The next morning one could hardly see any signs of grief or mourning in
the town, but a general feeling of uneasiness and curiosity had been
aroused.
Small groups of people might be seen near the castle and in Taschenburg
trying to guess what was going on.
There was unusual animation but the order of changing guards was
unchanged. Carriages with drawn curtains and closed _porte-chaises_
went to and fro through the streets. It was a quiet, subdued animation,
however. The official signs of mourning did not yet appear, and there
was no grief visible on any face. Every courier on horseback was an
object of curiosity to the crowd who tried to guess his errand. The
people whispered but did not dare to speak aloud. Koenigstein was near,
and it seemed that at the head of the government the same officials
would remain, carrying out the same policy, for the Prince, the present
Elector, out of respect to his late father would not introduce any
strangers, and he was too fond of peace and quiet to be bothered with
changes. They guessed only that Bruehl might fall and that Sulkowski
would rise above all. But no one knew how he would exercise his power.
Round Bruehl's house situated in the New Market Square everything was
quiet. They only knew that, the day before, he had brought the crown
jewels and the King's secret archives.
The whole day passed in this apparent quiet. The smaller officials did
not know to whom they should bow or whom avoid.
Henniche, Bruehl's confidential man, that ex-lackey whom although
promoted to the rank of councillor the people still called by that
name, was sitting in his house situated near that of his protector.
At the time of his marriage Henniche never dreamt of how high he might
rise, for he had married a servant, whose only claim to his favour was
youth and some slight beauty. To-day, when both had disappeared,
Henniche's wife although a good woman was a veritable torture to her
husband, for she bore such evident traces of her low origin, that he
could not bring her forward. Notwithstanding her love for her lord and
master, she tormented him by her talkativeness and petty ways. He had
only just got rid of her and yawned leaning on his elbows, when there
entered his room, without being announced, a good-looking man,
elegantly dressed--although already in mourning--and evidently a
courtier.
From, his face one could not guess much more than that he was an
intelligent and cunning man, two qualities necessary for a life among
intrigues, which, like the wheels of passing carriages, might catch and
crush a man.
The new-comer threw his hat on a chair, took out a snuff-box and
handing it to Henniche, who looked at him inquisitively, said:
'Well, what do you think, how will it be?'
'I don't think anything; I wait and watch,' answered Henniche quietly.
'You think, Bruehl?'
They looked into each other's eyes.
'What does the world say?' asked Henniche.
'Everybody says that which he wishes for; some say that Bruehl will be
driven away and perhaps imprisoned; others say that Bruehl will remain
and drive out the rest. And what do you think?'
'I told you, I don't think anything,' answered Henniche. 'Should they
succeed in overthrowing Bruehl, I shall help them: should Bruehl be
successful in overthrowing them, I shall help Bruehl. Thank God, I am
not yet in so high a position, as to break my neck, should I fall
down.'
The new-comer laughed.
'The fact is that the only safe policy is to wait and not mix oneself
up in anything.'
'Yes, yes, my dear councillor Globig,' said Henniche rising, 'it's
dangerous to go forward as well as to remain in the rear; the wisest
course is to remain in the middle. But, between ourselves, I wager you
anything you like--even my wife against another better-looking one, for
she tried me to-day by her prattle--that Bruehl will not fall and that
nobody will be able to rival him: from to-day begins the reign of Bruehl
I, and let us pray that it lasts as long as possible. We shall both be
satisfied. But you must have come from the castle? What news there?'
'Nothing, quiet as the grave; they prepare for mourning, that's all.
Padre Guarini passes from the Prince to the Princess; Sulkowski watches
them closely, and as to Bruehl, I don't even know what has become of
him.'
'He will not be lost,' said Henniche.
'It seems that the Princess will not be satisfied if she becomes only
the wife of an Elector.'
'Bruehl shall make her a Queen,' said Henniche laughing.
At that moment horses' hoofs resounded in the street; both men rushed
to the window, in time to see a detachment of cavalry gallop to the
castle. A court lackey entered the house. Henniche ran to the door;
Globig took his hat. There was a knock and the lackey appeared holding
a letter in his hand. Henniche glanced at it and Globig looked
inquisitively at the message but could not read it, for their host put
it into his pocket and dismissed the lackey.
Again they remained alone.
'There is no secret,' said Henniche smiling, 'a great deal of money is
needed. It is not forthcoming but must be had.'
Globig advanced towards the door; Henniche took up his hat.
'Henniche, I hope we shall always pull together.'
'Even if we have to fall,' said the host smiling ironically.
'That is not necessary,' answered Globig quickly. 'On the contrary, if
one of us should fall, the other must remain and help him to rise. We
must climb together.'
'And if we fall, push each other down.'
'No, we should require no help from each other for that.'
They shook hands.
Henniche was just going out when he met a new-comer in the ante-room;
this was a tall man with thin arms and long legs and an ugly but
intelligent face.
'Look, he is here also,' said Henniche laughing.
The tall man entered bowing.
'Well, what news? Do we fall or rise?'
'You must be patient and wait,' said the host.
'When there is the question of our skins!' answered the new-comer.
'My dear councillor Loss, our skins sown together would not cover a
comfortable seat. Everything rests on someone who has broader shoulders
than ours. Have you heard anything?'
'Just what everyone expected; Sulkowski is prime minister.'
'Very interesting indeed!' Henniche hissed. 'Sulkowski, being a
Catholic, cannot preside at state councils in Protestant Saxony, unless
he becomes a Lutheran, and should he do this the Prince would spit in
his face, not to speak of the Princess.'
'You are right,' said Councillor Globig, 'I never thought of that.'
'You forget,' said Loss showing a row of long teeth, 'that his majesty
can change the law.'
'Without convocation of the diet?' asked Henniche.
'Yes, here he is ruler,' replied Loss, 'and Saxony is not Poland, where
the nobles do as they please and the King is obliged to bow to their
will.'
Henniche cleared his throat, for steps were heard at the door and at
that moment there appeared a large, fat man, who without taking off his
hat, looked at the three men.
He was another councillor. Hammer.
'What is it, a diet?' said he slowly uncovering his head.
'This is quite unexpected,' said Henniche angrily 'speaking frankly,
one would think that we conspire.'
'Who does anything to-day? The work will not begin till to-morrow,'
said Hammer. 'To-day everyone thinks of himself and makes a compromise
with his conscience, lest he should seem to be against the rising sun
by saluting the setting one; it is well known that if one turns one's
face towards the West, one turns something else to the East.'
They all laughed.
'Hammer,' said Globig, 'you who know everything, tell us, what news
have you?'
'Bells, bells, bells!' answered Hammer. 'Even if I knew anything I
would not say, for who knows to-day, who is his friend and who his foe?
One must be silent, one must cry with one eye and laugh with the other
and be silent, silent! Henniche has his hat,' said he after a pause,
'are you going out?'
'I must,' said the host, 'duty!'
^Yes! it is the most important thing,' said Hammer. 'To-day, everybody
serves himself--there is no more exacting master.'
'Don't you know anything new?' said Globig in a low voice coming near
Hammer.
'On the contrary, I have much news, but I shall not tell it, except one
item.'
All drew nearer.
'We Saxons do not count at present, Poles are the most important. They
are sure of the succession to the principality of Saxony, but to get
the Polish crown Sapiechas, Lipskis, Czartoryskis, Lubonirskis,
Moszynskis, and Sulkowskis are necessary.'
'You have put Sulkowski last?'--asked Loss ironically.
'For this reason, that he should be at the head,' said Hammer; 'and
now, gentlemen, I wish you good-bye.'
He put on his hat and went out first followed by the others. The host
remained behind evidently wishing to go alone.
At the door of the house everyone of them looked round cautiously, and
they all went in different directions.
In the square could be seen groups of people and soldiers marching. The
same curiosity was aroused in other houses of the capital of Saxony,
but until the evening nobody could say anything for certain.
The dusk was falling, when a _porte-chaise_ stopped at the house in
which Padre Guarini lived. He was in the same room in which we saw him
previously with Bruehl. Here, the confessor to the Prince and Princess,
the most powerful although the most modest man in the court, received
his friends. The modest old man would have contented himself with a
couple of rooms, but as he was obliged to receive many distinguished
guests, he occupied the whole house. According to the rank of his
visitor, he received him either in his study or his drawing-room, the
latter being beautifully furnished and ornamented with pictures by old
masters.
A tall man alighted from the _porte-chaise_ dressed in dark clothes and
wearing a sword. By his face one could see he was a foreigner; his
features were delicate, aristocratic but faded. A sweet smile
brightened his face. His forehead was high and white, his eyes were
large and dark; a Roman nose, thin lips, and a clean shaven face showed
that he was a man of gentle birth. He wore a black cloak and white lace
cuffs to his dress.
He ran upstairs, rang the bell, and when Guarini's old servant opened
the door, he entered without asking any questions and without giving
his name. The old servant hastened to open not the door of the study
but that of the drawing-room.
The room was dark and unoccupied, but Padre Guarini entered almost at
the same moment; not a little surprised at seeing the new-comer, he
bent his head humbly and crossed his arms on his chest.
The stranger drew near and they kissed each other's shoulders, Guarini
bending almost to his hand.
'You didn't expect me,' said the guest, 'I did not know myself that I
should come to-day. You can guess what brings me here--the present
situation is of the greatest importance.'
'Yesterday I sent a letter asking for instructions,' answered the host.
'I have brought them to you. Lock the door. We must be alone.'
'It is not necessary,' answered Guarini, 'we are quite safe here.'
'Then let us not waste time! How do things stand? What is going to
happen? Are you afraid of anything? Do you need any help? Speak and let
us be advised beforehand.'
Guarini became silent, weighing that which he was going to say.
Although the stranger wore civil dress, he said to him:
'Most Reverend Father, you know as well as I do the state of affairs at
the court. The Prince is a zealous Catholic, the Princess, if it were
possible, is still more zealous. The first favourite Sulkowski is also
a Catholic. Everyone about them confesses to our holy faith.'
'But Sulkowski! I heard that he will be the most important figure in
the future. The Prince is good, of weak character, and lazy,
consequently someone must rule for him. Can we trust Sulkowski?'
Guarini became thoughtful, looked into the eyes of the stranger, put
one hand on his mouth and shook his head.
'He is a Catholic,' said he after a pause, 'but he is cold, his
ambition is stronger than his faith; his longer influence would be
perilous both for us and Catholicism. There is no doubt.'
'But, as far as I know, it is impossible to overthrow him,' said the
guest. 'Is the Princess strong enough?'
'By her face and character?' whispered the Jesuit. 'Do you think, then,
that in that quiet nature of the Prince, there will ever arise the
blood and the passions of Augustus the Strong? Is it possible? Then of
what account would the Princess be? Sulkowski will suggest other women
to him, in order to rule through them.'
The stranger frowned.
'Your views are too gloomy,' said he 'we must find some remedy.'
'I have thought it over beforehand,' began Guarini seating his guest on
the sofa and taking a chair beside him. 'We must have near the Prince a
man whom we can be sure will serve us, who would also depend upon us.
Frederick is lazy, we must make him a soft bed, provide him with his
favourite amusements, give him operas, hunting and pictures. Who knows,
perhaps something more,' said he sighing.
Again the stranger frowned.
'It is too bad,' he interrupted, 'that for so great a purpose, we must
use base means; it is sad--'
'_Cum finis est licitus, etiam media licita sunt_,' quoted Guarini
quietly. 'We cannot limit the means: they are different in every case.'
'I understand,' said the guest, 'it is of the greatest importance that
we do not expose ourselves to calumny. The question is about the
salvation of our souls, about holding our position here, where
previously Luther was omnipotent. We have tools, it would be sinful if
we dropped them for the sake of scruples, we must rather lose one soul
than sacrifice thousands.'
Guarini listened humbly.
'Father,' said he quietly, 'I have told myself the same a hundred
times, and that is why I serve as best I can, not always in the
direction conscience would direct, but often like a _pulcinello_ of the
Prince, like an impresario behind the stage, like a councillor there,
where advice is necessary. When the question is how to take a
stronghold, and when one cannot take it by force of arms, one takes it
by strategy. _Media sunt licita_.'
'We don't need to repeat that to each other,' said the guest. 'Tell me
all about your plans.'
'We must act with caution,' began Guarini. 'You must not be scandalised
at our actions; sometimes you will have cause to sigh over our
wickedness, but weak people must be guided by the cords of their own
passions.--We are sure of the Princess; our first duty is, if possible,
to make her influence stronger. But that most pious lady, I am forced
to admit, is the most unbearable in private life, and the King must
have some distraction, for he could not live without it. If we do not
furnish it, he will supply it for himself--'
He paused and then continued:
'Sulkowski will not listen to anybody, he will sacrifice everything for
himself; in order to keep the King under his domination, he will give
him everything he wishes for. We never can be certain of him; we must
overthrow him.'
'By what means?'
'I shall come to that; Providence has given us a tool. We have a man.
Bruehl is that man.'
'Protestant,' said the stranger.
'He is a Protestant in Saxony and publicly; but in Poland and in his
private life he is a Catholic. We must permit that; you know what our
Maldonatus says:--_Onando vobis dissimulantibus religio vera aliquod
detrimentum acceptura sit aut aliqua religio falsa confirmaretur, alias
ittam dissimulare licet, aliqua causa legitima interveniente_.[1] Bruehl
shall be or rather is a Catholic. We shall find him a Catholic wife,
whom he will accept from the Prince's and our hands; we shall help him
to overthrow Sulkowski; with Bruehl we are lords here. Nobody will
suspect that we have had a hand in the matter, for nobody could suspect
us of helping a Protestant against a Catholic.'
'But are you sure of him?'
Guarini smiled.
'He shall be dependent upon us; should he attempt to betray us, he
would fall to-morrow; we have plenty of means to accomplish that.'
'I cannot deny that the plan is excellent,' said the stranger after a
moment of thought, 'but the execution of it seems to me doubtful.'
'Yes, just at present,' said Padre Guarini, 'it may take us one or
perchance two years' work, using all possible means, but with God's
help victory is certain as far as in human affairs one can be certain
of anything.'
'Do you count on the Prince's character?'
'Yes,' answered Guarini, 'having been his confessor for so many years I
know him well.'
'What about the Princess?' asked the guest.
'She is a worthy lady and a saint, but God has not endowed her with any
feminine charm. She will not satisfy the Prince.'
'For God's sake! I hope you will not persuade him to lead the
lascivious life that his father did!'
'We need not restrain him from that,' said Guarini, 'his natural
disposition will not allow him to create a public scandal, but it would
be impossible to put a bridle on his passions. They will be secret but
stubborn. We must overlook many things in order to make him remain a
Catholic.'
The stranger became sad.
'What an awful thing it is to be obliged to soil oneself for the sake
of the holy truth!'
'Well, there must be some scapegoat, such as I,' said Guarini jocosely.
'The people envy me--'
'Not I,' interrupted the visitor, 'not I!'
'What are your orders?' asked Guarini.
'Your plans shall be considered by our council,' answered the stranger.
'In the meanwhile you must act. We shall send you our instructions
soon.'
'Bruehl shall remain. The Prince, with tears, has promised his wife to
fulfil his father's last wish. Sulkowski shall only be the apparent
ruler, Bruehl shall be the true one, and then--'
'You think you will be able to overthrow him?'
'We are certain; we all act against the man, who has not the slightest
idea of danger, and Bruehl's ambition is the best weapon in our hands.'
'But Bruehl!'
'He is a devil in human form, but a devil who prays and is equally
ready to crush his enemy, and suffers from no qualms of conscience.
Then he is sweet, polite and winning to the highest degree.'
They became silent, the stranger thoughtful.
'Any progress in conversion?' asked he after a moment's pause.
'In this nest of heresy?' said Guarini, 'here, where Protestantism
dominates? The progress is very small, and the souls, which our
fishermen's nets pull to the shore, are not worth much. Their
descendants may pay for our labour. And then there is a new heresy
spreading rapidly, the fight against which may be more difficult than
against the others.'
'What is it?'
'Nothing new, any more than other heresies; but the apostle of it is a
powerful, exalted, self-satisfied man. We have to fight not only a
dogma, for with him dogma is of secondary importance, but a new social
organisation, which he proposes to build. Falsehood takes the
brightness from truth. In the woods beyond the town, the committee of
the Moravian Brothers, something like a monastic order without any
rules, was organised and prospers.'
'Tell me more about it,' said the guest, with animation. 'I have heard
nothing about it.'
'A strange fanatic, not of religion but of the social organisation and
the way of living, attempted in the name of Christ and his teaching, to
create a new State. Christ is the King of that republic. Separated, but
living in the same spot, there dwell troops of women, girls and
children. They are united by joining in common prayers and meals. The
powerful lord, Count Zinzendorf, granted land to the community and
became its minister and preacher. Work and prayer, strict discipline
and brotherly love, rule over the Moravian Brothers of Herrnhut.'
The stranger listened attentively.
'And you permitted the spreading of heresy?' he exclaimed.
'I tried to stop it, but in vain,' said Guarini. 'Investigations were
made, and I hope Zinzendorf will be banished.'
'But they must have committed some abominations!' said the guest.
'The most careful investigations failed to discover anything vicious.
Those people confess different creeds, but they are united in one
strange community, in which there is no private property, no poor
people, no orphans; they constitute one family, the father of which is
Christ.'
'_Horrendum!_' exclaimed the stranger. 'And the marriages?'
'They are strictly observed, but as they believe that they are directly
ruled by Christ, you may guess how marriages are contracted. The young
men draw their wives by lots and the couples live an exemplary life.'
'You tell me of strange things. But may they not be false rumours?'
'I was there myself, and I saw the praying bands of maidens with purple
sashes, of married women with blue, and of widows with white.'
The guest sighed.
'I trust you will not suffer the sect to grow.'
'We must cut off its head,' said Guarini. 'Zinzendorf shall be
banished, then the community will scatter.'
'Have you seen this Zinzendorf?'
'Yes, several times, for he does not avoid the Catholic priests: on the
contrary, he discourses willingly with them, not about theology,
however, but about the first Christians, their life and our Saviour's
love, the axle-tree, according to him, round which the Christian world
ought to revolve.'
At this moment the old servant appeared in the doorway. Padre Guarini,
having excused himself, went to the ante-room where he found one of the
King's lackeys. The Prince had sent for his confessor.
It was necessary to take leave of the guest, to whom paper, pen and ink
were given, and he settled himself to write as though in his own house.
Padre Guarini took leave of his guest and preceded by the lackey,
hastened to the Prince.
Frederick was sitting in the same room in which he had learned about
his father's death. He held a pipe, his head drooped, and he was silent
as usual. Only the wrinkles of his forehead indicated that he was
thinking hard.
When Padre Guarini entered the Prince wished to rise, but the Jesuit
held him gently to his chair and kissed his hand. At a little distance
stood Sulkowski, who would not leave his master even for a moment. His
face was beaming triumphantly but he tried to be sad officially.
Padre Guarini could take more liberties; he knew that notwithstanding
the official mourning, a little distraction would be necessary;
consequently his manner was almost jovial, he took a stool and sat near
the Prince, and looking into his eyes, spoke in Italian with animation.
'We must pray for our late King, but it is not proper to mourn too much
over that which is natural and necessary. Too intense grief is
injurious to the health, and then your Royal Highness has no time for
it. It is necessary to rule and to keep in good health.'
The Prince smiled.
'I saw Frosch in the ante-room,' continued the Jesuit, 'he looks as if
someone had put him into vinegar; he cries because he cannot play
tricks on Horch.[2] They sit in opposite corners and put out their
tongues at each other.'
'It must be very amusing!' whispered the Prince: 'but it would not be
decorous for me to see it; it is the time of mourning.'
The Jesuit was silent.
'Frosch is very amusing, and I like him,' added the Prince, and looked
at Sulkowski, who walked softly to and fro. The Padre tried to read the
Count's face, but saw only pride and self-satisfaction. The Prince
pointed at him and whispered--'Good friend--all my hopes are centred in
him--but for him I could not have peace.'
The Jesuit nodded in sign of approval
Sulkowski knowing that to prolong the conversation would bore the
Prince, came to him and said:
'It is difficult to find amusement for your Royal Highness amid so many
troubles.'
'I think,' said the Jesuit, 'that with your good-will everything can be
done.'
'Yes, in Saxony,' answered Sulkowski at whom the Prince was looking and
nodding affirmatively, 'but in Poland--'
'Our late King left many friends and faithful servants there. What does
Bruehl say?' asked Guarini.
The Prince looked at Sulkowski as if authorising him to answer. The
Count hesitated a moment, then said:
'Bruehl assured us that our friends there will work zealously at the
coming election. But who knows that Leszezynski, France and intrigues
will not stand in our way? For that we need money.'
'Bruehl must furnish it,' said the Prince. 'He is very able at that.'
Sulkowski became silent.
'We shall all do our best and put the crown of a king on the head of
our gracious lord.--'
'And Josepha's,' added Frederick quickly. 'It is due to her; she cannot
remain the wife of the Elector of Saxony.'
Both men nodded; the Prince smoked his pipe and became thoughtful. It
seemed that he would talk further on the same subject when he bent to
Guarini and whispered:
'Frosch sitting in the corner must be very amusing; you say they showed
each other their tongues?'
'I am certain I saw two red tongues, but I don't know whether they
showed them to each other or to me.'
The Prince, forgetting himself, laughed aloud, then he put his hand to
his mouth and became silent.
And it was not until after a long while that Frederick bent again to
Guarini's ear and whispered:
'Have you seen Faustina?'
'No,' answered the Jesuit.
'Ah? No? Why? Assure her of my favour, only she must take care of her
voice. I appreciate her very much. _E una diva!_ She sings like an
angel! No other can rival her. I shall be longing to hear her. Now she
must sing in church, there at least I may listen to her.'
Sulkowski disliked that whispering: he moved aside, and then came near
the Prince. Frederick again pointed him out to the priest.
'He will be my prime minister--my right hand.'
'I am glad to hear such good news,' said Guarini, clapping his hands
softly. 'Saxony is to be congratulated at having at her head such a man
and such a good Catholic as the Count.'
The Prince looked round.
'If my Saxon subjects object to having a Catholic as my prime minister,
Bruehl will do whatever I command.'
'I have nothing against Bruehl,' said the Jesuit, 'but he is a stubborn
Protestant.'
To this the Prince answered: 'Pshaw!' and waved his hand.
Sulkowski looked suspiciously at the Jesuit, who assumed a humble and
quiet mien.
At that moment Moszynski was announced, and the Prince ordered him to
be shown in.
'I wished to take leave of your Royal Highness,' he said bending to
kiss Frederick's hand. 'I am going to Warsaw: we cannot neglect the
election.'
'Very well, go then,' said the Prince sighing. 'Although Bruehl assures
me--'
'Bruehl knows neither Poland nor the Poles,' said Moszynski with
fervour. 'It is our affair.'
Suddenly, Frederick rose, and exclaimed as if he had recollected
something:
'By the bye! You are going to Warsaw! Pray remember about those hounds
that were left in Wilanow. I must have them! Send someone by
_porte-chaise_ with them. There are no better hounds than they are. You
know--'
'Yes, they are black,' said Moszynski.
'Jupiter, Diana, and Mercury,' enumerated the Prince. 'Pray send them
to me at once.'
'I think they had better stay there,' said Moszynski. 'When the Prince
becomes King----'
'My dear Count, send me also Corregio's Madonna! Take it from the
Saxony Palace and send it! It is a masterpiece!'
Moszynski bowed.
'Any further orders?' asked he.
'Greet the musketeers; my father was very fond of them.'
The remembrance of his father made him gloomy, he sat down. Sulkowski,
always anxious that his master should have that of which he was fond,
went to tell a lackey to bring a fresh pipe. The Prince seized it
quickly and began to smoke.
All were silent. Guarini looked attentively at Frederick; Moszynski
waited in vain, for the Prince was so much absorbed in his pipe that he
forgot about everything else.
At length Moszynski kissed the Prince's hand and took his leave.
Frederick smiled on him affectionately, but said not a word more.
Sulkowski conducted Moszynski to the ante-room; the Prince remained
with Guarini. Hardly had the door closed when the Prince turned to the
Jesuit.
'That's nothing,' he whispered, 'when they only show each other their
tongues, but when Frosch begins to abuse Horch, and the latter begins
to kick, and then when both go under the table and fight, then one can
die of laughter.'
Guarini seemed to share the Prince's appreciation of the comical
attitude of two fighting fools.
'No,' continued the Prince, 'one cannot let them into the dining-room
to-morrow; but later on, for they must not forget their excellent
tricks.'
Guarini got up; it seemed that he was hastening to return to the guest
he had left at his house. The Prince changed the subject of
conversation, and said:
'Don't be angry, that I propose to make Bruehl a minister although he is
a Protestant. He shall be quickly converted, for he is an intelligent
man, and I shall command him--you shall see.'
Guarini made no answer; he bowed and went out.