Consuelo, page 58
"'An assemblage of so many handsome fellows surprises you?' said Frederick. 'Well, there is one thing that surprises me still more!'
"'What is that?' said the young duke.
"'It is, how it happens that you and I are safe in the midst of them,' replied the king."
"Dear baron," exclaimed Count Hoditz, "that is the reverse of the medal. Nothing can be accomplished with men except by natural means. How could Frederick become the first captain of his time if he were as mild as a dove? Hold! Say no more. You will force me, his natural enemy, to take his part against you, his aide-de-camp and favorite."
"From the capricious manner in which he treats his favorites, one may judge how he acts with his slaves. Let us speak no more of him—you are right, because when I think of it I am seized with a diabolical desire to return to the woods and strangle, with my own hands, his zealous purveyors of human flesh, whom I have through a stupid and cowardly prudence allowed to escape."
The generous enthusiasm of the baron pleased Consuelo; she listened with interest to his animated pictures of military life in Prussia, and not being aware that personal malice mingled somewhat with his courageous indignation, she only saw in it the evidence of a noble character. There was, nevertheless, real greatness in the soul of Trenck. This proud and handsome young man was not born to creep. There was a great difference in this respect between him and his impromptu traveling friend, Count Hoditz. The latter, having been during infancy the terror and despair of his preceptors, had been left to himself; and although he had passed the age of sowing his wild oats, there was something boyish in his manners and demeanor which contrasted strangely with his Herculean stature and handsome features, somewhat worn indeed by forty years of dissipation and excess. The superficial information which he sometimes displayed was picked up in romances, popular philosophy, and the theater. He pretended to be an artist, though he was as deficient in discernment and depth in that as in every thing else. Nevertheless his grand air, and his exquisite condescension, soon impressed the young Hadyn, who preferred him to the baron, perhaps on account of the preference which Consuelo displayed for the latter.
The baron on the contrary was well-informed; and if the atmosphere of courts and the effervescence of youth had sometimes led him astray, he had nevertheless preserved those independent sentiments and just and noble principles which are developed by a good education, followed by serious study. His lofty character may indeed have been impaired by the caresses and flatteries of power; but his ardent and impetuous temperament had never stooped so low but that on the least injustice it bounded up fiery and brilliant as ever. Frederick's handsome page had tasted of the poisoned cup; but love, however rash, had animated and exalted his courage and his perseverance. Pierced to the heart, he had not the less raised his head, and braved to his face the tyrant who would have humbled him.
At the period of our story he appeared to be about five-and-twenty years of age. His dark brown hair, which he would not sacrifice to the childish discipline of Frederick, clustered in thick curls around his lofty brow. His figure was superb, his eyes sparkling, his mustachios black as jet, his hand white as alabaster, although of Herculean strength, and his voice fresh and masculine, as were his countenance, his ideas, and the hopes of his love. Consuelo reflected upon this mysterious attachment which he had every moment on his lips, and which she no longer thought absurd, when she observed by degrees, in his outbursts and in his reserve, the mixture of natural impetuosity and well-founded distrust which made him continually at war with his destiny and with himself. She experienced in spite of herself a lively desire to know the queen of this fine young man's affections, and offered deep and romantic vows for the happiness of the lovers. She did not find the journey in the least tedious, though she expected it would prove so face to face with two strangers of a rank so different from her own. She had contracted at Venice the idea, and at Riesenburg the habits, of refined life—those polite and quiet manners, and those choice expressions, which constituted the better part of what was then called good society. Keeping herself in the background, and not speaking unless when spoken to, she felt herself much at her ease, as she reflected on all she heard. Neither the count nor baron appeared to have seen through her disguise, and, as for the latter, he paid no attention either to her or Joseph. If he occasionally addressed them, it was while speaking to the count; and being carried away by the subject, he at last was conscious of nothing but his own thoughts.
As to the count, he was by turns grave as a monarch and gay as a French marchioness. He drew his tablets from his pocket, and took notes with the serious air of a philosopher or a diplomatist; then he read them over in a humming voice, and Consuelo saw that they were little verses, written in a gallant and pleasing French. Sometimes he recited them to the baron, who declared them admirable without having listened to them. Sometimes he consulted Consuelo with a good-natured air, and asked her with false modesty, "What do you think of that, my little friend? You understand French, do you not?"
Consuelo, impatient of this pretended condescension, which appeared to seek to dazzle her, could not resist the temptation of mentioning two or three faults which she found in a quatrain "To Beauty." Her mother had taught her to pronounce and enunciate well those languages which she herself sang easily and with a certain elegance, and Consuelo, studious, and seeking in all things harmony, measure, and the neatness which her musical organization rendered easy to her, had found in books the key and rules of these various languages. She had examined prosody especially with care, exercising herself in translating lyric poetry, and in adjusting foreign words to national airs, in order to become mistress of the rhythm and accent. She had also succeeded in comprehending the rules of versification in several languages, and it was not difficult for her to detect the errors of the Moravian poet.
Astonished at her learning, but not able to resolve upon doubting his own, Hoditz consulted the baron, who confidently gave judgment in favor of the little musician. From this moment the count occupied himself exclusively with her, but without appearing to suspect her real age or sex. He only asked where he had been educated, that he knew the laws of Parnassus so well.
"At the charity school of the singing academy at Venice," replied she, laconically.
"It would appear that the studies of that country are more severe than those of Germany. And your comrade, where did he study?"
"At the cathedral of Vienna," replied Joseph.
"My children," resumed the count, "you have both mnch intelligence and quickness. At our first resting-place I wish to examine you upon music, and if your proficiency corresponds with the promise given by your faces and manners, I will engage you for the orchestra of my theater at Roswald. I wish, at any rate, to present you to the princess my spouse. What do you say? Ha! it would be a fortune for children like you."
Consuelo had been seized with a strong desire to laugh on hearing the count propose to examine Haydn and herself in music, and she could only make a respectful inclination, while she used all her efforts to preserve a serious countenance. Joseph, feeling more forcibly the advantageous consequences of a new protection for himself, thanked him, and did not refuse. The count resumed his tablets, and read to Consuelo half of a little Italian opera, singularly detestable and full of barbarisms, which he intended to set to music himself, and to have represented on his wife's fête-day, by the actors of the theater belonging to his château, or rather his residence; for, considering himself a prince in the right of his margravine, he never used any other phrase.
Consuelo pushed Joseph's elbow from time to time, to make him remark the count's blunders, and, overcome by ennui, thought to herself that to be seduced by such madrigals, the famous beauty of the hereditary margraviate of Bareith, with the appanage of Culmbach, must be a very stupid person, notwithstanding her titles, her beauty, and her years.
While reading and declaiming, the count kept crunching little comfits to moisten his throat, and incessantly offered them to the young travelers, who, having eaten nothing since the day before and dying of hunger, accepted, for want of a better, this aliment, fitted rather to deceive than to satisfy their appetite, saying to themselves that the count's sugar-plums and his rhymes were very insipid nourishment.
Toward evening the spires and clock-towers of the city of Passau, which Consuelo in the morning thought she would never reach, were visible. This prospect, after so many dangers and disquietudes, was almost as delightful to her as that of Venice had formerly been, and when she had crossed the Danube, she could not help grasping Joseph's hand with pleasure.
"Is he your brother?" said the count.
"Yes, my lord," replied Consuelo, answering at random in order to rid herself of his curiosity.
"Yet you are not in the least like each other," said the count.
"Oh, there are many children who do not resemble their father," said Joseph, gaily.
"But you were not brought up together?"
"No, my lord. In our unsettled profession we are educated how and where we can."
"Yet I cannot help thinking," said the count to Consuelo, lowering his voice, "that you are of gentle birth; every thing in your manner bespeaks a natural elevation."
"I do not know how I was born," she answered, laughing; "I must be descended from a long line of musicians, since I love nothing on earth but music."
"Why are you in the dress of a Moravian peasant?"
"Because, my clothes being worn out, I purchased this suit in one of the fairs."
"You have been in Moravia, then? at Roswald, perhaps?"
"I have seen it at a distance," replied Consuelo, slily, "but without daring to approach your proud domain, your statues, your cascades, your gardens, your mountains, your fairy palace!"
"You saw it all then?" exclaimed the count, astonished, forgetting that Consuelo had heard him describe the beauties of his residence in detail for the last two hours; "oh, you would be delighted to see it again, I assure you!"
"I am dying to see it once more, since I have had the pleasure of knowing you," said Consuelo, who felt an irresistible desire to revenge herself for the infliction of his opera.
She bounded lightly from the bark in which they had crossed the river, exclaiming in a German accent:
"I salute thee, O Passau!"
The barouche conducted them to the dwelling of a rich nobleman, a friend of the count's, then absent, but whose house was placed at his disposal. The household was expecting them, and supper being ready, it was immediately served up. The count, who was delighted at the conversation of his little musician, for so he called Consuelo, would have wished to invite them to the table, but the fear of annoying the baron by this breach of etiquette prevented him. Consuelo and Joseph were well satisfied to sup in the servants' hall, and made no objection to sit down along with the valets. Haydn, indeed, had never held a higher place in the fêtes of the nobility to which he had been invited; and although a sense of the dignity of his art gave him sufficient elevation of character to understand the outrage inflicted on him, he recollected, without any feeling of shame, that his mother had been cook to Count Harrach, the lord of his village. In fact, at a later period, when arrived at the very zenith of his genius, Haydn was no better appreciated by his patrons as a man, although his fame as an artist was spread all over Europe. He lived for five-and-twenty years in the service of Prince Esterhazy; and when we say service, we do not mean merely as a musician, for Paër saw him, a napkin on his arm, and a sword by his side, standing behind his master's chair and performing the duties of major-domo, or principal domestic.
Consuelo had not eaten a meal in company with domestics since her travels in childhood with her mother the Zingara. She was greatly amused, therefore, with the borrowed airs and graces of these aristocratic lackeys, who felt aggrieved at the company of two wandering musicians, and who did not hesitate to thrust them to the foot of the table, and help them to the worse morsels—which, however, thanks to their youth and good appetite, they did not the less enjoy. Their contented air having disarmed their haughty entertainers, the latter proceeded to ask for a little music by way of desert. Joseph revenged himself by playing the violin very willingly; and Consuelo, now completely recovered from her agitation of the morning, was about to sing, when intelligence was brought that the count and baron desired a little music for themselves.
It was impossible to refuse, after the generous aid they had received from the two noblemen. Consuelo would have considered any want of complaisance, or any excuse either of fatigue or hoarseness, as the basest ingratitude, since, in fact, her voice had already reached the gentlemen's ears.
She followed Joseph, who was already prepared to take every thing which happened in good part, and when they had entered the saloon, where, lighted by a score of wax tapers, the two noblemen were engaged in finishing their last bottle of Tokay, they stood near the door, and began to sing the little Italian duets which they had rehearsed on the mountains.
"Attention!" said Consuelo, slily, to Joseph. "Consider that his excellency the count is about to examine us as to our proficiency in music. Let us acquit ourselves to his satisfaction."
The count was much flattered by this observation. As for the baron, he had placed the portrait of his mysterious Dulchinea on the reverse of his plate, and was gazing at it, without heeding what was going on.
Consuelo took care not to display the full powers of her voice. Her pretended sex hardly agreed with her liquid and flute-like accents, and her apparent age did not warrant the expectation of any decided talent. She assumed the hoarse and somewhat worn voice of a young lad who has prematurely injured his tone by singing in the open air. It was an amusement for her to counterfeit in this manner the awkward attempts and rude flourishes which she had so often heard the street singers of Venice practice, but though the parody was excellent, still she could not hide her superior taste, and the duet was sung with such force and originality, that the baron, himself an excellent musician and artist, replaced his portrait in his bosom, raised his head, and ended by applauding vociferously, exclaiming that it was the sweetest music he had ever heard. As for Count Hoditz, who was full of Fuchs and Rameau, and other classic authors, he had less relish for this kind of performance. In his eyes the baron was a sort of barbarian, and the two young people intelligent indeed, but requiring his efforts to raise them from the depths of their ignorance. His ruling idea was to form his own artists, and he said in a sententious manner, shaking his head the while:
"It is not so bad, but there is a great deal to mend. Come, come, we will correct all that."
He looked upon Joseph and Consuelo, in imagination, as his already, and as forming part of his choir. He then asked Haydn to play the violin; and as the latter had no reason to conceal his abilities, he executed a piece of his own composition to admiration. This time the count was highly satisfied.
"Your position is fixed," said he. "You shall be first violin; but you must also practice on the viola and the viole d'amour. I will teach you the manner of execution."
"Is his highness the baron also satisfied with my comrade?" said Consuelo to Trenck, who had relapsed into his reverie.
"So much so," replied he, "that if I make any stay at Vienna, I will have no other master."
"I will teach you the viole d'amour," replied the count, "and I expect that you will give me the preference."
"I prefer the violin, and this professor." replied the baron, with perfect frankness.
He took the violin, and played from memory, with great purity of tone and expression, several passages from the piece which Joseph had just performed.
"I wish to show you," said he, with great modesty, "that I am only fit to be your pupil, but that, with attention and docility, I might learn."
Consuelo requested him to continue, and he complied without affectation. He had talent, taste, and skill. Hoditz praised his performance beyond measure.
"It is but a poor thing," replied Trenck, "for it is my own. I like it, however, inasmuch as it pleased the princess."
The count made a hideous grimace, to warn him of his imprudence. Trenck paid no attention, but, lost in thought, ran the bow over the strings absently; then, throwing the instrument on the table, he rose, and strode up and down the apartment, pressing his hand on his forehead. At last he returned toward the table, and said:
"Good-evening, my dear count. I am obliged to set out ere daybreak; the carriage which I have ordered is to call for me at three. Most probably I shall not see you again till we meet in Vienna. I shall be happy to see you there, to thank you for the pleasure I have received in your company, which I never can forget."
They pressed each other's hands repeatedly, and as the baron left the apartment, he slipped some pieces of gold into Joseph's hand, saying:
"This is on occount of my future lessons in Vienna. You will find me at the Prussian embassy."
He nodded to Consuelo as he passed, while he whispered in her ear:
"Should I ever find you as drummer or trumpeter in my regiment, we will desert together. Dost understand?"
Then saluting the count once more, he left the apartment.
CHAPTER LXXIV
AS soon as Count Hoditz was alone with his musicians, he felt more at ease, and became quite communicative. His mania was to set up for a chapel-master, and to play the impresario. He resolved, therefore, to commence Consuelo's education at once.
"Come here," said he, "and sit beside me. We are alone; and need not sit so far apart. And do you also be seated," exclaimed he, turning to Joseph, "and profit by my instructions. You have no notion of a shake," continued he, turning to the great cantatrice; "listen, while I show you."
Here he ventured on a commonplace passage, in which he introduced that ornament several times after a very vulgar fashion. Consuelo amused herself by repeating the passage with the shake reversed.
