THE PRIMA DONNA.
The festivities of the first day were concluded with a ballet. Great
preparations had been made for the reception of the King of Prussia.
Noverre with his dancers, and Florian Gassman with his opera corps had
been summoned to Neustadt. They came in twenty wagons laden with
scenery, coulisses, machinery, and costumes, all of which was intended
to prove to Frederick that, although the court of Berlin was the
acknowledged seat of literature and the fine arts, Vienna was not
altogether forsaken by the Muses.
"Your majesty must be indulgent to our theatrical efforts," said the
emperor, as they took their seats in the box which had been prepared for
their occupation. "We all know that in Berlin the Muses and Graces have
their home; they seldom visit Vienna, for they are loyal and love to sit
at the feet of their master."
"Ah, sire, you speak of the past. Time was when the Muses were not
unpropitious; but now that I am an old man, they have proved inconstant,
and have fled from Sans-Souci forever. The Muses themselves are young,
and it is but natural that they should seek your majesty's protection. I
am thankful through your intervention, to be admitted once more to
Parnassus."
Just as the king was about to seat himself he remarked Kaunitz, who,
with his usual grave indifference, was advancing to a chair not far off.
Frederick turned smilingly to Joseph. "Your majesty and I," said he,
"might stand to-night as representatives of youthful and aged
sovereignty. We both need wisdom in our councils. Let us invite Prince
Kaunitz to sit between us."
The emperor bowed, and beckoned to the prince, who, having heard
distinctly what had been intended for his ears, could not suppress a
momentary expression of exultation. Never in his life bad lie made a bow
so profound as that with which he took the seat which a king had
resigned to him. He was so exultant that in the course of the evening he
was actually heard to laugh. The ballet began. Gods and goddesses
fluttered about the stage, Muses and Graces grouped themselves together
in attitudes of surpassing beauty; and finally, with one grand tableau,
composed of all the dancers, the curtain fell.
After the ballet came a concert. It was to open with an air from Gluck's
opera of "Alceste," sung in costume by the celebrated Bernasconi.
The orchestra played the introduction, and the curtain rose but the
prima donna did not appear. The leader looked toward the coulisses, but
in vain; and the audience began to express their impatience in audible
murmurs.
The curtain fell slowly, and the marshal of the emperor's household,
coming forward, spoke a few words to Joseph, in a low voice.
He turned to the king. "Sire, I have to apologize to you for this
unlucky contretemps. Signora Bernasconi has been taken suddenly sick."
"Oh!" replied Frederick, laughing, "I am quite au fait to the sudden
illness of prima donnas. But since I have ordered a half month's salary
to be withdrawn from every singer who falls sick on a night of
representation, my cantatrices at Berlin enjoy unprecedented health."
"Bernasconi must have been made sick by her anxiety to appear well in
your majesty's critical eyes."
"Do not believe it. These princesses of the stage are more capricious
than veritable princesses. Above all, the Italians."
"But Bernasconi," said Kaunitz, "is not an Italian. She belongs to a
noble Polish family."
"So much the worse," laughed Frederick. "That Polish blood is forever
boiling over. I am surprised that your highness should permit your
director to give to a Polish woman a role of importance. Wherever the
Poles go, they bring trouble and strife."
"Perhaps so, sire," replied Kaunitz; "but they are excellent actors, and
no people understand better how to represent heroes."
As he said this, Kaunitz drew out his jewelled snuff-box, enriched with
a medallion portrait of his imperial mistress, Maria Theresa.
"To represent heroes, I grant you; but just as we are beginning to feel
an interest in the spectacle of their heroism, To the stage-armor falls
off, the tin sword rattles, and we find that we were wasting our
sympathies upon a band of play-actors."
"Perhaps," said Kaunitz, as he dipped his long, white fingers into the
snuff-box, "perhaps we may live to see the stage break under them, and
then they may cease to be actors, and become lunatics."
Frederick's eagle eyes were fixed upon Kaunitz while he spoke, but the
minister still continued to play with his snuff-box.
"Prince," said he, laughing, "we have been antagonists for so many years
that we must celebrate our first meeting by a pledge of future
good-will. The Indians are accustomed at such times to smoke the calumet
of peace. Here we have tobacco under another form. Will you allow me a
pinch from your snuff-box?"
This was a token of such great condescension that even the haughty
Kaunitz was seen to blush with gratified vanity. With unusual eagerness,
he presented his snuff-box to the king.
The king took the snuff and as he did so, remarked, "This is the first
time I have ever taken snuff from another man's box."
"Pardon me, your majesty," replied Kaunitz, quickly. "Silesia was a
pinch from our snuff-box."
"True," said Frederick, laughing, "but the tobacco was so strong that it
has cost me many an uncomfortable sneeze; and nobody as ever been civil
enough to say, `Heaven bless you.'"
While the king and Kaunitz jested together, Signor Tobaldi had been
singing his aria; and now that he ceased, Frederick, for the first time,
became aware that any music had been going on.
"Your majesty," said the emperor, "has done injustice, for once, to a
prima donna. Bernasconi is really sick, but she has sent a substitute."
"These substitutes," said Frederick, "are always on the look-out for
such opportunities of sliding into notice; but unhappily they are not
often equal to the tasks they are so eager to perform."
"This substitute," said Joseph, "is no rival opera-singer. She is a dear
friend of Bernasconi's, who speaks of her singing with enthusiasm."
"Is that possible? Does one singer go into raptures over another? By all
means let us hear the phoenix."
The king looked toward the stage, and his countenance assumed at once an
expression of genuine interest.
Once more the orchestra began the introduction to Gluck's beautiful
aria. Meanwhile a tall and elegant person was seen to advance toward the
foot-lights. Her pure Grecian robe, half covered with a mantle of purple
velvet, richly embroidered in gold, fell in graceful folds froth her
snowy shoulders. Her dark hair, worn in the Grecian style, was confined
by a diadem of brilliants; and the short, white tunic which she wore
under her mantle, was fastened by a girdle blazing with jewels.
She was so transcendently beautiful that Frederick could not resist the
temptation of joining in the applause which greeted her entrance. She
seemed unconscious of the effect she produced, so earnestly and
anxiously were her large, lustrous eyes fixed upon the spot where
Frederick and Joseph were sitting together. She raised her graceful arms
as she began the prayer of Alceste; but her looks were riveted upon the
sovereigns, who represent divinity on earth. When she sang, the tones of
her glorious voice sank deep into the hearts of all who listened. Now it
was clear, pure, and vibrating, wooing the air like a clarionet--now it
caressed the ear like a speaking violin--and upon it poured forth
volumes of harmony that filled all space, as the the booming organ fills
the aisles of a vast and lofty cathedral. Gluck, the hypercritical
Gluck, would have been ravished to hear his music as she sang it; and
Frederick, who, up to this hour, had refused to acknowledge the genius
of the great German, now sat breathless with rapture, as he listened to
such music and such interpretation of music as never had been heard
before.
The Emperor Joseph was unmindful of it all. He had a vague idea of
celestial sounds that seemed to drown him in an ocean of melody; but he
heard not a note of Alceste's prayer. Every sense was stunned save
one--and that one was sight.
"It is she," murmured he, as the siren ceased to sing: "it is she, the
beautiful Pole. How resplendent she is to-night!" Then turning to
Kaunitz, whose observing eyes bad been watching his face and whose sharp
ears had caught his words, he whispered:
"Do you remember the bouquet that was thrown to me this morning?"
"I forget nothing your majesty deigns to communicate to me," replied
Kaunitz.
"This is she. Who can she be?"
"Ah!" exclaimed Kaunitz, slightly elevating his eyebrows. "The 'Souvenir
d'Eperies.' Now I comprehend Bernasconi's illness. She felt ill through
patriotism, that this adroit countrywoman of hers might have the
opportunity of being remarked by your majesty. I would not be at all
surprised if she went out of the way of prima donnas to attract your
majesty's attention. These Polish women are fanatics in their love of
country."
The emperor said nothing in reply. He scarcely listened. His eyes were
still upon the descending curtain that hid the mysterious beauty from
his sight. If her object had been to attract him, she had certainly
succeeded.
The audience were waiting for some signal from either Joseph or
Frederick that they might give vent to their admiration. The king
understood the general feeling, and began to applaud with his hands. In
a moment the applause became vociferous, and it did not cease until the
curtain drew up a second time, and the prima donna came forward to
receive her ovation.
For one moment they surveyed the enchanting singer, and then broke out
into another wild storm, in which the emperor joined so heartily that
his voice was heard above the din, crying out, "Brava! bravissima!"
The singer sought his glance, and meeting it, blushed deeply. Then,
coming forward a few steps, she began once more to sing.
Her song was a passionate appeal to the two princes, whom she addressed
openly, in behalf of Poland.
It was over, and not a sound was heard in the theatre. The audience
hung, in breathless anxiety, upon the verdict that must come from those
who had been addressed. They were so intent upon Frederick and Joseph
that they did not see the singer leave the stage. They were not
destined, however, to be enlightened or relieved, for no demonstration
was made in the imperial box.
But Joseph, rising from his seat, signed to the marshal of the household
to approach.
"Go, count," said he, "go quickly, and ask her name. Tell her it is the
emperor who desires to know her."
"Her name is Poland," said Kaunitz, in an absent tone. Then, addressing
Joseph, he continued: "Did I not tell your majesty that your adventure
was not to end with the throwing of a bouquet? I know these Polish
women; they coquette with every thing--above all, with the throes of
their dying fatherland."
The emperor smiled, but said nothing. He was watching the return of the
marshal of the household.
"Well, count, what is her name?" cried he earnestly.
"Sire, I am unable to find it out. The lady has left the theatre, and no
one here, not even the director, knows her name."
"Strange," said the emperor. "Let a messenger, then, be sent to
Bernasconi: she, of course, must know."
"Pardon me, your majesty, I have been to Bernasconi. She is here,
preparing to sing her second air. She has suddenly recovered and will
have the honor of appearing before your majesties in a few moments."
"But what said Bernasconi of the Polish singer?"
"She does not know her name, your majesty. She showed me a letter from
Colonel Dumourriez, the French plenipotentiary to the Polish Republic.
He designates her only as a Polish lady of noble birth, whose remarkable
vocal powers were worthy of your majesty's admiration."
"Do you hear that?" said Frederick to Kaunitz. "Do you hear that? The
French plenipotentiary sends this prima donna to sing before the
emperor. Vraiment, it seems that France is disgusted with war, and
intends to try her hand at sentiment. Petticoat-government is so
securely established there, that I suppose the French are about to throw
a petticoat over the heads of their allies. France and Poland are two
fevimes galantes."
"Yes, sire," replied Kaunitz, "but one of them is old and ugly. Lindaine
La Pologne is an old coquette, who puts on youthful airs, and thinks she
hides her wrinkles with paint."
"Does your highness, then, believe that her youth is forever past? Can
she never be rejuvenated?" asked Frederick, with a searching look at
Kaunitz's marble features.
"Sire, people who waste their youth in dissipation and rioting, have no
strength when the day of real warfare dawns."
"And it would seem that the Empress of Russia has some intention of
making a serious attack upon the poor old lady," said Frederick, while
for the second time he took a pinch from the snuff-box of the crafty
Austrian.
Meanwhile the concert was going on. Bernasconi, completely restored,
sang the beautiful air from "Orpheus and Eurydice," and Frederick
applauded as before. But the emperor sat silent and abstracted. His
thoughts were with that Polish woman, whose love of country had brought
her to Neustadt to remind him of the promises he had made to the
Confederates at Eperies.
"How enthusiastically she loves Poland!" said he to himself. "She will
of course find means to cross my path again, for she seeks to interest
me in the fate of her fatherland. The next time she comes, I will do
like the prince in the fairy-tale, I will strew pitch upon the
threshold, that she may not be able to escape from me again."
Kaunitz, too, was preoccupied with thoughts of the bewitching
Confederate, but the fact that she would be sure to come again was not
quite so consoling to him as to Joseph.
As soon as he returned home, he called for his private secretary, who
was one of the most dexterous detectives in Vienna.
"You will make inquiries at once as to the whereabout of the prima donna
who sang before me and their majesties to-night. Tomorrow at nine
o'clock I must know who she is, where she lodges, and what is her
business here."
CHAPTER, LXII.
FREDERICK THE GREAT AND PRINCE KAUNITZ.
The great review, which had been gotten up in honor of the King of
Prussia, was over. In this review Frederick had become acquainted with
the strength of the Austrian army, the superiority of its cavalry, and
the military capacity of the emperor who was its commander-in-chief.
The king had been loud in his praises of all three, and had embraced the
emperor in presence of the whole army.
Immediately after the review, Frederick sent a page to announce to
Prince Kaunitz that he woud be glad to see him in his own private
apartments.
Kaunitz at once declared his readiness to wait upon the king, and to the
unspeakable astonishment of his valet, had actually shortened his toilet
and had betrayed some indifference to the arrangement of his peruke. As
he left the room, his gait was elastic and active, and his countenance
bore visible marks of the excitement with which he was looking forward
to the coming interview.
But Kaunitz himself became suddenly aware of all this, and he set to
work to force back his emotion. The nearer he came to the king's suite
of rooms, the slower became his step and the calmer his mien. At last it
was tranquillized, and the minister looked almost as cold and
indifferent as ever.
Arrived at the door of the antechamber, he looked around, and having
convinced himself that no one was in sight, he drew from his
breast-pocket a small mirror which he always wore about his person.
Sharply he viewed himself therein, until gradually, as he looked, his
face resumed the stony aspect which like a thickening haze concealed his
emotions from other men's eyes.
"It is really not worth my while," thought he, "to get up an excitement
because I am about to have a conference with that small bit of royalty,
Frederick. If he should discover it, he might suppose that I, like the
rest of the world, am abashed in the presence of a king because he has
some military fame. No--no--what excites me is the fact that I am about
to write a bit of history; for this interview between Prussia and
Austria will be historical. It is the fate of Europe--that fate which I
hold in my hands, that stirs me with such unwonted emotion. This King of
Prussia has nothing to do with it. No doubt he hopes to hoodwink me with
flattery, but I shall work him to my ends, and force him to that line of
policy which I have long ago laid down for Austria's welfare."
Here the mirror was returned to his pocket, and he opened the door of
the anteroom. The sweet sounds of a flute broke in upon his ear as he
entered. The king's aide-de-camp came up and whispered that his
sovereign was accustomed to play on the flute daily, and that he never
failed even when in camp to solace his solitude with music.
Prince Kaunitz answered with a shrug, and pointing to the door, said,
"Announce me to his majesty."
The aide-de-camp opened the door and announced his highness Prince
Kaunitz.
The flute ceased, and the rich, musical voice of Frederick was heard to
say, "He can enter."
Kaunitz was not much pleased to receive a permission where he fancied
himself entitled to an invitation; but he had no alternative, so he
walked languidly forward while the officer held the door open.
"Shut the door, and admit no one during the visit of Prince Kaunitz,"
said the king. Then turning to the prince, he pointed to his flute. "I
suspect you are amused to see such an old fellow as I coquetting with
the fine arts; but I assure you that my flute is one of my trustiest
friends. She has never deceived me, and keeps my secrets faithfully. My
alliance with her is for life. Ask her, and she will tell you that we
live on terms of truest friendship."
"Unhappily, I do not understand the language of your lady-love. Your
majesty will perhaps allow me to turn my attention to another one of
your feminine allies, toward whom I shall venture to question your
majesty's good faith."
"Of what lady do you speak?" cried Frederick, eagerly.
"Of the Empress Catharine," replied Kaunitz, slightly inclining his
head.
"Oh!" said the king, laughing, "you dart like an arrow to the point, and
transfix me at once upon the barb of politics. Let us sit down, then.
The arm-chair which you are taking now, may boast hereater that it is
the courser which has carried the greatest statesman in Europe to a
field where he is sure to win new victories."
Kaunitz was careful to seat himself at the same time as the king, and
they both sat before a table covered with charts, papers, and books.
A short pause ensued. Both were collecting their energies for the
strife. The king, with his eagle eye, gazed upon the face of the astute
diplomatist while he, pretending not to see it, looked perfectly
oblivious of kings or emperors.
"So you will ask of Catharine whether I am a loyal ally or not'!" asked
the king at last.
"Yes, sire, for unluckily the Empress of Russia is the one who can give
me information."
"Why unluckily?"
"Because I grieve to see that a German prince is willing to form
alliances with her, who, if she could, would bring all Europe under her
yoke, and make every European sovereign her vassal. Russia grows hourly
more dangerous and more grasping. She foments discord and incites wars,
for she finds her fortune in the dissensions of other nations, and at
every misunderstanding between other powers, she makes a step toward the
goal whither she travels."
"And what is that goal?"
"The subjugation of all Europe," cried Kaunitz, with unusual warmth."
Russia's policy is that of unprincipled ambition; and if so far she has
not progressed in her lust of dominion, it is Austria, or rather the
policy which I dictate to Austria, that has checked her advance. It is I
who have restored the balance of power, by conquering Austria's
antipathy to France, by isolating haughty England, and hunting all
Europe against rapacious Russia. But Russia never loses sight of the
policy initiated by Peter the Great; and as I have stemmed the tide of
her aggression toward the west, it is overflowing toward the south and
the east. All, justice disregarding. Russian armies occupy Poland; and
before long the ships of Russia will swarm in the Black Sea and threaten
Constantinople. Russia is perforce a robber, for she is internally
exhausted, and unless she seeks new ports for her commerce, and new
sources of revenue, she is ruined."
"You err, I assure you," cried Frederick, eagerly. "Russia is in a
condition to sustain any burden; her revenues this year show an increase
over the last of five hundred thousand rubles."
"Then this increase comes probably from the million of subsidy which
your majesty has agreed to pay to Russia," said Kaunitz, bowing.
[Footnote: Ferrand, "History of the Dismemberment of Poland," vol. i.,
p. 84.] "Such rich tribute may well give her strength to attempt any
thing; but every thaler which your majesty pays into her treasury is a
firebrand which will one day consume all Europe. If indeed, as you say,
Russia is strong and formidable, it is for your majesty to hold her in
check; if she is exhausted, her alliance is not worth having."
[Footnote: Kaunitz's own words. Ferrand, vol. i., p. 108.]
"Your highness seems eager to have me break off my connection with
Russia," said the king, while a cloud passed over his face. "You wish to
prove that Russia is a power whose friendship is worthless and whose
enmity is to be despised. And yet it is well known to me how zealously
the Austrian ambassador was intriguing not long ago to induce Russia to
cast me aside and enter into an alliance with you. Your highness must
excuse me if I throw aside the double-edged blade of courtly
dissimulation. I am an old soldier and my tongue refuses to utter any
thing but unvarnished truth."
"If your majesty permits," replied Kaunitz with some warmth, "I, too,
will speak the unvarnished truth. You are pleased to charge me with
seeking to alienate Russia from Prussia while striving to promote an
alliance of the former with Austria. Will your majesty allow me to reply
to this accusation in full without interruption?"
"I will," replied Frederick, nodding his head. "Speak on, I shall not
put in a word."