me, nor of this
visit. Though it be very honorable and natural that I should hasten to
thank you, the fact would give rise to a very false idea of the friendly
relations I wish to maintain with you. All would think you anxious of
that position, known in court language as the king's favorite. Some
would distrust, and others be jealous of you. The least inconvenience
would be to attract to you all who had petitions, the channel of which
they would expect you to be. As you would certainly have the good sense
not to play this part, you would be the complete object of their
enmity.'
"'I promise your majesty to act as you have ordered me.'
"'I give you no orders, Consuelo,' said he, 'but rely on your prudence
and correctness. At the first glance I saw you had a pure and noble
soul, and because I wished to make you the fine pearl of my department
of the arts, I ordered from the remotest part of Siberia that a carriage
should be provided for you as soon as you came to my frontier. It was
not my fault that you were placed in a kind of travelling prison, and
separated from your protector. Until he be restored to you I will
replace him, if you find me worthy of the confidence and attachment you
bore him.'
"I own, my dear Amelia, that I was keenly sensible of this paternal
language and delicate attention. Something of pride, perhaps, mingled
with it, and tears came to my eyes when the king, as he left me gave me
his hand. I had to kiss it, as doubtless duty required; but as I am
making a confession, I will say at the time I felt terrified and
paralyzed. It seemed to me that his majesty flattered and cajoled my
self-esteem, to prevent my telling what had passed at Roswald, as likely
to produce in some minds an impression injurious to his policy. It also
occurred to me that he was afraid of being ridiculed for feeling
grateful for my services. At once, too, I recalled the terrible military
_régime_ of Prussia, of which Trenck had minutely informed me--the
ferocity of the recruiters--the misfortunes of Karl--the captivity of
the noble Trenck, which I attributed to his having rescued the poor
soldier--the cries of another soldier I had seen beaten that morning, as
I passed through a village--and all that despotism which was the force
and glory of Frederick the Great. I could not hate him personally--but
I saw in him an absolute master, the natural enemy of those pure minds
which do not see the necessity of inhuman laws, and cannot penetrate the
secrets of empires."