Читать книгу Count Brühl - Józef Ignacy Kraszewski - Страница 3

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One beautiful autumn day, towards sunset, the last flourishes of a trumpet calling the huntsmen together, resounded through a forest of beech trees. The group of court huntsmen passed along the wide highway that divided this ancient wilderness, accompanied by men armed with boar-spears and carrying nets; the horsemen wore green dresses with gold braid, and hats ornamented with black feathers: in the centre of the party were waggons laden with venison and adorned with green boughs. The hunt must have been successful, for the huntsmen were in high spirits, and from the waggons protruded the horns of deer, and the heads of boars with bloody tusks.

The retinue of the lord came first; there were beautiful horses, and several lady riders with lovely faces. All were dressed as for a festival, for hunting was a favourite amusement with Augustus II, who at that time ruled more or less happily over Saxony and Poland.

The King himself led the hunt, and at his side rode his eldest son, the prince then dearest to Saxony, and the one towards whom the eyes of the nation were directed with expectation. The King looked well, despite his advanced age, and rode his horse like a knight; whilst his son, who also looked well but whose face wore a sweeter expression, looked rather like his younger brother. A numerous and brilliant court surrounded the two lords. They were to pass the night at Hubertsburg, where the Prince would offer hospitality to his father, for the hunting castle belonged to him. The Princess Josepha, daughter-in-law to the King, and daughter of the Imperial house of Hapsburg, recently married to Frederick, awaited them at Hubertsburg. The King's court was so numerous that it was impossible to lodge it in the castle, and for this reason tents had been pitched in the grove for the greater part of the retinue. The tables were already laid for supper, and the moment the King entered the castle, the huntsmen dispersed to find the lodgings assigned to them.

Dusk began to fall; the tents were full of bustle and animation, the young men's laughter, hitherto restrained by the presence of the King, now resounded more freely. They were thirsty, and drinking commenced although the signal for supper had not been given. Soon they began disputing as to which was the prettiest lady, who was the best marksman, and to whom the King had shown most favour. The Prince was the hero of the day; a boar was rushing on him, and he had shot it in the forehead. Everyone admired his presence of mind as with steady arm he aimed and fired. When the huntsmen rushed forward to dispatch the wild beast with their hunting knives, it already lay on the ground bathed in its own blood. On this, King Augustus had kissed his son on the forehead approvingly, and the Prince had pressed his father's hand to his lips, but he remained as calm and composed after the victory as he had been before. The only sign of good humour he had shown was, that he ordered a pipe to be brought him, and blew forth a larger cloud than usual. In those times men had begun to use that now universal plant--tobacco. Augustus the Strong smoked a great deal, his son, Prince Frederick, was a passionate smoker. During a feast the men could not forego their pipes. At the court of the Prussian King, pipes were served out to everyone, and the man who felt sick from smoking was the laughingstock of the others. It was the height of fashion to suck at a pipe from morning till night. The women despised the habit, but their aversion did not prevent the men from indulging to excess in the fragrant weed. Only the youngsters were forbidden to smoke, the habit being coupled with such vices as gambling and drinking. Therefore there were no pipes under the tents.

The weary horsemen dismounted, and seated themselves wherever they could, some on the ground, some on benches, and others on rugs. Arrangements had been made for another hunt on the following day, in another part of the forest, and orders had been given for everyone to be in readiness.

Not very far from the groups of elderly gentlemen, a very handsome youth walked to and fro from the road leading to the castle. He might have been recognised by his dress as a page in the service of the King. His noble carriage, and slightly effeminate figure, attracted the attention even of the most indifferent. His dress was elegant, his wig carefully arranged; his pink and white face beneath was almost as beautiful as that of a girl about to smile; he had intelligent eyes that could be merry or sad, brilliant or dull; they could even express that which was not in the soul.

This beautiful youth attracted like an enigma. Almost everyone, the King not excepted, loved him, yet, while both polite and useful, there was not a more retiring person in the court. He never boasted, never attempted to show his superiority, but if asked to do anything he did it easily, quickly, and with exceeding intelligence.

He was a petty noble from Thuringia, the youngest of four brothers, the Brühls von Gangloffs-Sammern. Having sold his small mortgaged estate, his father became a councillor at the little court of Weissenfelds; and as he did not know what to do with his son he placed him in the service of the Princess Frederick Elizabeth, who generally resided at Leipzig. The Princess at that time came constantly to Weissenfelds for market days; Augustus the Strong was also very fond of these markets, and it is said that on one occasion the young page attracted the attention of the King by his beautiful face. The Princess willingly gave him to the monarch.

It was wonderful that a boy who had never seen so magnificent a court, so much etiquette, should understand his duties so well from the first day, that he surpassed the older pages in his zeal and ability. The King smiled kindly on him; he was pleased with the humility of the boy, who looked into his eyes, guessed his thoughts and worshipped the majesty of the Roi-Soleil.

Those who served with him, envied him, but were soon captivated by his sweetness, modesty, and readiness to serve them too. They had no fears; such a modest boy could never rise very high. He was poor, and the Brühl family, although, of ancient lineage, had so fallen, that its rich relations had forgotten it. The youth therefore had neither influence nor wealth to advance him, merely a sweet and smiling face.

And indeed, he was very beautiful. The women, especially the older ones, looked at him coquettishly, and he lowered his eyes bashfully. Malicious words, the wit of pages, characteristics these of the young men of the court, never escaped his lips. Brühl admired the lords, the dignitaries, the ladies, his equals, and even the King's lackeys, to whom he was invariably courteous, as though already aware of the great secret that the greatest things are often accomplished through the meanest persons, that lackeys have quietly overthrown ministers, whilst the ministers could do nothing against them. All this the lucky youth guessed through the instinct with which Mother Nature had endowed him.

At that moment, as Henry Brühl walked alone up and down the path leading from the castle to the tent, those who knew him might have said that he indulged in this solitary stroll to avoid being in the way of others, while, being seen of everyone, he would be in readiness for any service. Such persons are favoured by good fortune. As he thus walked aimlessly to and fro there came from the castle a young good-looking boy, about the same age, but different in dress and mien to modest Brühl.

It was evident that the new-comer was well satisfied with himself. He was tall and strong, his black eyes looked forth sharply. He walked swiftly with lordly gait, having one hand placed in his richly embroidered vest and the other hidden in the shirt of his green braided hunting dress. His features also were quite different to those of Brühl; the latter looked more like a courtier, the former like a soldier.

Everyone he met on his way bowed to him, and greeted him kindly, for from early youth he had been the Prince's companion. His name was Count Alexandre Sulkowski, he had been brought to the court of Frederick as a page, and was already a prominent huntsman. And this meant a great deal, for the Prince, to whom hunting was rather a serious occupation than a distraction, entrusted him with what he cherished most in the world.

Sulkowski was respected and dreaded, for although Augustus II with his health and strength seemed to be immortal, yet sooner or later the god was bound to die like any other mortal. Thus Sulkowski, in his relation to the new rising sun, was regarded as a star shining on the horizon of Saxony.

On seeing Sulkowski, the page assumed his modest mien, bowed slightly, smiled sweetly, and seemed as pleased as though he had met the most beautiful woman in the court of the King. Sulkowski received this mute and respectful greeting with dignified benevolence. He slackened his pace, and drawing near to Brühl, addressed him gaily:

'How are you, Henry? What are you thinking about in this solitude? Happy boy, you can rest, whilst I have much to do.'

'If the Count would order me to help him?'

'No thank you. I must fulfil my own duties! Work for such a guest as our gracious lord is agreeable.'

He sighed slightly.

'Well,' he continued, 'the hunt was successful.'

'Yes, very successful indeed,' replied Brühl. 'His Majesty has not been in such a good humour for a long time.'

Sulkowski bent close to Brühl's ear.

'And who rules now in the chamber?'

'I do not know. At present there is an interregnum.'

'That's impossible!' said Sulkowski laughing. 'Is it not Dieskau?'

'I don't know.'

'Is it possible, that you, the King's page, do not know?'

Brühl looked at him, and smiled.

'A faithful page should not know anything.'

'I understand,' said Sulkowski, 'but between ourselves--'

Brühl drew near the Count, and whispered some thing in his ear.

'Intermezzo!' said Sulkowski. 'It seems that after so many love affairs, that have cost our dear lord so much money, and caused him so much pain, intermezzo will do.'

Sulkowski was no longer in a hurry, either to go to the tents, whither his steps appeared to be bent, or to return to the castle. Taking Brühl's arm, an action which evidently gave the page great satisfaction, he walked with him.

'I must rest awhile,' said he, 'and although we are both too weary to converse, I am glad to be with you.'

'I do not feel tired,' replied Brühl, 'when I am in your company. From the first moment when I was so fortunate as to meet you, I conceived for you, my dear Count, deep respect, and permit me also to add, the most affectionate, friendship. Must I tell you the truth? Well then, I came here with a presentiment--with a hope--that I might have the pleasure of seeing you.'

The Count looked into Brühl's face, which was beaming with joy.

'I can assure you,' said he, 'that I am not ungrateful. In the court such disinterested friendship is rare, and if we help each other, we can rise to high appointments.'

Their eyes met, Brühl nodded.

'The King is fond of you.'

'Do you think so?' asked Brühl, modestly.

'I can assure you of it; I have heard it from his Majesty's own lips; he praised your zeal and intelligence. As for me, the Prince loves me, and I can say with pride that he calls me his friend. I doubt if he could get along without me.'

'Yes,' said Brühl with animation, 'you were so fortunate as to be the Prince's companion, from the time he was a mere boy, and you have had time to win his heart; and who would not love you if he knew you well? As for me, I am a stranger here, though I am thankful to the Princess for placing me at the King's court. I try to show my gratitude, but the parquetry of a court is very slippery. The more zeal I show for the lord, whom I respect and love, the more jealousy I excite. For every smile bestowed on me by the lord, I am repaid with the venom of envy. So one must tremble when one might be the happiest of mortals.'

Sulkowski listened with an air of distraction.

'Yes! That's true,' he rejoined quietly. 'But you have much in your favour and no reason to fear. I observe that you have adopted an excellent method: you are modest and patient. The principal thing at court is to remain passive, then you will advance; he who is restless soon falls.'

'Your advice is most precious,' exclaimed Brühl. 'I am indeed fortunate to have such an adviser.'

The Count seemed flattered at the exclamation, he smiled proudly, pleased at the acknowledgment of his own powers of which he was fully persuaded.

'Don't be afraid, Brühl,' he said. 'Go forward boldly and count on me.'

Those words seemed to arouse Brühl's enthusiasm, he clasped his hands as though in prayer, and his face was radiant; then he extended a hand to Sulkowski in token of his gratitude. The Count magnanimously took it with the condescending air of a benefactor.

At that moment the trumpet resounded from the castle; the sound must have meant something to the young favourite, for signing to his friend that he must hasten, he ran towards the castle.

Brühl remained alone, hesitating as to what he should do with himself. The King had granted him leave for the evening, consequently he was entirely free. Supper had begun beneath the tents. At first he had intended to go there and enjoy himself with the others, but after looking on for a moment, he turned into a side path, and walked slowly and thoughtfully to the forest. Probably he wished to be alone with his thoughts, although his youthful eyes were not suggestive of deep speculation. It might be nearer truth to think that in a court full of love intrigues, he too had some love affair; but on his serene face no trace of such trouble could be detected. Brühl did not sigh, his look was cold and calm, he frowned, and appeared rather to be calculating something, than struggling against a particular sentiment.

He passed tents, horses, and packs of hounds; he passed the fires, built up by the people assembled for the hunt, who were eating the black bread they had brought with them in their bags, whilst venison was roasting for the nobles. The great majority of these were Slavs, called Wends, and they chatted quietly together in a tongue incomprehensible to the Germans. Several huntsmen kept guard over them, and whilst supper was prepared for the hounds, no one took the least trouble to ask these people if they had had anything to eat. Their supper of bread and water was soon finished, and they lay down on the grass to rest, that they might be in readiness for the work of the morrow.

Scarcely glancing at them, Brühl walked quietly forward. It was a lovely evening, peaceful and bright, and had it not been for the yellow leaves falling from the beech-trees, one might have thought it was summer.

Beyond the grove in which they were encamped all was still; the noise scarcely penetrated thither; trees concealed the castle; one could have imagined oneself far from the haunts of man.

Arrived here Brühl raised his head, and breathed more freely; his face assumed a different expression; it lost its childish charm, and an ironical smile flitted across it. He thought he was alone, and was greatly surprised, almost frightened, at seeing two men lying beneath an enormous beech-tree. He retreated, and looked at them attentively. Those two men, lying beneath a tree not far from the King's camp, appeared to him suspicious characters. Beside them lay their travelling bags and sticks.

The dusk prevented him from seeing their faces very clearly, or noticing what clothes they wore, but after awhile Brühl was able to distinguish that they were young men.

What could they have been doing so close to the King? Curiosity, fear and suspicion, kept him rooted to the spot. He wondered whether it would not be right to return to the tents and give warning of the presence of two suspicious strangers. He changed his mind however, and drawn more by instinct than reason, moved forward, and approached so near to the strangers that they could see him. His appearance must have astonished them, for one of them rose hastily, and seemed about to ask what he was doing there.

Without waiting for this question, Brühl advanced a few steps further, and asked severely:

'What are you doing here?'

'We are resting,' replied the man. 'Is it forbidden here for travellers to rest?'

The voice was mild, and the speech indicated an educated man.

'The King's court and his Majesty in person are not far distant,' said Brühl.

'Are we in the way?' asked the stranger, who did not appear to be in the least alarmed.

'No,' answered Brühl with animation, 'but if you were noticed here, you might be suspected of evil designs.'

The man who remained seated laughed and rose, and when he came out from beneath the shadow of the trees, Brühl beheld a good-looking man, with long hair and a noble mien. By his dress he was easily to be recognised as a student from one of the German universities.

'What are you doing here?' Brühl repeated.

'We are wandering about that we may thank God by admiring nature and breathing the air of the forest, and that in this quiet we may lull our souls to prayer,' the youth said slowly. 'Night surprised us here; we should not have known of the presence of the King and his court, had it not been for the noise of the huntsmen.'

The words as well as the way they were pronounced struck Brühl. The man seemed to be from another world.

'Permit me, sir,' the student continued quietly, 'to introduce myself to you who seem to have some official position. I am Nicolaus Louis, Count and Lord of Zinzendorf and Pottendorf, at present studiosus, searching for the source of wisdom and light, a traveller, who has lost his way in the maze of this world.'

On hearing the name, Brühl looked at the stranger more attentively. The moon lit up the beautiful face of the student. They both remained silent for a time, as though not knowing what to say.

'I am Henry Brühl, his Majesty's page.'

Zinzendorf measured him with his eyes.

'I pity you very much,' he said sighing.

'Why?' asked the astonished page.

'Because to be courtier means to be a slave, to be a page means to be a servant, and although I respect the King, I prefer to serve the King of Heaven, to love Jesus Christ, our Saviour. You found us when we were praying, when we were trying to unite our thoughts with our Lord, who has saved us through His blood.'

Brühl was so astonished that he moved away from the youth, who went on pathetically, though sweetly:

'I know that to you, in whose ears the prattle and laughter of the court still ring, this must seem strange and perchance irreverent, but I consider it my duty, every time I have an opportunity, to speak as a Christian should.'

Brühl remained silent. Zinzendorf approached him.

'It is the hour of prayer ... listen, the forest rustles, glory to God on high! The brook whispers the prayer, the moon shines forth to light the prayer of nature, why then should not our hearts unite with our Saviour at this solemn moment?'

The astonished page listened, and appeared not to understand.

'You behold an odd, whimsical fellow,' said Zinzendorf, 'but you meet many odd, whimsical society men, and you forgive their fancies; can you not then have some indulgence for an enthusiasm arising from the pure source of the soul?'

'Yes,' murmured Brühl. 'I am pious myself, but--'

'But you keep your piety hidden in the secret places of your heart, fearing to show it to profane persons. As for me, I show it forth like a flag, because I am ready to defend it with my life and my blood. Brother in Christ, if the life of the court weigh heavily on you, for I cannot otherwise explain your solitary evening wandering, sit with us, and let us pray together. I feel the need of prayer, and when it is made stronger by two or three praying together, it might reach the throne of Him who gave His blood for us worms.'

Brühl moved away, as though afraid the strangers would detain him.

'I am accustomed to pray alone,' he replied, 'besides my duties call me, you must therefore excuse me.'

He made a gesture in the direction whence noise could be heard.

'I pity you,' exclaimed Zinzendorf. 'If we could only sing a prayer--'

The page interrupted him: 'The grand huntsman, or some chamberlain might hear us, and order us to be put in prison, not here, for there is no prison here, but we should be taken to Dresden, and put in the Frauenkirche guardhouse.'

He shrugged his shoulders as he spoke, bowed lightly, and would have departed, had not Zinzendorf barred his way.

'Is it true, that it is forbidden to be here?' he asked.

'Your presence might bring suspicion on you, and cause you some trouble. I advise you to be off. Beyond Hubertsburg there is an inn, where you would be more comfortable than beneath this tree.'

'Which road shall we take, so that we may not be in the way of his Majesty?' asked Zinzendorf.

Brühl pointed with his hand, and said:

'It would be difficult for you to find the highway but if you will accept me as your guide, I am at your service.'

Zinzendorf and his companion picked up their sticks and bags, and followed Brühl, who seemed by no means pleased at the meeting. Zinzendorf had had time to cool down from the state of enthusiasm in which the page had found him. It was evident that he was a man accustomed to the best society, for he had excellent manners. Having grown more calm, he endeavoured to excuse himself for the speech he had made.

'Do not be surprised,' said he calmly, 'we call ourselves Christians but in reality we are heathens, despite the promise we made at our baptism. I consider it the duty of every Christian to preach. The aim of my life is not only to preach, but also to set a good example. What is the use of preaching, if deeds do not follow our words? Catholics and Protestants, we are all heathens in our way of living. We do not worship gods, but we make sacrifices to them. A few priests quarrel about dogmas, but our Saviour's blood is wasted, for people do not wish to be saved.'

He sighed. At that moment they came in sight of the camp, where drinking was at its height. Zinzendorf looked towards it, and exclaimed:

'This is a veritable bacchanalia! It seems to me, that I hear evoe! Let us hasten! I have no desire to hear and see Christians enjoying themselves in so heathenish a way.'

Brühl made no reply. They passed by the camp, and soon reached the highway. Having pointed out the road to the student, he ran quickly to the lighted tent.

Zinzendorf's words were still resounding in his ears when he perceived a strange sight in the tent. It is true, that in those times it was nothing surprising, but very few people made such an exhibition of themselves in public, as did the military councillor Pauli that evening. He was lying on the ground in the centre of the tent; beside him there stood a large, empty, big-bellied bottle; his face was crimson; his dress unbuttoned and torn; while beside him sat a hound, evidently his favourite, licking his face and whining.

Those who stood around were splitting their sides with laughter.

It was no unusual thing for the military councillor Pauli, whose duty it was to be near the King ready to write his letters, to be thus overcome with wine, but never was he so drunk or so much laughed at as on that night.

As soon as Brühl noticed it, he rushed to the unfortunate man and lifted him from the ground. The others, having come to their senses, helped him, and with a great effort they put the councillor on a heap of hay lying in the corner of the tent. Pauli opened his eyes, looked at the surrounding faces, and mumbled:

'Brühl, thank you--I know everything, I understand, I am not drunk--You are a good boy, Brühl, I thank you.'

Then he closed his eyes, sighed and muttered, 'Hard service!' and fell asleep.