One winter evening, several months after Sulkowski's departure, Father
Guarini entered the King's room. It was the hour which Augustus III was
accustomed either to spend in the Queen's apartment, or in the opera,
or shooting at a target.
That day Augustus III remained closeted in his room. Twice a
chamberlain came to tell him that the Queen was waiting for him, but he
sent him away. It was a sign that the King was in a very bad humour. So
they told Father Guarini about it and he rushed to the rescue. He alone
could improve his temper. The old priest entered smiling as usual.
The King looked at him gloomily and turned away his head.
Notwithstanding that, the Padre sat on a stool and said:
'May I ask your Majesty what makes my lord so sad? His faithful servant
is sorry.'
Augustus III moved his head, muttered something and took a pipe.
'It would relieve your Majesty,' continued the Jesuit, 'if your Majesty
would tell me.'
'A trifle,' said the King.
'Then it is not worth while to be sad about,' rejoined the Padre.
'A trifle!' the King repeated, and having risen, he walked to and fro,
sighing, as was his custom when angry.
Guarini watched him attentively.
'It is bad,' he said, 'that your Majesty, working so hard, does not try
to find some amusement. Distraction is necessary to a man. St John in
Patmos had a tame partridge.'
'Partridge!' the King repeated thoughtfully. 'I prefer hunting for
woodcock.'
He resumed his walk, sighing.
'We must have either an opera, or hunting, or pictures.'
Augustus III waved his hand.
'Where is Bruehl?' asked the Padre.
'Ah! Bruehl! Only Bruehl! But he is busy, poor man, let him rest. Bruehl
is a good man.'
'Excellent!' affirmed Guarini. 'But it is not with him that your
Majesty is angry?'
'The idea! Bruehl--capital fellow, Bruehl!' said the King, but lowered
his head.
'Well, I do not suppose that your Majesty is craving for Sulkowski.'
The King stopped suddenly, and Guarini recognised that he had
discovered the cause of the King's bad humour.
'Yes, Sulkowski,' said the King, 'just imagine, Josephine does not like
him. How can anyone help liking Sulkowski? Tell me that.'
Guarini became silent. The question was straight but he did not answer
it.
The King repeated:
'Father, how can one help liking Sulkowski?'
The Jesuit thought for a long time. The moment was decisive, it was
necessary that the attack should be skilful, and he thought how to do
it.
'Your Majesty,' said he, 'personally I have nothing against Sulkowski.
As a Catholic he is indifferent, that is true. Then it seems to me that
he does not show sufficient respect to our saintly Queen.'
'Oh! Oh!' broke in the King.
'At least people think so,' said Guarini imperturbably. 'It is certain
that your Majesty's favour made him very proud.'
As the King listened he grew gloomier.
'Your Majesty,' said Guarini with ardour, 'we are alone, nobody but God
hears us. Pray tell me, as on confession, did Sulkowski never lead the
King into temptation?'
At this Augustus III blushed, turned his back and continued to
perambulate the room. His silence was an answer in the affirmative.
Guarini laughed.
'Is it not too daring? I can understand that a servant and friend might
sometimes like to take something on his own conscience for his master's
sake, but he might at least wait until a sign is given him to act so.'
The King went on with his walk.
'The Queen has a presentiment,' said the Padre. 'And no wonder! But
_satis_ of this. It is well known that he has some plans against
Austria, against the house from which we have our Queen, and against
our promises--'
Augustus sat in an arm-chair as if he were tired and looked at the
priest.
'His worse fault is his pride which makes him believe that he can do
anything he likes with the King. There are people who have heard him
say so. A little humiliation would do him good, for it is not well that
people should say he rules over Saxony and not our gracious King.'
'Eh! Eh!' said the King, 'who says so? Whoever it is, hang him!'
'Those who heard Sulkowski boast.'
'Boast! That is bad!' rejoined the King. 'I shall scold him for that!'
Guarini saw that the King was already tired of the subject, and he
tried to find something to amuse him, certain that the seed would take
root and grow.
At that moment a chamberlain entered again and announced that the Queen
was waiting for the King to have some music.
'Let us go!' said Augustus III sighing.
Guarini bowed and they went. The lackeys preceded them with
candelabras.
The Queen's apartments were furnished according to Josephine's taste.
There was no luxury, but in the severity one could trace the majesty of
the emperor's palace.
The pictures were all religious. Instead of _bibelots_ there were
plenty of relics and crosses. The court was composed of elderly ladies
and so chosen that their beauty would not prove distracting to the
King.
That day, John George Pisendel, the most famous violinist of those
times, was going to give a concert in the court music hall. Besides him
Pantaleon Heberstreit was going to play on an instrument invented by
himself and called a _clavicembolo_. Buffardia and Quanz were to play
the flute.
The Queen, already a little annoyed, walked to and fro waiting for her
consort. When he entered she came up to him and tried to read his
humour in his face and she understood that he was displeased. Music was
the best remedy.
As soon as the King sat down and Buffardia began to play the flute, the
clouds dispersed and the forehead became serene. The Queen remained
behind the King for a moment and made a sign to Guarini. The Jesuit had
only time to whisper:
'_Poca roba_--Sulkowski.'
The Queen hastened her pace and reached her chair beside that of the
King. The orchestra struck up an overture and the King listened to it
with great attention.
During the concert it was evident that the Queen was thinking about
something more important than the music. Pisendel in vain did his best,
the Queen did not seem to hear him. Bruehl's wife was also present at
the concert; she was sitting beside her mother; the minister stood
behind the King and looked as modest as if he were not prime minister
and also the only minister.
Padre Guarini passing by him, whispered:
'The war has begun, the enemy defends himself, we must concentrate all
our forces, be on your guard.'
Bruehl stood quiet as though he had not heard anything. Buffardia and
Quanz played a duet. The King closed his eyes and enjoyed the music.
Anyone seeing the scornful looks of Bruehl's wife directed at the King,
would have been surprised and frightened at the contempt with which she
dared to look at him.
Behind her chair stood the minister's retinue who were admitted to the
concert, and among them might have been seen a young man looking so
much like Watzdorf that he might have been taken for his ghost. Frau
Bruehl's eyes often wandered in that direction, rested on the beautiful
face of the youth and tried to meet his eyes; their glance met and the
youth blushed.
After the concert supper was announced, with a separate table for their
Majesties. The King had such a famous appetite that he seemed to forget
about everything else: but after supper he asked Bruehl to follow him to
his apartment.
The greater part of the court dispersed; the ladies remained for
evening prayers, for there was a custom that on certain days they
recited prayers conducted by Father Guarini.
That day the spiritual _exercitia_ took place in the Queen's little
chapel and then only was the rest of the court dismissed.
Guarini was also going when the Queen called him.
'Father, how was it? The King--'
'Began to talk about Sulkowski of his own accord. He is very sorry that
there are people who are against Sulkowski. As I was asked I could not
be silent and I began the war.'
'But what? what?' the Queen asked inquisitively. 'I said as much as I
could without wearying the King,' said Guarini. 'I told him everything
I had in my heart.'
'And the King?'
'He listened in silence.'
'Do you think it will make any impression on him?'
'Undoubtedly, but we must repeat the attacks. Sulkowski will return, we
must press the matter, he must find the King cool; otherwise the old
friendship would assert itself, he would take his old place and nobody
would be able to move him from it. We must not ask too much; we cannot
ask to be allowed to act with him as with Hoym. One cannot prove much
against him. It would do if he were dismissed.'
'But you know how fond the King is of him,' said the Queen, 'would he
not take advantage of that? A godless man as he is would be ready to
use any means. Did you ever see him in a church? And you know that he
never observes Lent.'
The Queen shivered and became silent for a moment.
'I shall not give in,' she added, 'you must act also. Bruehl cannot.'
'I will act, only at the last moment,' said Guarini, 'and very
carefully. For good work one must use all possible means. God will help
us. When does he return?'
'His wife expects him every day; he wrote to the King that he would be
back this week. We must hasten,' said the Queen.
Guarini bowed humbly and went out.
The next day in the morning, Bruehl was in the King's room. His duties
were not fatiguing but tiresome. Usually Augustus was silent; one was
obliged to stand looking at him and to bow when he smiled or cleared
his throat.
Bruehl had additional trouble in watching the King so closely that no
one could unexpectedly approach him; at all audiences, without any
exception, Bruehl was present. If the King was going to Mass the way was
cleared of all persons who did not belong to the court. Nobody could
approach him without the minister's permission or in his absence. It
seemed that Augustus III, who above all things was fond of quiet and
afraid of surprises, was glad of this, for he never tried to get free
and was grateful to his guardians.
After the Mass and audiences, during which the silent King did not
waste many words, Bruehl remained with him alone.
He could guess that the King wished to converse about something, for he
walked uneasily about, stopped opposite him, blinked his eyes, smiled
sadly, but could not begin the conversation. At length he stopped, put
his hands on the minister's shoulders and asked:
'Bruehl, what do you think of Sulkowski?'
Although Bruehl was prepared, he could not answer at once and dropped
his eyes.
'Sire,' he answered, 'I am sure I think the same as your Majesty.'
'And do you know what I think of him?'
'I do not know, but I am my lord's faithful servant and thus I retain
those whom he likes as friends, and as foes those whom the King
dislikes.'
The King's face brightened.
'Bruehl! I love you!' he exclaimed.
The minister bent to kiss his lord's hand.
'Bruehl, I love you very much,' added Augustus, 'and that is why I ask
your advice. Listen, they frighten me about him----'
He looked into Bruehl's eyes solemnly.
'Speak frankly----'
'I have nothing against Sulkowski, but my lord's favour, which makes me
humble, arouses great pride in him; it may be that he boasted that he
can do anything, not only in the state affairs, but also with your
Majesty.'
'H'm! You say it may be! Yes, it may be!' said the King. 'Between
ourselves, he knows nothing of music, and does not understand much
about pictures: he is satisfied when the subject is nude! What a Venus
he brought here once, and what trouble I had with the Queen about it!
She ordered the picture to be burnt. Well, it is true also, that he
takes too many liberties----'
Augustus III, not finishing his sentence, looked out of the window,
became dreamy and yawned.
'What do you think,' he asked 'is it an authentic Ribera, sent
yesterday from Venice?'
Bruehl shrugged his shoulders.
'I am of your Majesty's opinion.'
'It might be Ribera.'
'Yes, it might be Ribera,' Bruehl repeated.
'But it might be _il Erote_----'
'There is no doubt that it looks like _Frate_----'
'Bruehl, you are an expert.'
'I learn from your Majesty.'
Augustus well-satisfied came to Bruehl and whispered to him.
'The Queen wishes me to send him away, for somebody told her that he
induced me to have some amours--'
'Nobody could suspect your Majesty of that!' cried Bruehl. 'Everybody
knows your virtuous life.'
'I shall never give cause to be suspected,' the King whispered. 'Never,
never! I prefer----'
He could not finish. Bruehl whispered.
'Nobody, not a soul could suspect your Majesty.'
'It must be so,' whispered Augustus. 'Do you think that he knows
something? Does he suspect me? He?'
'I am sure he does not know anything yet, but if he is here
continually, spying--he could--who could foresee----'
The King, alarmed, drew himself up.
'If it is so, then I must dismiss him: yes, yes, it will be better. You
shall take his place with me.'
Bruehl again kissed his lord's hand. Augustus was still sad, he sighed,
his eyes filled with tears--it distressed him to part with his friend.
'Bruehl,' said he, 'it is decided; the Queen wishes it to be so, Guarini
advises it, you have nothing against it; but tell me, how can it be
done? How?'
The minister drooped his head and assumed an embarrassed mien. The King
looked at him awaiting his decision.
'Your Majesty,' said Bruehl raising his head, 'there are good reasons
for disgrace, but I would not advise you to be severe with him; it will
suffice to dismiss him, and not to let him see his lord's face.
Banishment from the court is the worst of punishments.'
'Yes,' the King muttered, 'but I shall leave him a small pension.'
He looked at Bruehl who nodded in the affirmative.
'Then banishment,' Augustus added, 'and I leave the execution of it to
you. Do what you please, but save me any annoyance. Let him go----'
Augustus having shunted his trouble on to somebody else's shoulders,
was already serene again.
'Bruehl,' he said, 'announce to the Queen that I should like to see her;
the Queen either prays or paints; if she paints I can see her.'
Bruehl went out; five minutes later, the King, preceded by a
chamberlain, went to his consort's apartments. He found her painting. A
young artist stood respectfully behind her. The august artist was
painting a head of Christ. The fact was that very little was done by
her, for the artist, when the Queen was absent, corrected and improved
that which was badly done; but the next day the Queen thought it was
her own work and was satisfied with herself. That way the picture
progressed; when it was finished it was said that it was painted by the
Queen and the court admired her talent.
When the King entered, the Queen did not rise, but pointed at the work.
Augustus stood behind her and admired the picture, which having been
recently improved by the artist was not at all bad. The King, having
complimented the Queen, made a sign to the artist to retire for a time
into the next room, which he did as quickly as he could, bowing humbly.
Augustus III bent to the Queen's ear and said:
'It shall be as you wish; we shall dismiss Sulkowski; I came to tell
you this.'
The Queen turned quickly and smiled at the King.
'But not a word!' said the King. 'Bruehl will arrange the matter, I do
not wish to trouble myself about it.'
'You do not need to,' said the Queen. 'Guarini and Bruehl will do
everything.'
The King did not wish to prolong the subject and began to talk about
the picture.
'I congratulate you on your colouring,' he said, '_tres fin_, and
very fresh. Listarde could not paint a better pastel; you paint
beautifully--only do not permit that artist to spoil your work and do
not follow any advice.'
'He only sharpens my pencils,' said the Queen.
'Beautiful head! I shall hang it in my room if you will make me a
present of it,' and he smiled.
As the dinner hour had not yet arrived, the King bowed, kissed the
Queen's hand and went to his apartment; on his way he nodded to the
artist to go and help the Queen with her artistic effort.
The King's face beamed with satisfaction now that he had got rid of his
trouble. To-day he was altogether a different man from yesterday; his
forehead was serene, there was a smile on his lips, he breathed more
freely and could think of something else. He cared less for Sulkowski
than for his disturbed peace and few unpleasant days. He was ready to
sacrifice a man in order to get rid as soon as possible of any
difficulty in his own life.
Bruehl was waiting in the King's apartment. The King, having glanced at
him, laughed and said:
'The affair is finished: after dinner shooting at a target, in the
evening a concert, to-morrow an opera.'
He drew near the minister and added:
'Nobody must mention his name; all is over.'
He thought for a moment.
'Employ anybody you wish, provided I do not know anything more about
the affair.'
He became thoughtful and ended with:
'Listen Bruehl, it is Ribera--'
'Yes, your Majesty, it is Ribera,' affirmed the minister.