A year after the preceding events, the palace occupied by Bruehl was
profusely illuminated. Nowhere was greater magnificence displayed
during festivities than in Dresden, nowhere more enjoyment than in the
capital of Saxony, where the tradition of luxury had been left by
Augustus the Strong. From the court the luxury spread amongst those who
surrounded the Prince, and on those who came in contact with them, even
extending to rich burghers. The banks in those times gave balls for the
court; everyone who furnished opportunity for enjoyment and could do
something unusual in the way of entertaining, was welcomed.
Fireworks, illuminations, flowers, music, pictures were employed
whenever there was opportunity for displaying them.
Bruehl was one of the greatest spendthrifts among the _nouveaux riches_;
he astounded even those whom nothing could surprise. The illumination
of his palace surpassed everything of the kind ever seen in Dresden. A
great crowd gazed from a respectful distance at the house of such a
grandee; the palace shone with multi-coloured lanterns and wreaths of
flowers. Over the _porte-cochere_, on a shield, from which two garlands
of pink and white flowers hung down were the letters F and H lovingly
blent. A little lower were placed two transparent shields with heraldic
hieroglyphics unintelligible to the crowd. The courtiers explained that
these were the coats of arms of the newly married couple.
The crowd had been standing for a long time when from the palace came a
carriage preceded by runners and postillions on horseback. The carriage
contained the mother, and the newly-married couple, coming to their
home after the reception at the court. The beautiful young wife was
about to enter the house for the first time.
Although no other guests were expected, on both sides of the stairs up
to the first floor stood numerous lackeys wearing magnificent scarlet
livery; on the first floor stood butlers and the minister's pages.
The house was furnished with princely magnificence; china, silver,
bronzes, rugs and thousands of _bibelots_ ornamented it. Bruehl
explained this luxury by saying that he wished to do honour to his
lord; he declared that he spent his last penny in order to contribute
to the magnificence of the house of Saxony. When the carriage stopped
in front of the house, the Countess, assisted by her son-in-law,
alighted first and went upstairs. Bruehl offered his arm to his wife but
she pretended not to see his movement and walked independently beside
him. Her beautiful face was sad, stern and proud. There was not the
slightest trace of joy on her gloomy features. She looked with
indifference on the luxury of the house, as though she did not care to
see it; she walked like a victim, who knows that she cannot change her
fate and does not expect any happiness. She evidently had had time to
grow cold, to think the matter over, to become familiar with her
situation, for her face was chilly as a piece of marble. If there was
grief within her, it had become chronic, slowly devouring.
The Countess Kolowrath stopped in the drawing-room and turned to look
after the married couple. Frances came to her and was silent. On her
other side Bruehl, wearing a blue and gold velvet dress, stood smiling
sweetly at his mother-in-law.
The Countess kissed her daughter silently on the forehead, and although
the life of the court had hardened her, tears appeared in her eyes,
while the newly married lady remained indifferent.
'Be happy,' the mother whispered. 'I bless you. Be happy!' and she
pressed her hands to her eyes to hide her emotion. Bruehl seized the
other hand and kissed it.
'You need not be left alone,' the mother continued in a broken voice.
'It was my duty to accompany you here and to give you my blessing; but
I don't wish to intrude upon you; I myself need rest after such
emotion.'
She turned to Bruehl.
'I commend you to your wife,' she said, 'be kind to her, love her.
Frances will become accustomed to you; be happy! The happiness of this
world is fragile and unstable--one must try to make life sweet and not
embitter it. Frances, I hope that you will be good to him--'
She covered her eyes, as though some thought had prevented her from
finishing what she had had in her mind.
Once more she bent over her daughter's forehead and kissed it. The
son-in-law graciously offered his arm and conducted her downstairs to
the court-carriage waiting for her, which she entered and hid herself
from the gaze of the crowd.
The young bride remained alone for a time and when Bruehl returned and
wished to take hold of her arm, she looked at him surprised as if she
had forgotten where she was and that she had become his wife.
'For God's sake,' the minister whispered, 'let us look happy at least
before strangers. On the stage of life, we are all actors'--it was his
favourite saying--'let us play our part well.'
Having said this he offered her his arm and conducted her through the
row of lighted rooms, to her apartment. Everything she looked at was so
magnificent, that to anyone but her it would have been a succession of
surprises. She walked not looking and not seeing. At length they came
to her dressing-room, situated in front of the chamber, in which two
alabaster lamps were throwing a pale, mysterious light.
The young lady, seeing the open door before her, stopped; looked round
for a chair, sat on one standing near the dressing-table, and became
thoughtful.
They were alone; only the murmuring of the crowd admiring the
illuminations was heard.
'Madam,' said Bruehl sweetly, 'you are in your own house, and your most
obedient servant stands before you.'
He wished to kneel; Frances rose suddenly, sighed, as if throwing off a
burden, and said with a voice in which there was sadness:
'I have had enough of this comedy, played the whole day, and it is not
necessary for us to continue it. We must be sincere and frank; let us
be so from the first day. We have contracted, not matrimony, not a
union of hearts, but a bargain; let us try to make it advantageous to
us both.'
Speaking thus and not looking at her husband, she began to take off her
wreath and veil. There was no emotion in her voice.
'If you do not wish anyone to overhear our conversation,' she added,
'be so kind as to assure your-self that nobody listens at the door.'
'I am sure of that, for I have given orders,' said Bruehl, 'and usually
my orders are executed.'
Frances took some perfume from a bottle standing on the dressing-table
and put it on her temples.
'I cannot be happy,' she continued while undressing, 'as other women
are; the man whom I loved, I don't conceal that, is in a dark prison;
you love another woman, therefore we are indifferent to each other:
although nobody told me what kind of sacrifice I am destined for, I
understand it all the same. But I wish to enjoy life and I shall enjoy
it--I must have all its pleasures. The poison must be sweetened; that I
deserve. I like luxury and I shall have it; I must have distraction in
order not to cry; I must have noise in order not to hear the voice of
my heart: I must have all that.--You are a stranger to me, I am a
stranger to you.--We may be good friends, if you try to deserve my
friendship. Who knows, I may take a fancy and be good to you for a few
days, but I will not be anybody's slave--even--'
She turned to Bruehl who stood silent and embarrassed.
'Do you understand me?'
The minister remained silent.
'Nobody said a word about it to me,' she continued. 'I guessed it with
the instinct of a woman; I know to what I am destined.--'
'Madam,' Bruehl interrupted, 'there are things about which one must not
speak; to betray them means--'
'You don't need to tell me that, I know everything. I can reveal to
you, what you think is a secret. Augustus II wished to be famous by his
amours, his pious son would not wish to be suspected of it. Therefore
everything must be arranged in such a way that nobody can see or hear.'
She laughed ironically.
'I expect, if I give you power, favour, that I must have something in
return, and I demand that my fancies shall be respected; and it is
quite sure I shall have fancies. I am anxious to know life, I am
thirsty for it; I must become intoxicated in order to forget my pain.
Do you think,' said she with animation, 'that I shall ever forget about
that unfortunate man? I see the walls, between which he is shut, the
dark room, hard bed, the face of his jailer, and himself looking
through a small window. But in that man dwells a strong spirit, which
may keep him alive till the door of the prison is opened. Is it true
that your other victim, the poor Hoym, has hanged himself in the
prison?'
Bruehl looked at the floor.
'Yes,' he said drily, 'it is no great loss; I shall not cry for him.'
'Nor I either,' rejoined Frances, 'but I shall never forget the other
man. You understand that the hand that has done this, although I was
bound to it in church,--cannot touch mine. We are and shall remain
strangers.'
She smiled ironically and continued:
'You became a Catholic, although this is also a secret. It commends you
to me! What tact and policy! The king of Poland must have a Catholic
for his minister in Poland--Bruehl there is Catholic; the Kurfuerst of
Saxony must have a Protestant minister in Saxony: Bruehl here will be a
zealous Lutheran. If Zinzendorf became King of the Moravian Brothers I
am sure you would belong to the Herrnhut community--_C'est parfait!
C'est delicieux!_'
'Madam,' said Bruehl with emotion in his voice, 'unknowingly you wound
me very severely. I am a Christian and a pious one; denomination to me
is a secondary thing, by the Gospel, our Saviour's love--'
He raised his eyes.
'It is a part of your role; I understand,' said Frances. 'Then let us
leave it, I should like to rest and be alone.'
She looked into his eyes.
'But what would the servants say? What would the people say if you
dismiss me like that? It cannot be!'
'It cannot be otherwise!' Frances exclaimed. 'You can spend the night
here on the sofa or in an armchair, I will lock myself in the bedroom.'
Bruehl looked at her uneasily.
'Then permit me to go and change my clothes and to return here. Nobody
will know what our mutual relations are, but nobody must guess it.'
'I understand that! It must be a secret and we must appear the most
loving couple. Our platonic marriage will be very amusing. The men will
envy you, the women will envy me; you are not bad-looking for the
women; the king is better looking than you, but then he is a king! I
prefer to be the mistress of the King secretly, than the wife of his
minister openly.'
She began to laugh sarcastically.
'I can imagine how his Majesty will be afraid to look at me in the
presence of his consort--'
'Madam,' said Bruehl wringing his hands, 'the walls have ears.'
Frances shrugged her shoulders.
'You know,' whispered Bruehl, 'that should there be even the slightest
suspicion, we are both lost.'
'Especially I,' the woman rejoined, 'as I should have to remain with
you _en tete a tete_, without any hope of consolation, and that would
poison my life.--Consequently I shall be silent.'
Bruehl slipped out of the room. The rooms through which he passed were
still illuminated; he walked slowly and at the other end of the house
entered his dressing-room. Two lackeys waited for him knowing that he
would come to undress.
A morning attire lay on the table; it consisted of a gorgeous _robe de
chambre_ made of blue Lyons satin with bright flowers, snow white
linen, and light silk slippers.
As orders were given to extinguish the lights, the lackey took a silver
candelabra and lighted Bruehl to his chamber. At the door the minister
dismissed him with a nod and entered.
There was no one in the dressing-room, the door leading to the
bed-chamber was locked.
Bruehl looked through the window, the street was already empty. The
illuminations were out; a night lamp burned at a corner; a clock in the
town struck midnight. Over the black houses, standing in half shadow,
the moon stood surrounded by fleecy clouds.
The night was warm, quiet.
In the chamber there was not the slightest movement.
The husband of the beautiful Frances walked several times to and fro
looking for a place to rest. He was obliged to content himself with a
small sofa and a chair instead of a bed. He lay down, smiled
sardonically, thinking about the future, then began to doze.
He dreamed of gold, diamonds, lace, of princely luxury, but not of a
human face and heart; then about white clouds with his own monogram,
over which there shone the coronet of a Count.
When he opened his eyes, it was already daylight. He ran down from his
improvised and uncomfortable bed, and went quickly to his apartment.
First he looked at a clock and was surprised to find that it was
already six o'clock, at which hour he usually began his work. When he
entered his study he saw Father Guarini standing in the centre and
smiling sweetly.
The Jesuit put out his hand to him; Bruehl, confused and blushing
slightly, kissed it. Before they spoke their eyes met. Then Guarini
said mysteriously:
'Ministers cannot sleep long even the first night after their wedding,
especially when they have as powerful enemies as you have.'
'With you, Father, and with the Princess's protection, I need not be
afraid,' said Bruehl.
'It is always necessary to be cautious,' whispered Guarini, 'kings do
not rule for ever, my dear Bruehl.
'But you, Fathers,' said Bruehl also in a whisper, 'rule, and shall rule
over the King, and his conscience.'
'My dear friend, I am not immortal, I am already old, and I feel that
it will soon be all over with me.'
They were silent for some time. Guarini walked to and fro, with his
hands behind his back.
'The Princess and I have prepared the Prince von Lichtenstein,' said
he, 'but it goes very slowly. We shall not hasten with that campaign,
we must wait until I and circumstances have prepared our lord. At
present Sulkowski is first with him. Sulkowski is everything. On your
side you have the memory of his father; try to have something more--'
He became silent.
'_Piano, piano, pianissimo!_' whispered the Jesuit. 'One must know how
to talk to our lord. _Al canto si conosce l'ucello, ed al parlar il
cervello_.'
Next he began to whisper in Bruehl's ear, then having glanced at the
clock he took his hat and rushed out.
There was a rap at the other door.
The yellow, contorted face of Henniche appeared through the half-opened
door, and then the whole man appeared. Under his arm he had a pile of
papers.
First he glanced at Bruehl's face consulting it as if it were a
barometer to tell his humour.
'Your Excellency,' he said, 'in the first place, my congratulations.'
'Business before all,' the minister interrupted, 'we need money, money,
and always money for the court, for our affairs in Poland, for the
King, for me for you, not to mention Sulkowski.'
'They whisper,' said Henniche. 'The noblemen are angry, the townsmen
grumble and appeal to their privileges, to _immunitates_.'
'Who?' asked Bruehl.
'Almost all of them.'
'But who is at their head? Who speaks most?'
'Many of them.'
'Send the Swiss guard, seize a few of them and send them to
Pleissenburg. There they will keep quiet.'
'But whom shall I choose?'
'I should doubt your acuteness if you do not understand. Do not reach
so high as to touch some partisan of Sulkowski's. Do not reach too low,
for it would be useless. Do not take a man who has relations at the
court--'
'But the reason?' asked the ex-lackey.
Bruehl laughed.
'Must I give you a reason? A word spoken too loud, _crimen laesae
majestatis_. You should understand if you are not a blockhead.'
'I understand,' said Henniche sighing.
Bruehl began to walk to and fro.
'You must tell Globig to carry out my orders. During the last
hunting-party a petition was nearly handed to the Prince. A nobleman
hid behind a bush. A few hours before a hunting-party, or a ride, or a
walk, the roads should be inspected and guards posted. Nobody should be
allowed to approach the Prince--'
'I cannot do everything by myself. There are Loss, Hammer, Globig and
others.'
'You must supervise them.'
The conversation changed into a confidential whispering, but it did not
last long. Bruehl yawned, Henniche understood and went out. Chocolate
was brought. Bruehl swallowed it quickly, drank some water, and rang the
bell for a lackey to help him to dress. In the dressing-room everything
was ready, and the changing of clothes did not take long. The
_porte-chaise_ with porters stood at the door. It was nine o'clock when
the minister ordered them to carry him to the house occupied by the
Austrian envoy, the Prince Venceslas von Lichtenstein. The house stood
in the Old Market Square and the journey was not a long one. This hour
Bruehl usually spent with the King, but to-day he took advantage of his
wedding and went to see the Prince von Lichtenstein. Bruehl did not
forget that that morning it was essential he should appear to everybody
the happiest man in the world; therefore although he was tired, his
face beamed with joy.
The Prince von Lichtenstein, a lord, and, in the full meaning of the
word, a courtier of one of the oldest ruling houses in Europe, was a
man well fitted for his position. He was tall, good-looking; his
features were regular, his mien was lordly; he was affable and polite;
in his eyes one could see intelligence and diplomatic cunning. Although
Bruehl was only a petty nobleman, but now, as prime minister of a Prince
related to the reigning house of Austria, and as husband of the
Countess Kolowrath, almost equal to Lichtenstein, he was clever enough
not to show it and he greeted the envoy with respect.
They entered the study. The Prince asked Bruehl to be seated, and he
himself took a chair opposite him.
'I return,' Bruehl said 'to our conversation of yesterday.'
'My dear Bruehl, I assure you that you may expect every assistance from
my court; title, wealth, protection, but we must go hand in hand--you
understand.'
Bruehl put out his hand immediately.
'Yes,' he said, 'we must go hand in hand. But nobody must see our
hands--the greatest secrecy must be observed, otherwise everything
would come to nought. I should be overthrown and with me the man who
serves you faithfully.'
'Do you doubt?' asked the Prince? 'My word is as good as that of the
Emperor.'
'I am satisfied with your word,' said Bruehl.
'Is it the case, that Sulkowski has some plans?' the Prince asked.
'There is no doubt about that.'
'But nothing definite.'
'On the contrary, the plan is written.'
'Have you seen it?'
Bruehl smiled and did not answer.
'Could you get it?' asked the Prince.
Bruehl's smile became still more significant. The Prince bent towards
him and seized both his hands.
'If you give me that plan in writing--'
He hesitated for a moment.
'It would mean much the same as giving you my head,' said Bruehl.
'But I hope you could trust me with your head,' the Prince rejoined.
'Certainly,' said Bruehl, 'but once the plan is in your hands there
could be no further alteration, one of us must fall, and you know how
attached the Prince is to him.'
Lichtenstein rose from his seat.
'But we have on our side the Princess, Father Guarini, you, Father
Volger and Faustina,' he said eagerly.
Bruehl smiled. 'Sulkowski has on his side the Prince's favour and
heart.'
'Yes, it is true, that weak people are stubborn, said the Prince, 'but
acting on them slowly and intelligently one can always influence them.
Never too suddenly, for their feebleness, which they feel, makes them
stubborn; one must act on them in such a way as to make them believe
that they act by themselves.'
'Sulkowski was the Prince's playmate in boyhood, he trusts him in
matters in which he would trust nobody else.'
'I do not deny that the work is difficult, but I do not think it
impossible,' answered Lichtenstein. 'But that plan? Have you seen it?
Have you read it?'
Bruehl checked the Prince's impatience by a cool business question.
'Prince, permit me to speak first about the conditions.'
'With the greatest pleasure.'
'I am very sorry, for I respect Sulkowski for other reasons,' said
Bruehl; 'he is attached to the Prince, he is faithful to him; he thinks
he could make Saxony powerful; but if his influence increases, his
ambition may lead him on wrong roads. Sulkowski does not appreciate our
saintly Princess; Sulkowski does not respect the clergy.'
'My dear Bruehl,' interrupted the Prince, 'I know him as well as you do,
if not better; he does not stand on ceremony when he is with me; I knew
him in Vienna, where he was with the Prince.'
'We must overthrow Sulkowski.' said Bruehl emphatically. 'I ask for
nothing more, but this must be done for the King's and the country's
good. Then I shall remain alone, and in me you will have the most
faithful servant.'
'But that plan? That plan?' repeated Lichtenstein. 'Give it to me and I
consent to everything.'
Bruehl put his hand carelessly into his side pocket; seeing this,
Lichtenstein drew nearer.
Bruehl took out a paper and held it before the Prince's eyes. But at the
moment when the paper was about to pass into Lichtenstein's hands,
there was a rap at the door, and a lackey, appearing on the threshold,
announced:
'The Count Sulkowski.'
In the twinkling of an eye the paper disappeared into a pocket and
Bruehl, sitting comfortably back in his chair, was taking snuff from a
gold snuff box.
Sulkowski, standing in the doorway, looked at Bruehl and Lichtenstein,
but more especially at his competitor who put out his hand to him and
smiled sweetly.
'What an early bird you are!' said Sulkowski. 'The very next day after
your wedding you visit ambassadors in the morning. I thought you were
still at your lady's feet.'
'Duties before all,' Bruehl answered. 'I was told that the Prince was
going to Vienna, and I came to take leave of him.'
'Prince, are you going to Vienna?' asked Sulkowski surprised. 'I did
not know anything about it.'
Lichtenstein seemed a little embarrassed.
'I do not know yet--perchance--' he stammered after a pause. 'I said
something about it yesterday at the court, and I see that Bruehl, who
knows about everything, has learned it.'