Consuelo, p.51
Consuelo, page 51
"And besides," said Consuelo, interrupting him, "old teachers do not like to see their pupils appear to understand faster than they do themselves. But tell me your name, my child."
"I am called Joseph."
"Joseph what?"
"Joseph Haydn."
"I will endeavor to recollect this name, so that, if one day you should turn out a distinguished man, I shall know what to think of the hatred of your master, and the interest with which you inspire me. But proceed, if you please."
Young Haydn resumed his narrative in the following words, while Consuelo, struck by the similarity of their artistic and poverty-stricken destiny, looked attentively at the countenance of the young chorister. His insignificant sallow countenance became singularly animated during his recital; his blue eyes sparkled with genial fire, and every thing he said and did bespoke no ordinary mind.
CHAPTER LXVI
"WHATEVER may have been the cause of Master Reuter's antipathy, he displayed it toward me very harshly and for a very trifling cause. I happened to have a pair of new scissors, which, like a child as I was, I tried on every thing I could lay my hands on. One of my companions having turned his back toward me, and his long cue, of which he was very vain, dangling across the chalked notes on my slate, a fatal idea came on the instant into my head. Snip went the scissors, and lo! the cue lay on the ground! My master followed all my movements with the eye of a vulture, and before my poor comrade was aware of his loss, I was reprimanded, stamped with infamy, and sent about my business without further ceremony.
"I left the establishment in the month of November last year, at seven o'clock in the evening, and found myself in the streets without money or clothes, except the tattered garments on my back. I was in despair, and thought, in seeing myself thus dismissed, that I had been guilty of some dreadful crime. Thereupon I began to weep and cry, when my companion, whose head I had thus dishonored, passed me weeping likewise. Never were so many tears or so much remorse seen before or since for a Prussian cue. I could have thrown myself into his arms—at his feet; but I dared not, and hid my shame in the darkness. Yet perhaps the poor lad wept for my disgrace more than his own loss.
"I spent the night in the streets; and as I was sighing next morning when thinking of the impossibility of procuring a breakfast, I was met by Keller, the barber to the chapel. He had been just dressing Master Reuter, who, in his fury, had talked of nothing but the terrible loss of the cue. The facetious Keller, perceiving my distress, burst into a loud fit of laughter, and overwhelmed me with sarcasms. 'So, so,' cried he as far as he could see me; 'there goes the scourge of wigmakers, the enemy of all, who, like myself, profess to deal with hair! Ho! my little executioner of cues, my little ravager of love-locks! come hither till I trim your dark curls, as a set-off for all the cues that are destined to fall by your hands!' I was furious—desperate; I hid my face in my hands, and thinking I was the object of general indignation, was about to fly. The good Keller, however, stopped me, exclaiming with a gentle voice, 'My poor little fellow, where are you going?—with no food, no friends, no clothes, and such a crime on your conscience! Come, I shall have pity on you, especially on account of your sweet voice, which I have so often heard at the cathedral. I have but one apartment for myself and my children, on the fifth story, but then I have a garret higher up, which is not occupied, and which is at your service. You shall live with me till you get something to do, on the condition, however, that you spare my customers and do not try your fine scissors on my wigs.'
"I followed the generous Keller—my preserver and father. Besides board and lodging, he even gave me, poor as he was, a little money to enable me to pursue my studies. I hired an old worm-eaten harpsichord, and there, with my Fuchs and my Mattheson, I gave myself up without restraint to my ardor for composition. From this moment I considered myself the favorite of Providence. The six first sonatas of Emmanual Bach were my delight all that winter, and I think I learned and understood them thoroughly. At the same time Heaven rewarded my zeal and perseverance, permitting me to procure a little occupation, by which I managed to live and recompense my dear host. I played the organ every Sunday in the chapel of Count Haugwitz, after having taken, in the morning, the part of first violin in the church of the Merciful Brethren. Besides I found two protectors. One is an abbé, who writes Italian verses, very beautiful, they say, and approved of by her majesty, the empress. He is called Metastasio; and as he lives in the same house with Keller and myself, I give lessons to a young lady who is his niece. My other protector is his highness the Venetian ambassador."
"Signor Corner?" exclaimed Consuelo, hastily.
"Ah! you know him then," replied Hadyn; "it was Metastasio who introduced me into his house. My humble talents pleased him, and his excellency promised that I should have lessons from Master Porpora, who is at this moment at the baths of Manendorf with Madam Wilhelmina, his excellency's lady. This promise, that I should become the pupil of the first professor of singing in the universe, filled me with joy. To learn the pure and correct principles of Italian composition! I looked on myself as saved, and blessed my stars, as if I were already myself a maestro. But his excellency's good intentions were not so easily realized as I expected; and unless I obtain a more powerful recommendation, I fear I shall never be able even to approach Porpora. It is said that the illustrious master is strange, rough, unhappy in his temper; and while he is as attentive, generous, and devoted to some pupils, he is just as capricious to others. Reuter, it seems, is nothing in comparison to Porpora, and I tremble at the very idea of seeing him. He has refused all the proposals of the ambassador, saying that he will take no more pupils. But as I know that the Signor Corner will persist, I still venture to hope, as I am determined to put up with every rebuff, so that I succeed at last."
"Your resolution," said Consuelo, "is highly praiseworthy. The great master's rude and forbidding manners were not exaggerated; but you have reason to hope; for, with patience, submission, talent, and judgment, I promise you that after three or four lessons you will find him the mildest and most conscientious of masters. Perhaps even, if your heart and disposition correspond with your understanding, Porpora will prove himself a firm friend, a just and beneficent father."
"Oh! you fill me with joy. I see that you know him, and that you must also know his famous pupil, the new Countess of Rudolstadt—the Porporina——"
"But where have you heard this Porporina spoken of, and what do you expect from her?"
"I expect a letter from her to Porpora, and her recommendation to him when she comes to Venice; for she will doubtless proceed there after her marriage with the rich lord of Riesenburg."
"How did you hear of this marriage?"
"By the greatest chance in the world. I must tell you that, last month, my friend Keller heard that a relation of his at Pilsen had just died, and left him a little property. Keller had neither time nor means to undertake the journey, and did not venture to determine upon it, for fear that the inheritance should not pay the expense of his trip, and the loss of his time. I had just received some money for my labor, and I offered to go and attend to his interests. I have just been at Pilsen, and, during the week I passed there, I have had the satisfaction of seeing Keller's inheritance realized. It is little, no doubt, but that little is not to be despised by him; and I carry with me the titles of a small property, which he can sell or let out as he shall judge best. Returning from Pilsen I found myself yesterday evening in a place called Klatau, where I passed the night. It had been a market-day, and the inn was full of people. I was seated near a table where a large fat man was eating, whom they called Doctor Wetzelius, and who is the greatest gourmand and the greatest babbler I ever met with. 'Do you know the news?' said he to his neighbors; 'Count Albert of Rudolstadt—he who is mad, almost a complete maniac—is going to marry his cousin's music mistress, an adventuress, a beggar, who has been, they say, an actress in Italy.' The old buffoon went on to relate a variety of anecdotes concerning the Porporina, all of which tended to prove that she had imposed on and basely deceived her worthy hosts at Riesenburg."
"Oh! it is horrible; it is infamous!" cried Consuelo, almost beside herself. "It is a tissue of abominable calumnies and revolting absurdities."
"Do not believe that I gave credence to it for an instant," returned Joseph Haydn; "the face of the old doctor was as stupid as it was wicked, and before they had given him the lie, I was already convinced that he was retailing only slanders and falsehoods. But hardly had he ended his story when five or six young men who were near him, took the young lady's part, and it was thus that I learned the truth. Each praised the beauty, the grace, the modesty, the sense, and the incomparable talent of the Porporina. All approved of Count Albert's passion for her, envied his happiness, and admired the old count for having consented to the union. Doctor Wetzelius was treated as an insane dotard, and as they spoke of the high esteem which Master Porpora felt for a pupil to whom he had consented to give his name, the idea occurred to me of going to Riesenburg, throwing herself at the feet of the future or perhaps the present countess (for they said the marriage was already celebrated, but kept secret for fear of offending the court), relating my history to her and endeavoring to procure from her the favor of becoming the pupil of her illustrious master."
Consuelo remained some instants buried in thought; the last words of Joseph respecting the court had struck her. But quickly recovering herself: "My child," said she, "do not go to Riesenburg, you will not find the Porporina there. She is not married to the Count of Rudolstadt, and nothing is less certain than this marriage. It has been talked of, it is true, and I believe the betrothed were worthy of each other; but the Porporina, although she felt for Count Albert a sincere friendship, a high esteem, and a respect without bounds, thought she ought not to decide lightly upon so serious a matter. She weighed, on the one side, the injury she might inflict on that illustrious family, by causing them to lose the good graces and perhaps the protection of the empress, as well as the esteem of the other nobles and the consideration of the whole country; and on the other, the injury she would inflict on herself, by renouncing the practice of that divine art which she had passionately studied and embraced with courage. She said to herself that the sacrifice was great on both sides, and that, before deciding on it hastily, she ought to consult Porpora, and give the young count time to discover if his passion would resist the effects of absence. Therefore she set out suddenly for Vienna on foot, without a guide, almost without money, but with the hope of thus restoring repose and reason to one who loves her, and of carrying away, of all the riches that were offered to her only the testimony of her conscience and the pride of her, profession as an artist."
"Oh! she is indeed a true artist! She has a powerful mind and a noble soul, if she has acted thus!" cried Joseph, fixing his sparkling eyes on Consuelo; "and if I am not deceived it is to her that I speak—it is before her that I kneel."
"It is she who holds out her hand to you, and who offers you her friendship, her advice and support with Porpora; for it appears to me we shall travel together; and if God protects us, as He has hitherto protected us both, as He protects all those who trust only in Him, we shall soon be at Vienna, and shall take our lessons from the same master."
"God be praised!" cried Haydn, weeping with joy, and raising his hands enthusiastically toward heaven; "something whispered to me when I saw you asleep, that you were no common being; and that my life—my destiny—were in your hands!"
CHAPTER LXVII
WHEN the young people had made a more ample acquaintance, by discussing on each side in friendly chat the details of their situation, they thought of the precautions and arrangements necessary for their journey to Vienna. The first thing they did was to take out their purses and count their money. Consuelo was still the richer of the two; but their united funds would only furnish means sufficient to enable them to travel agreeably on foot, without suffering from hunger, or sleeping in the open air. They could not hope for any thing better, and Consuelo had already made up her mind to it. Still, notwithstanding the philosophical gaiety she manifested on this subject, Joseph was anxious and thoughtful.
"What is the matter with you?" said she; "perhaps you are afraid of my company proving an embarrassment to you, and yet I will wager that I can walk better than you."
"You ought to do every thing better than I," replied he; "it is not that which troubles me. But I am sorry and even frightened when I think how young and handsome you are, and how every one must admire you that sees you; while I am so mean and little, that though I were resolved to die for you a thousand times, my strength would not suffice for your protection."
"What are you thinking of, my poor child? Do you suppose that, even if I were handsome enough to attract the attention of the passers-by, a woman who respects herself does not know always how to repel——"
"Ugly or handsome, faded or young, bold or modest, you would not be safe on these roads, covered as they are with disbanded soldiers and scoundrels of every description. Since the peace, the country swarms with soldiers returning to their garrisons, and especially with licensed volunteers, who in order to increase their means, pillage travelers, put whole districts under contribution, and treat the country as a conquered land. I am thinking seriously of changing our route; and in place of going by Piseck and Budweiss—fortified towns, and consequently frequented by all sorts of military stragglers and others not much better—of descending the course of the Moldau, and keeping in the gorges of the almost deserted mountains, where cupidity and rascality find nothing to attract them, proceed along the bank of the river as far as Reichenau, and enter Austria by Freistadt. Once there, we shall be under the protection of a better police than exists in Bohemia."
"You know this road, then?"
"I do not even know if there be one; but I have a small map in my pocket, for I took it into my head on leaving Pilsen to try and return by the mountains, so as to see a little of the country."
"It seems a good idea," said Consuelo, looking at the map; "there are footpaths every where and cabins for the reception of those whose means are slender. I see here in fact a chain of mountains which extend to the source of the Moldau, and which border the river."
"It is the great Böehmer Wald, which contains the highest mountains in the range, and serves as a boundary between Bavaria and Bohemia. We can easily reach it; and by keeping on the heights, can always ascertain the valleys which lead down to the two provinces. Since—Heaven be thanked!—I have no longer to deal with this hidden Castle of the Giants, I am certain of guiding you aright, and not taking a longer route than is needful."
"Let us set out then," said Consuelo. "I feel perfectly refreshed; my sleep and your good bread have restored my strength, and I can accomplish at least ten miles today. Besides I am anxious to leave this neighborhood, where I expect every instant to meet some one who knows me."
"Stop!" said Joseph; "a strange idea occurs to me."
"What is it?"
"If you did not object to put on man's attire, you could then preserve your incognito perfect, and you would escape all the disagreeable consequences which might result from seeing a young girl traveling alone with a youth."
"It is not a bad idea, but you forget our scanty means. Besides, where could I find clothes that would fit me?"
"Listen; I should not have proposed this step if I had not had the means of putting it in execution. We are precisely the same height—which is more honorable to you than me—and I have in my bag an entire suit of clothes, perfectly new, which will disguise you completely. The reason I happened to have them is that they are a present from my good mother, who thought they would be useful to me when going to the embassy, and giving lessons to young ladies. They were made by the village tailor, and certainly the costume is sufficiently picturesque, and the materials well selected, as you may see. But imagine the sensation I would have produced at the embassy, and the wicked laughter of Metastasio's niece, if I had appeared in this rustic doublet and puffed-out pantaloons. I thanked my poor mother, but promised to myself that I would sell the dress to some peasant or strolling actor, This is how I happened to have the suit with me, but fortunately, as it has turned out, I was unable to get rid of it. The people here have an idea that it is some old Polish or Turkish fashion."
"Well, the opportunity of doing so has arrived at last," said Consuelo, laughing. "Your idea is an excellent one, and the traveling actress will be content with your Turkish dress, which is not very unlike a petticoat. I shall take it on credit, or rather on condition that you will take charge of our strong box, as Frederick of Prussia used to call it, and advance the needful funds until we reach Vienna."
"We shall see about that," said Joseph, putting the purse into his pocket, firmly resolved not to let her pay. "In the meantime we must see if the dress fits you. I shall take myself off to the wood, and you will find many a spacious secluded boudoir among these rocks."
"Enter upon the stage," replied Consuelo, pointing toward the forest, "while I retire behind the scenes."
She hastened behind the rocks and proceeded to transform herself, while her respectful companion removed to a distance. The fountain served her as a mirror, and it was not without pleasure that she saw herself converted into the prettiest little peasant that the Slavonic race ever produced. Her slender and agile figure was encircled by a large woollen belt, her ankles, slender as those of a roe, appeared below the heavy folds of her Turkish pantaloons, and her dark hair, in which she had never worn powder, had been cropped short during her illness, and curled naturally about her face. She ran her fingers through it, in order to give it the rustic negligence becoming a young shepherd. She wore her costume with theatrical grace, and assuming, thanks to her mimic talents, an air of rustic simplicity, she found herself so completely disguised, that on the instant a sense of courage and security returned, and as it happens to actors when they have donned their costume to appear on the stage, she identified herself with her part so thoroughly, as to experience all the careless freedom and innocent gaiety of a schoolboy playing truant in the woods.
