Chapter XII. - THE RETURN.
The first campaign of the young King of Prussia had been a bloodless one. Not one drop of blood had been shed. A sentinel at the gate of Breslau had refused to allow the Prussian general to enter, and received for his daring a sounding box on the ear, which sent him reeling backward. The general with his staff entered the conquered capital of Silesia, without further opposition. Breslau was the capital of a province which for more than a hundred years had not been visited by any member of the royal house of Austria. The heavy taxes imposed upon her were the only evidence that she belonged to the Austrian dominions. Breslau did not hesitate to receive this young and handsome king, who as he marched into the city gave a kindly, gracious greeting to all; who had a winning smile for all those richly-dressed ladies at the windows; who had written with his own hand a proclamation in which he assured the Silesians that he came not as an enemy, and that every inhabitant would be secured in their rights, privileges, and freedom in their religion, worth, and service. The ties which bound the beautiful province of Silesia to Austria had long ago been shattered, and the prophecy of the king had already been fulfilled--that prophecy made in Krossen. As the king entered Krossen with his army, the clock of the great church tower fell with a thundering noise, and carried with it a portion of the old church. A superstitious fear fell upon the whole Prussian army; even the old battle-stained warriors looked grim and thoughtful. The king alone smiled, and said:
„The fall of this clock signifies that the pride of the house of Austria will be humbled. Caesar fell when landing in Africa, and exclaimed: 'I hold thee, Africa!'„
Those great men would not allow themselves to be influenced by evil omens. Quickly, indeed, was Frederick's prophecy fulfilled. The house of Austria was suddenly humbled, and the Prussian army was quietly in possession of one of her capitals. Frederick had been joyfully received, not only by the Protestants, who had so long suffered from the bitterest religious persecution, and to whom the king now promised absolute freedom of conscience and unconditional exercise of their religious worship, but by the Catholics, even the priests and Jesuits, who were completely fascinated by the intellect and amiability of Frederick. No man mourned for the Austrian yoke, and the Prussians became great favorites with the Silesians, particularly with the women, who, heart in hand, advanced to meet them; received the handsome and well-made soldiers as lovers, and hastened to have these tender ties made irrevocable by the blessing of the priest. Hundreds of marriages between the Prussians and the maidens of the land were solemnized during the six weeks Frederick remained in Silesia. These men, who, but a few weeks before, came as enemies and conquerors, were now adopted citizens, thus giving their king a double right to the possession of these provinces.
It soon became the mode for the Silesian girl to claim a Prussian lover, and the taller and larger the lover, the prouder and more happy was the lucky possessor. Baron Bielfeld, who accompanied the king to Breslau, met in the street one day a beautiful bourgeoise, who was weeping bitterly and wringing her hands; Bielfeld inquired the cause of her tears, and she replied naively:
„Alas! I am indeed an object of pity; eight days ago I was betrothed to a Prussian grenadier, who measured five feet and nine inches; I was very happy and very proud of him. To-day one of the guard, who measured six feet and two inches, proposed to me; and I weep now because so majestic and handsome a giant is offered me, and I cannot accept him.“
The king won the women through his gallant soldiers, the ladies of the aristocracy, through his own beauty, grace, and eminent intellect. Frederick gave a ball to the aristocracy of Breslau, and all the most distinguished and noble families, who had been before closely bound to the house of Austria, eagerly accepted the invitation; they wished to behold the man who was a hero and a poet, a cavalier and a warrior, a youth and a philosopher; who was young and handsome, and full of life; who did not wrap himself in stiff, ceremonious forms, and appeared in the presence of ladies to forget that he was a king. He worshipped the ladies as a cavalier, and when they accepted the invitation to dance, considered it a flattering favor. While winning the hearts of the women through his gallantry and beauty, he gained the voices of men by the orders and titles which he scattered broadcast through the province.
„I dreamed last night,“ said he to Pollnitz, laughing, „that I created princes, dukes, and barons in Breslau; help me to make my dream a reality by naming to me some of the most prominent families.“
Pollnitz selected the names, and Prince von Pless, Duke Hockburg, and many others rose up proudly from this creative process of the king.
Silesia belonged, at this moment, unconditionally to Prussia. The king could now return to Berlin and devote himself to study, to friendship, and his family. The first act of that great drama called the Seven Years' War was now finished. The king should now, between the acts, give himself up to the arts and sciences, and strengthen himself for that deep tragedy of which he was resolved to be the hero. Berlin received her king with shouts of joy, and greeted him as a demigod. He was no longer, in the eyes of the imperious Austrians, the little Margrave of Brandenburg, who must hold the wash-basin for the emperor; he was a proud, self-sustaining king, no longer receiving commands from Austria, but giving laws to the proud daughter of the Caesars.
The queen-mother and the young princesses met the king at the outer gates. The queen Elizabeth Christine, her eyes veiled with rapturous tears, received her husband tremblingly. Alas! he had for her only a silent greeting, a cold, ceremonious bow. But she saw him once more; she could lose her whole soul in those melting eyes, in which she was ever reading the most enchanting magical fairy tales. In these days of ceremony he could not refuse her a place by his side; to sit near him at table, and at the concerts with which the royal chapel and the newly-arrived Italian singers would celebrate the return of the king. Graun had composed a piece of music in honor of this occasion, and not only the Italian singer, Laura Farinelli, but a scholar of Graun and Quantz, a German singer, Anna Prickerin, would then be heard for the first time. This would be for Anna an eventful and decisive day; she stood on the brink of a new existence--an existence made glorious by renown, honor, and distinction.
It was nothing to her that her father lay agonizing upon his death-bed; it was nothing to her that her brother William had left his home three days before, and no one knew what had become of him. She asked no questions about father or brother; she sorrowed not for the mother lately dead and buried. She had but one thought, one desire, one aim--to be a celebrated singer, to obtain the hand of a man whom she neither loved nor esteemed, but who was a baron and an influential lord of the court. The object of Anna's life was to become the wife of the baron, not for love. She wished to hide her ignoble birth under the glitter of his proud name; it was better to be the wife of a poor baron than the daughter of a tailor, even though he should be the court tailor, and a millionnaire.
The king had been in Berlin but two days, and Pollnitz had already made a visit to his beautiful Anna. Never had he been so demonstrative and so tender; never before had he been seriously occupied with the thought of making her his wife; never had he looked upon it as possible. The example of Count Rhedern gave him courage; what the king had granted to the daughter of the merchant, he could not refuse to the daughter of the court tailor, more particularly when the latter, by her own gifts and talents, had opened the doors of the palace for herself; when by the power of her siren voice she had made the barriers tremble and fall which separated the tailor's daughter from the court circle. If the lovely Anna became a celebrated singer, if she succeeded in winning the applause of the king, she would be ennobled; and no one could reproach the baron for making the beautiful prima donna his wife. If, therefore, she pleased the king, Pollnitz was resolved to confess himself her knight, and to marry her as soon as possible--yes, as soon as possible, for his creditors followed him, persecuted him at every step, even threatened him with judgment and a prison. Pollnitz reminded the king that he had promised, after his return from Silesia, to assist him. Frederick replied that he had not yet seen a battle-field, and was at the beginning and not the end of a war, for which he would require more gold than his treasuries contained; „wait patiently, also,“ he said, „for the promised day, for only then can I fulfil my promise.“ It was, therefore, a necessity with Pollnitz to find some way of escape from this terrible labyrinth; and with an anxiously-beating heart he stood on the evening of the concert behind the king's chair, to watch every movement and every word, and above all to notice the effect produced by the voice of his Anna.
The king was uncommonly gay and gracious; these two days in his beloved Berlin, after weeks of fatigue and weariness in Silesia, had filled his heart with gladness. He had given almost a lover's greeting to his books and his flute, and his library seemed to him a sanctified home; with joy he exchanged his sword for a pen, and instead of drawing plans of battle, he wrote verses or witty letters to Voltaire, whom he still honored, and in a certain sense admired, although the six days which Voltaire had spent in Rheinsberg, just before the Silesian campaign, had somewhat diminished his admiration for the French author. After Frederick's first meeting with Voltaire at the castle of Moyland, he said of him, „He is as eloquent as Cicero, as charming as Plinius, and as wise as Agrippa; he combines in himself all the virtues and all the talents of the three greatest men of the ancients.“ He now called the author of the „Henriade“ a FOOL; it excited and troubled his spirit to see that this great author was mean and contemptible in character, cold and cunning in heart. He had loved Voltaire as a friend, and now he confessed with pain that Voltaire's friendship was a possession which must be cemented with gold, if you did not wish to lose it. The king who, a few months before, had compared him to Cicero, Plinius, and Agrippa, now said to Jordan, „The miser, Voltaire, has still an unsatisfied longing for gold, and asks still thirteen hundred dollars! Every one of the six days which he spent with me cost me five hundred and fifty dollars! I call that paying dear for a fool! Never before was a court fool so generously rewarded.“
To-day Frederick was expecting a new enjoyment; to-day, for the first time, he was to hear the new Italian singer. This court concert promised him, therefore, a special enjoyment, and he awaited it with youthful impatience.
At last Graun gave the signal for the introduction; Frederick had no ear for this simple, beautiful, and touching music; and the masterly solo of Quantz upon the flute drew from him a single bravo; he thought only of the singers, and at last the chorus began.
The heart of Pollnitz beat loud and quick as he glanced at Anna, who stood proud and grave, in costly French toilet, far removed from the Farinelli. Anna examined the court circles quietly, and looked as unembarrassed as if she had been long accustomed to such society.
The chorus was at an end, and Laura Farinelli had the first aria to sing. Anna Prickerin could have murdered her for this. The Italian, in the full consciousness of her power, returned Anna's scorn with a half-mocking, half-contemptuous smile; she then fixed her great, piercing eyes upon the music, and began to sing.
Anna could have cried aloud in her rage, for she saw that the king was well pleased: he nodded his head, and a gay smile overspread his features; she saw that the whole court circle made up enchanted faces immediately, and that even Pollnitz assumed an entirely happy and enthusiastic mien. The Farinelli saw all this, and the royal applause stimulated her; her full, glorious voice floated and warbled in the artistic „Fioritures“ and „Roulades,“ then dreamed itself away in soft, melodious tones; again it rose into the loftiest regions of sound, and was again almost lost in the simple, touching melodies of love.
„Delicious! superb!“ said the king, aloud, as Farinelli concluded.
„Exalted! godlike!“ cried Pollnitz; and now, as the royal sign had been given, the whole court dared to follow the example, and to utter light and repressed murmurs of wonder and applause.
Anna felt that she turned pale; her feet trembled; she could have murdered the Italian with her own hands! this proud Farinelli, who at this moment looked toward her with a questioning and derisive glance; and her eyes seemed to say, „Will you yet dare to sing?“
But Anna had the proud courage to dare. She said to herself, „I shall triumph over her; her voice is as thin as a thread, and as sharp as a fine needle, while mine is full and powerful, and rolls like an organ; and as for her 'Fioritures,' I understand them as well as she.“
With this conviction she took the notes in her hand, and waited for the moment when the „Ritornelle“ should be ended; she returned with a quiet smile the anxious look which her teacher, Quantz, fixed upon her.
The „Ritornelle“ was ended. Anna began her song; her voice swelled loudly and powerfully, far above the orchestra, but the king was dull and immovable; he gave not the slightest token of applause. Anna saw this, and her voice, which had not trembled with fear, now trembled with rage; she was resolved to awake the astonishment of the king by the strength and power of her voice; she would compel him to applaud! She gathered together the whole strength of her voice and made so powerful an effort that her poor chest seemed about to burst asunder; a wild, discordant strain rose stunningly upon the air, and now she had indeed the triumph to see that the king laughed! Yes, the king laughed! but not with the same smile with which he greeted Farinelli, but in mockery and contempt. He turned to Pollnitz, and said:
„What is the name of this woman who roars so horribly?“
Pollnitz shrugged his shoulders; he had a kind of feeling as if that moment his creditors had seized him by the throat.
„Sire,“ whispered he, „I believe it is Anna Prickerin.“ The king laughed; yes, in spite of the „Fioritures“ of the raging singer, who had seen Pollnitz's shrug of the shoulders, and had vowed in the spirit to take a bloody vengeance.
Louder and louder the fair Anna shrieked, but the king did not applaud. She had now finished the last note of her aria, and breathlessly with loudly-beating heart she waited for the applause of the king. It came not! perfect stillness reigned; even Pollnitz was speechless.
„Do you know, certainly, that this roaring woman is the daughter of our tailor?“ said the king.
Pollnitz answered, „Yes,“ with a bleeding heart.
„I have often heard that a tailor was called a goat, but his children are nevertheless not nightingales, and poor Pricker can sooner force a camel through the eye of his needle than make a songstress of his daughter. The Germans cannot sing, and it is an incomprehensible mistake of Graun to bring such a singer before us.“
„She is a pupil of Quantz,“ said Pollnitz, „and he has often assured me she would make a great singer.“
„Ah, she is a pupil of Quantz,“ repeated the king, and his eye glanced around in search of him. Quantz, with an angry face, and his eyebrows drawn together, was seated at his desk. „Alas!“ said Frederick, „when he makes such a face as that, he grumbles with me for two days, and is never pleased with my flute. I must seek to mollify him, therefore, and when this Mademoiselle Prickerin sings again I will give a slight sign of applause.“
But Anna Prickerin sang no more; angry scorn shot like a stream of fire through her veins, she felt suffocated; tears rushed to her eyes; every thing about her seemed to be wavering and unsteady; and as her listless, half-unconscious glances wandered around, she met the gay, triumphant eyes of the Farinelli fixed derisively upon her. Anna felt as if a sword had pierced her heart; she uttered a fearful cry, and sank unconscious to the floor.
„What cry was that?“ said the king, „and what signifies this strange movement among the singers?“
„Sire, it appears that the Prickerin has fallen into a fainting-fit,“ said Pollnitz.
The king thought this a good opportunity to pacify Quantz by showing an interest in his pupil. „That is indeed a most unhappy circumstance,“ said the king, aloud. „Hasten, Pollnitz, to inquire in my name after the health of this gifted young singer. If she is still suffering, take one of my carriages and conduct her yourself to her home, and do not leave her till you can bring me satisfactory intelligence as to her recovery.“ So saying, the king cast a stolen glance toward the much-dreaded Quantz, whose brow had become somewhat clearer, and his expression less threatening. „We will, perhaps,“ whispered the king, „escape this time with one day's growling; I think I have softened him.“ Frederick seated himself, and gave the signal for the concert to proceed; he saw that, with the assistance of the baron, the unconscious songstress had been removed.
„The fall of this clock signifies that the pride of the house of Austria will be humbled. Caesar fell when landing in Africa, and exclaimed: 'I hold thee, Africa!'„
Those great men would not allow themselves to be influenced by evil omens. Quickly, indeed, was Frederick's prophecy fulfilled. The house of Austria was suddenly humbled, and the Prussian army was quietly in possession of one of her capitals. Frederick had been joyfully received, not only by the Protestants, who had so long suffered from the bitterest religious persecution, and to whom the king now promised absolute freedom of conscience and unconditional exercise of their religious worship, but by the Catholics, even the priests and Jesuits, who were completely fascinated by the intellect and amiability of Frederick. No man mourned for the Austrian yoke, and the Prussians became great favorites with the Silesians, particularly with the women, who, heart in hand, advanced to meet them; received the handsome and well-made soldiers as lovers, and hastened to have these tender ties made irrevocable by the blessing of the priest. Hundreds of marriages between the Prussians and the maidens of the land were solemnized during the six weeks Frederick remained in Silesia. These men, who, but a few weeks before, came as enemies and conquerors, were now adopted citizens, thus giving their king a double right to the possession of these provinces.
It soon became the mode for the Silesian girl to claim a Prussian lover, and the taller and larger the lover, the prouder and more happy was the lucky possessor. Baron Bielfeld, who accompanied the king to Breslau, met in the street one day a beautiful bourgeoise, who was weeping bitterly and wringing her hands; Bielfeld inquired the cause of her tears, and she replied naively:
„Alas! I am indeed an object of pity; eight days ago I was betrothed to a Prussian grenadier, who measured five feet and nine inches; I was very happy and very proud of him. To-day one of the guard, who measured six feet and two inches, proposed to me; and I weep now because so majestic and handsome a giant is offered me, and I cannot accept him.“
The king won the women through his gallant soldiers, the ladies of the aristocracy, through his own beauty, grace, and eminent intellect. Frederick gave a ball to the aristocracy of Breslau, and all the most distinguished and noble families, who had been before closely bound to the house of Austria, eagerly accepted the invitation; they wished to behold the man who was a hero and a poet, a cavalier and a warrior, a youth and a philosopher; who was young and handsome, and full of life; who did not wrap himself in stiff, ceremonious forms, and appeared in the presence of ladies to forget that he was a king. He worshipped the ladies as a cavalier, and when they accepted the invitation to dance, considered it a flattering favor. While winning the hearts of the women through his gallantry and beauty, he gained the voices of men by the orders and titles which he scattered broadcast through the province.
„I dreamed last night,“ said he to Pollnitz, laughing, „that I created princes, dukes, and barons in Breslau; help me to make my dream a reality by naming to me some of the most prominent families.“
Pollnitz selected the names, and Prince von Pless, Duke Hockburg, and many others rose up proudly from this creative process of the king.
Silesia belonged, at this moment, unconditionally to Prussia. The king could now return to Berlin and devote himself to study, to friendship, and his family. The first act of that great drama called the Seven Years' War was now finished. The king should now, between the acts, give himself up to the arts and sciences, and strengthen himself for that deep tragedy of which he was resolved to be the hero. Berlin received her king with shouts of joy, and greeted him as a demigod. He was no longer, in the eyes of the imperious Austrians, the little Margrave of Brandenburg, who must hold the wash-basin for the emperor; he was a proud, self-sustaining king, no longer receiving commands from Austria, but giving laws to the proud daughter of the Caesars.
The queen-mother and the young princesses met the king at the outer gates. The queen Elizabeth Christine, her eyes veiled with rapturous tears, received her husband tremblingly. Alas! he had for her only a silent greeting, a cold, ceremonious bow. But she saw him once more; she could lose her whole soul in those melting eyes, in which she was ever reading the most enchanting magical fairy tales. In these days of ceremony he could not refuse her a place by his side; to sit near him at table, and at the concerts with which the royal chapel and the newly-arrived Italian singers would celebrate the return of the king. Graun had composed a piece of music in honor of this occasion, and not only the Italian singer, Laura Farinelli, but a scholar of Graun and Quantz, a German singer, Anna Prickerin, would then be heard for the first time. This would be for Anna an eventful and decisive day; she stood on the brink of a new existence--an existence made glorious by renown, honor, and distinction.
It was nothing to her that her father lay agonizing upon his death-bed; it was nothing to her that her brother William had left his home three days before, and no one knew what had become of him. She asked no questions about father or brother; she sorrowed not for the mother lately dead and buried. She had but one thought, one desire, one aim--to be a celebrated singer, to obtain the hand of a man whom she neither loved nor esteemed, but who was a baron and an influential lord of the court. The object of Anna's life was to become the wife of the baron, not for love. She wished to hide her ignoble birth under the glitter of his proud name; it was better to be the wife of a poor baron than the daughter of a tailor, even though he should be the court tailor, and a millionnaire.
The king had been in Berlin but two days, and Pollnitz had already made a visit to his beautiful Anna. Never had he been so demonstrative and so tender; never before had he been seriously occupied with the thought of making her his wife; never had he looked upon it as possible. The example of Count Rhedern gave him courage; what the king had granted to the daughter of the merchant, he could not refuse to the daughter of the court tailor, more particularly when the latter, by her own gifts and talents, had opened the doors of the palace for herself; when by the power of her siren voice she had made the barriers tremble and fall which separated the tailor's daughter from the court circle. If the lovely Anna became a celebrated singer, if she succeeded in winning the applause of the king, she would be ennobled; and no one could reproach the baron for making the beautiful prima donna his wife. If, therefore, she pleased the king, Pollnitz was resolved to confess himself her knight, and to marry her as soon as possible--yes, as soon as possible, for his creditors followed him, persecuted him at every step, even threatened him with judgment and a prison. Pollnitz reminded the king that he had promised, after his return from Silesia, to assist him. Frederick replied that he had not yet seen a battle-field, and was at the beginning and not the end of a war, for which he would require more gold than his treasuries contained; „wait patiently, also,“ he said, „for the promised day, for only then can I fulfil my promise.“ It was, therefore, a necessity with Pollnitz to find some way of escape from this terrible labyrinth; and with an anxiously-beating heart he stood on the evening of the concert behind the king's chair, to watch every movement and every word, and above all to notice the effect produced by the voice of his Anna.
The king was uncommonly gay and gracious; these two days in his beloved Berlin, after weeks of fatigue and weariness in Silesia, had filled his heart with gladness. He had given almost a lover's greeting to his books and his flute, and his library seemed to him a sanctified home; with joy he exchanged his sword for a pen, and instead of drawing plans of battle, he wrote verses or witty letters to Voltaire, whom he still honored, and in a certain sense admired, although the six days which Voltaire had spent in Rheinsberg, just before the Silesian campaign, had somewhat diminished his admiration for the French author. After Frederick's first meeting with Voltaire at the castle of Moyland, he said of him, „He is as eloquent as Cicero, as charming as Plinius, and as wise as Agrippa; he combines in himself all the virtues and all the talents of the three greatest men of the ancients.“ He now called the author of the „Henriade“ a FOOL; it excited and troubled his spirit to see that this great author was mean and contemptible in character, cold and cunning in heart. He had loved Voltaire as a friend, and now he confessed with pain that Voltaire's friendship was a possession which must be cemented with gold, if you did not wish to lose it. The king who, a few months before, had compared him to Cicero, Plinius, and Agrippa, now said to Jordan, „The miser, Voltaire, has still an unsatisfied longing for gold, and asks still thirteen hundred dollars! Every one of the six days which he spent with me cost me five hundred and fifty dollars! I call that paying dear for a fool! Never before was a court fool so generously rewarded.“
To-day Frederick was expecting a new enjoyment; to-day, for the first time, he was to hear the new Italian singer. This court concert promised him, therefore, a special enjoyment, and he awaited it with youthful impatience.
At last Graun gave the signal for the introduction; Frederick had no ear for this simple, beautiful, and touching music; and the masterly solo of Quantz upon the flute drew from him a single bravo; he thought only of the singers, and at last the chorus began.
The heart of Pollnitz beat loud and quick as he glanced at Anna, who stood proud and grave, in costly French toilet, far removed from the Farinelli. Anna examined the court circles quietly, and looked as unembarrassed as if she had been long accustomed to such society.
The chorus was at an end, and Laura Farinelli had the first aria to sing. Anna Prickerin could have murdered her for this. The Italian, in the full consciousness of her power, returned Anna's scorn with a half-mocking, half-contemptuous smile; she then fixed her great, piercing eyes upon the music, and began to sing.
Anna could have cried aloud in her rage, for she saw that the king was well pleased: he nodded his head, and a gay smile overspread his features; she saw that the whole court circle made up enchanted faces immediately, and that even Pollnitz assumed an entirely happy and enthusiastic mien. The Farinelli saw all this, and the royal applause stimulated her; her full, glorious voice floated and warbled in the artistic „Fioritures“ and „Roulades,“ then dreamed itself away in soft, melodious tones; again it rose into the loftiest regions of sound, and was again almost lost in the simple, touching melodies of love.
„Delicious! superb!“ said the king, aloud, as Farinelli concluded.
„Exalted! godlike!“ cried Pollnitz; and now, as the royal sign had been given, the whole court dared to follow the example, and to utter light and repressed murmurs of wonder and applause.
Anna felt that she turned pale; her feet trembled; she could have murdered the Italian with her own hands! this proud Farinelli, who at this moment looked toward her with a questioning and derisive glance; and her eyes seemed to say, „Will you yet dare to sing?“
But Anna had the proud courage to dare. She said to herself, „I shall triumph over her; her voice is as thin as a thread, and as sharp as a fine needle, while mine is full and powerful, and rolls like an organ; and as for her 'Fioritures,' I understand them as well as she.“
With this conviction she took the notes in her hand, and waited for the moment when the „Ritornelle“ should be ended; she returned with a quiet smile the anxious look which her teacher, Quantz, fixed upon her.
The „Ritornelle“ was ended. Anna began her song; her voice swelled loudly and powerfully, far above the orchestra, but the king was dull and immovable; he gave not the slightest token of applause. Anna saw this, and her voice, which had not trembled with fear, now trembled with rage; she was resolved to awake the astonishment of the king by the strength and power of her voice; she would compel him to applaud! She gathered together the whole strength of her voice and made so powerful an effort that her poor chest seemed about to burst asunder; a wild, discordant strain rose stunningly upon the air, and now she had indeed the triumph to see that the king laughed! Yes, the king laughed! but not with the same smile with which he greeted Farinelli, but in mockery and contempt. He turned to Pollnitz, and said:
„What is the name of this woman who roars so horribly?“
Pollnitz shrugged his shoulders; he had a kind of feeling as if that moment his creditors had seized him by the throat.
„Sire,“ whispered he, „I believe it is Anna Prickerin.“ The king laughed; yes, in spite of the „Fioritures“ of the raging singer, who had seen Pollnitz's shrug of the shoulders, and had vowed in the spirit to take a bloody vengeance.
Louder and louder the fair Anna shrieked, but the king did not applaud. She had now finished the last note of her aria, and breathlessly with loudly-beating heart she waited for the applause of the king. It came not! perfect stillness reigned; even Pollnitz was speechless.
„Do you know, certainly, that this roaring woman is the daughter of our tailor?“ said the king.
Pollnitz answered, „Yes,“ with a bleeding heart.
„I have often heard that a tailor was called a goat, but his children are nevertheless not nightingales, and poor Pricker can sooner force a camel through the eye of his needle than make a songstress of his daughter. The Germans cannot sing, and it is an incomprehensible mistake of Graun to bring such a singer before us.“
„She is a pupil of Quantz,“ said Pollnitz, „and he has often assured me she would make a great singer.“
„Ah, she is a pupil of Quantz,“ repeated the king, and his eye glanced around in search of him. Quantz, with an angry face, and his eyebrows drawn together, was seated at his desk. „Alas!“ said Frederick, „when he makes such a face as that, he grumbles with me for two days, and is never pleased with my flute. I must seek to mollify him, therefore, and when this Mademoiselle Prickerin sings again I will give a slight sign of applause.“
But Anna Prickerin sang no more; angry scorn shot like a stream of fire through her veins, she felt suffocated; tears rushed to her eyes; every thing about her seemed to be wavering and unsteady; and as her listless, half-unconscious glances wandered around, she met the gay, triumphant eyes of the Farinelli fixed derisively upon her. Anna felt as if a sword had pierced her heart; she uttered a fearful cry, and sank unconscious to the floor.
„What cry was that?“ said the king, „and what signifies this strange movement among the singers?“
„Sire, it appears that the Prickerin has fallen into a fainting-fit,“ said Pollnitz.
The king thought this a good opportunity to pacify Quantz by showing an interest in his pupil. „That is indeed a most unhappy circumstance,“ said the king, aloud. „Hasten, Pollnitz, to inquire in my name after the health of this gifted young singer. If she is still suffering, take one of my carriages and conduct her yourself to her home, and do not leave her till you can bring me satisfactory intelligence as to her recovery.“ So saying, the king cast a stolen glance toward the much-dreaded Quantz, whose brow had become somewhat clearer, and his expression less threatening. „We will, perhaps,“ whispered the king, „escape this time with one day's growling; I think I have softened him.“ Frederick seated himself, and gave the signal for the concert to proceed; he saw that, with the assistance of the baron, the unconscious songstress had been removed.
Dieses Kapitel ist Teil des Buches FREDERICK THE GREAT AND HIS COURT. Book III.