Hon. Marie Hay

'The very substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream.

Hamlet.

After their marriage his Highness and the Countess of Urach took up their residence in the castle of Hohen-TÜbingen, where Wilhelmine had wandered, a lonely stranger, on the morning of her arrival in Wirtemberg. Now she was the queen of the grim fortress, and, looking upon the fair valley and the distant hills, she would often ponder on the marvellous workings of her destiny.

The court of Wirtemberg naturally held aloof from the unlawful magnificence at TÜbingen, and her Ladyship of Urach realised that she must form a circle of her own, so she summoned her family from the north.

Her sister, Emma Sittmann, came from Berlin accompanied by her husband, the merchant's warehouse clerk, who it was said, had been at one time hairdresser to a Countess of Wartensleben, and had been dismissed for his insolence. A cousin came with the Sittmanns, SchÜtz by name, a shady attorney who had been discredited for sharp practices in various towns, including Vienna, where, however, he still retained business relations of a mysterious and probably reprehensible character. A number of friends and relations, both of SchÜtz's and Sittmann's, also hastened to TÜbingen. Sittmann had been married once before he took Wilhelmine's sister to wife, and of this former union he had two gawky sons, who accompanied their father and stepmother to this land of promise.

Old Frau von GrÄvenitz was invited by her successful daughter to repair to Wirtemberg but the harsh old lady responded by a bluff refusal and a command to Wilhelmine to return to virtue. She never visited Wirtemberg, and though she condescended to receive small sums from Friedrich GrÄvenitz, regardless of the fact that the money actually came from Wilhelmine, she remained sternly disapproving to the end of her days.

It was but a small court, and Wilhelmine found it all insufficient, so she selected from among the TÜbingen students half a dozen youths of undistinguished birth but undoubted intelligence, and caused them to be given minor court appointments. Stafforth was dismissed; his wife was Johanna Elizabetha's friend, and the Countess disliked him. Knowing him for an unscrupulous adventurer himself, she judged him capable of gauging the small social standing and slightly veneered vulgarity of Sittmann, SchÜtz and company. So Stafforth's Oberhofmarshall's baton was conferred on Friedrich GrÄvenitz, together with a considerable income. Sittmann was made a baron (of Wirtemberg, not of the Empire); SchÜtz became Geheimrath and personal secretary to his Highness; Madame de Ruth was Oberhofmeisterin—'Dame de DÉshonneur,' Wilhelmine called her in private—and the two ladies laughed much at the recollection of this, poor Johanna Elizabetha's solitary witticism. The Sittmann was Dame du Palais, her stepsons were Kammerjunker (equerries) to the Duke. Pages were chosen from among the younger TÜbingen students, and any chance visitor was given a high-sounding title and a sham office. The only work of the whole heterogeneous collection was to be gorgeously attired; but this was easy, as the Duke paid all expenses; to be young and gay, or you were even permitted to be old, could you be witty; and before every other duty came the obligation of treating the Countess of Urach with all the ceremony and adulation which the world is accustomed to offer to queens.

The Duke's own guard was commanded to TÜbingen, and so much silver was added to their uniforms that the regiment now thoroughly earned its appellation of Silver Guard. Many TÜbingen students were enrolled in the corps; indeed, it was imperative there should be a leaven of Wilhelmine's adherents in the troop, for Zollern said that he did not trust the old guard where she was concerned.

An erstwhile strolling company of Italian comedians was installed as court play-actors; a number of French fiddlers and singers arrived, and were officially entitled 'The Countess of Urach's Musicians.'

It was all very absurd, without doubt; a mock court, but gay, brilliant, lavish, and gradually various members of the legitimate court filtered in to TÜbingen and were swept into the festive stream.

Eberhard Ludwig was supremely happy. If at moments he shrank a little from the Sittmanns, or SchÜtz plebeian airs and insolences, still he was really entertained and amused. Never a hint of dullness at Wilhelmine's court. The witticisms were atrocious, the comedies lewd, the dancing a trifle indecorous perhaps, but her real gaiety, her innate knowledge of limits, and above all, her unfailing admiration for her 'husband,' made life delightful at TÜbingen. Towards the beginning of September the 'court' moved to Urach, where the Duke wished to enjoy some shooting and stag-hunting.

There was but one small cloud on Wilhelmine's sky at this time, and this was the silence maintained by the Emperor and his advisers. Eberhard Ludwig had informed his Majesty of his marriage, craving his suzerain to ratify its legality, and permit him to raise the Countess of Urach to the rank of Duchess of Wirtemberg. He set forth that, during ten years, his former wife Johanna Elizabetha had been sterile, and therefore, as reigning Prince, he was at liberty to declare that alliance null, and for the good of his country take to wife another woman capable of bearing children. He undertook to provide for Johanna Elizabetha according to her royal position, and declared he would accord her all honours due to an ex-Duchess of Wirtemberg, viz. residence, monies, guards, privileges, titles, etc. The Duke's epistle was an astounding document enough, especially coming from a Prince whose repudiated wife had presented him with an heir, albeit that heir, the Erbprinz Friedrich Ludwig, was but a sickly specimen of mankind—a youth unlikely to live long enough to succeed his father or to provide successors to his House. In this imperial silence lay the opportunity of Zollern and the Catholic party, who believed that if the Emperor proved obdurate, it would be possible to obtain from Rome a decree of annulment of Johanna Elizabetha's marriage, on the pretext of State necessity. Of course, the price of this papal concession was Eberhard Ludwig's conversion to the Roman faith, and the reinstalment of Catholicism as the State religion of Wirtemberg.

Zollern fully realised that Wilhelmine was playing a dangerous game; he knew that any day an imperial edict might crush her, branding her as a bigamist. The brunt would fall on her, for Eberhard Ludwig, as reigning Prince and valuable ally of Imperial Vienna, would escape with a reprimand. But for her an Austrian prison was on the cards, or at best perpetual exile and outlawry, which would make it difficult for any State to befriend her. He bethought him of his kinsman, Frederick i. of Prussia, an amiable monarch, and Zollern's personal friend and cousin. If Austria proved obdurate, and Rome objected to entering into a dispute with Vienna, at least Wilhelmine could find powerful protection at Berlin. Zollern wrote to his cousin of Prussia, praying him to grant the Countess of GrÄvenitz, Countess of Urach, a perpetual Schutzbrief, or Lettre de Sauvegarde—an official document binding the King of Prussia to protect the lady and her property, if she appealed for aid. Frederick i. granted this without ado.

Still the imperial answer tarried. It behoved Eberhard Ludwig to announce his marriage formally to the officials at Stuttgart. Wilhelmine enjoying the prospect of the scene urged Serenissimus to summon his GeheimrÄthe, or Privy Councillors, to Urach immediately. They were to arrive at the castle in the afternoon, she decided; the marriage was to be announced, then a State banquet was to take place in the ancient tilting-hall beneath the castle. This latter, of course, she would not attend; but it would be followed by a grand ball in the Golden Hall, where all should greet her as Queen of the Revels, as legal wife of their Duke, as Countess of Urach and future Duchess of Wirtemberg.

Thus it befell that on the 15th of September 1707, eight pompous gentlemen, GeheimrÄthe of the Dukedom, arrived at the castle of Urach. They were met with much ceremony at the gate and conducted to the Golden Hall. A delightful quaint place this: picture to yourself a large apartment, three sides of which open out in lattice windows through which, if your eye wanders, you see the rounded Swabian hills densely clad in beech and pine. On the summit of one of the nearest of these hills stands the grim fortress of Hohen-Urach, an impregnable stronghold of mediÆval days turned prison in the eighteenth century. The Golden Hall is decorated, as its name portends, with gilded devices on the wall, with stately golden pilasters and formal green-painted trees, whose branches meander quaintly over one entire wall of the room, that wall unbroken by the windows. Over the two heavily carved doors the tree-branches twine and twist into the word 'attempto,' the proud motto of Count Eberhard 'the Bearded,' a great gentleman of the Cinque cento, whose nuptials with a Princess of Mantua were celebrated in the same Golden Hall. In memory whereof their nuptial bed still stood in the hall where Eberhard Ludwig assembled his Privy Council for the announcement of his marriage with Wilhelmine von GrÄvenitz, the Mecklemburg adventuress. The councillors kept waiting in the Golden Hall guessed the preposterous demand their Duke would make to them. They were in a fine quandary. What to say to a Prince who answered questions of legal right by: 'I am above the law, alter the petty phrase in your code-book.' A Prince, mark you, who could punish resistance with death. And yet at Vienna was a suzerain who might chastise the official participators in a crime against the Empire's laws.

So the eight councillors stood moodily waiting for their Prince to appear, and contemplating with anger the elaborate preparations for the evening's feast. Such flowers, such rich hangings, and what were those two fine chairs?

The Duke was coming; they heard a woman's voice in the corridor, a woman's laugh—most unseemly.

His Highness greeted them ceremoniously, and then:

'My honourable council, I have summoned you to announce my marriage to the ReichsgrÄfin Wilhelmine von GrÄvenitz, Countess of Urach, which was solemnised privately, though in all legal and religious form, a year ago.'

No one has ever known why his Highness told this useless untruth anent the date of his mock marriage, for he must have known that none would believe that, at least; besides, why tell an unnecessary lie?

'It is convenient to me to declare publicly my new alliance at this time, and I desire that the news shall be received by you and all my subjects in Wirtemberg, not only without comment, but with fitting expressions of content and with feasting and rejoicing. My late wife, the Princess Johanna Elizabetha of Baden-Durlach, I direct shall receive the honours and respect due to a Princess Dowager of Wirtemberg, and I appoint you to arrange with her Highness where she shall reside, provided it is not in or near my city of Stuttgart. The appanage I concede to the Princess Dowager Johanna Elizabetha is ten thousand gulden a year beside her own small marriage dowry. To my present legal wife, the Countess of Urach, I appoint royal honours and the castle of Urach as residence, in addition to such lodgings as it may please her to occupy in any other of my castles. She will receive an appanage of twenty-five thousand gulden a year. Gentlemen, you will take part in the festivities here to-day, and to-morrow I charge you to repair to Stuttgart and to acquaint the Duchess——' he corrected himself hastily, 'Princess Johanna Elizabetha with these facts.'

There was a moment's pause. The GeheimrÄthe looked at one another in consternation; this was an even more astounding declaration than they had dreamed his Highness could venture to make. Geheimrath von Hespen, a devoted adherent of the Duchess Johanna Elizabetha, came forward.

'Your Highness, I speak in the name of my colleagues. This thing you ask is impossible: law, religion, usage forbid. I solemnly adjure your Highness to refrain from——'

'Herr von Hespen, I have given you my commands. It remains for me to inform you of the penalty I impose upon such as are disobedient to me. All who refuse to carry out my instructions cease to be members of my Privy Council; those who venture to speak against me or my wife are guilty of treason. As I think you are aware, the punishment of treason is death.'

'Monseigneur the Prelate Osiander,' announced the page-in-waiting as he flung open the door of the Golden Hall. Eberhard Ludwig turned excitedly to greet the Prelate.

'Osiander,' he cried, 'you have come in time.'

'God grant I have, Serenissimus,' returned Osiander sternly.

'As a priest of God I pray you to tell these gentlemen that those whom God has joined together no man's power can put asunder!' cried his Highness.

'That is exactly what I have the duty to remind your Highness,' returned the Prelate. 'The Duchess Johanna Elizabetha, your wife——' Eberhard Ludwig started violently; he saw that he had blundered.

'I do not speak of my late wife, Monsieur le PrÉlat. She is no longer my wife! She who holds that position is Wilhelmine, Countess of Urach.'

'Impossible, Serenissimus, as long as the Duchess Johanna Elizabetha lives,' replied Osiander.

'By all the rites of the Church, by the law of God and man, I am truly wedded to the Countess of Urach!' the Duke answered passionately.

'As long as your Highness lives in mortal sin the Church denies you the Sacraments. I am the representative of the Church, your Highness, and in the presence of your Privy Council I pronounce this ban upon you,' said the Churchman severely.

'Let me remind you that there is another Church. Remember I am Pope in my land! If you of the Lutheran confession will not serve me, I will seek consolation in an older faith!' cried Eberhard Ludwig.

The GeheimrÄthe, huddled together in a whispering, wavering, frightened group, had listened to Osiander's grave words in silence, but at this speech of his Highness's they broke into agitated exclamations:

'His Highness does not know what he says! Roman idolatry! Ah! Monseigneur! It is contrary to the testament of Eberhard the Ancient and the true laws of Wirtemberg!' Eberhard Ludwig paid no heed to these varied ejaculations of his Privy Councillors. He was watching Osiander's stern face, and his own expression was as unrelenting as the Prelate's.

'Is this your last word, Monsieur Osiander?' he said quietly.

'Yes, Monseigneur, my last word, and the decision of the Church which I represent.'

'Then, sir, I can dispense with your presence in my castle of Urach,' replied the Duke haughtily.

The Prelate withdrew without a word. Eberhard Ludwig waited till Osiander passed out of the Golden Hall, then: 'Gentlemen, you have heard. Now I require you to sign this document. Those who do not sign, cease to be members of my Privy Council.' He drew a large folded paper from his breast, and laying it open upon the table desired one of the GeheimrÄthe to read it aloud. It was a repetition in formal legal terms of his Highness's speech to the Council, and had been drawn up and cleverly worded by SchÜtz, the fraudulent attorney of Vienna.

'Your Highness takes the entire responsibility of this act?' questioned one of the councillors.

'Yes, noble sirs, and I have but to add that such of you as do not sign will be arrested immediately.' He moved back a few paces, and pushing open the door revealed to the councillors a detachment of Silver Guards stationed in the corridor without. Seven GeheimrÄthe approached the table and without more ado affixed their signatures to the document. Only Herr von Hespen remained.

'I await your decision, sir,' said Serenissimus harshly.

'I shall not sign,' replied Hespen.

'Arrest this gentleman!' called the Prince; 'and now, sirs, we will repair to the tilting-hall and our banquet.'

The small town of Urach was in a state of such commotion as it had not known since the far-off day when Count Eberhard the Bearded received his Mantuan bride at the castle. All day coaches rolled into the courtyard of the old inn, and the narrow streets were filled with servants anxiously seeking lodgings for their masters. At every moment coaches drew up in the courtyard of the small hostelry and companies of fine gentlemen rode in. Every one demanded accommodation, and quarrels and protestations filled the air. In the streets hawkers called their wares, ribbons, laces, patches. A strolling vender of reputed wonder-working balsams and philtres attracted a laughing crowd; itinerant musicians arrived on the scene and added the strains of stringed instruments and the choruses of gay songs to the general clamour. Urach, the quiet hill-town, where many quaint fountains murmur ceaselessly, seemed turned into a place of carnival. Near the castle gate the crowd of peasants and burghers was dense, every one inquisitive to catch a glimpse of the gay doings within, but the sentries kept the people back and only the foremost watchers could see the interior of the courtyard. Here too was festive bustle, for his Highness sat at the grand banquet in the tilting-hall, and serving-men ran hurriedly across the courtyard bearing steaming viands from the kitchen or laden with platters of delicious cakes. The Duke's Cellar-master appeared in the gateway and, addressing the expectant mob, shouted the welcome statement that his Highness desired his friends of Urach to drink to his health. Barrels of wine were rolled across to the castle gate and the onlookers served with copious draughts. Then the Cellar-master called for silence, and, striking an attitude, he spoke:

'His Highness prays you to drink long life and happiness to his noble bride, the Countess of Urach. Come—Hoch! and again—Hoch!'

'Bride, indeed!' roared the crowd; 'harlot, you mean!' some said, but they drank greedily all the same.

Wilhelmine was waiting in the Golden Hall, and through the open casement she heard the comments of the rabble. 'Harlot, adulteress, witch,' she repeated slowly, as she listened to these epithets used by the men while they drank her health. She raged. 'Ah, you canaille!' she whispered, 'it was I ordered you that good red wine! Blood I will give you to drink another time, blood to choke you.' She drew back from her place near the window. 'But your hatred shall not mar my triumph to-night. God's curse on you, my husband's people!'

The Golden Hall was decked in white flowers, and at one end of the large room, twined and garlanded with roses, a daÏs had been raised, and two huge gilt chairs, the only ones in the apartment, had been placed on this platform. It looked like a throne of King and Queen, and Eberhard Ludwig himself had protested at this uncustomary assumption of a regal superiority over his guests. But Wilhelmine had silenced him with a look. She had pointed to Duke Eberhard's motto.

'Attempto,' she whispered; 'Prussia is a kingdom now, why not Wirtemberg?'

Now Prussia's advancement was an eyesore to South Germany, and Eberhard Ludwig's envious ambition was stirred.

'Attempto,' he murmured as he went to prepare to meet his GeheimrÄthe. The success of this sÉance we already know.

The moments dragged. From the window of the Golden Hall Wilhelmine could see the church clock's slow finger lagging from point to point. Below, the crowd was still drinking and shouting, and the hated woman shuddered when she thought what would be her fate were she at the mercy of that throng which celebrated her wedding festivities.

Coaches rumbled into the courtyard. Soon the Countess heard voices in the White Hall or music-room, where the guests had been requested to assemble, pending the reception in the Golden Hall by his Highness.

Wilhelmine hurried away to complete her preparations for what she intended to be one of the hours of triumph in her career.

She found Madame de Ruth and the maid Maria polishing the jewels she was to wear.

'Quick!' she cried, 'the guests arrive!'

'Yes, my dear,' said Madame de Ruth dryly, 'all Stuttgart is coming here, I am told. The virtuous indignation was not strong enough. Curiosity has brought every one to see what you do.'

'Give me all the jewels, Maria,' was Wilhelmine's only reply.

'Monseigneur le Duc de Wirtemberg et Madame la Comtesse d'Urach!' called Oberhofmarshall Count GrÄvenitz, striking his marshal's staff heavily upon the wooden floor of the corridor outside the Golden Hall. Then the doors flew open, and the new Oberhofmarshall proceeded to the middle of the hall where he repeated his staff-tapping and loud announcement. The guests drew back. 'Really! is she to come in procession like a queen?' 'Upon my soul, this is too much to swallow!' 'Quelle insolence!' One could hear these murmurs run through the assemblage; nevertheless the guests fell back obediently, making room for the solemn entry of his Highness.

'Is she beautiful, at least?' queried a gentleman who, having but recently returned from the army, had not yet seen the famous GrÄvenitzin.

'Pockmarked, and as tall as a grenadier,' said a spiteful voice—a woman's.

'She sings divinely,' said another voice.

'Her notes are very strong, if you mean that! She nearly breaks your ears,' replied the same voice.

Now the musicians struck up a stately measure, and two pages, of the Sittmann family, of course, appeared in the doorway walking backwards. Hofmarshall GrÄvenitz thundered with his baton upon the ground; it must be conceded he seemed to take fondly to the exercise of his new duties. And now Eberhard Ludwig was seen in the doorway. His Highness wore a magnificent costume of white brocade, relieved only by the broad ribands of several high orders, and on his breast the chain of Austria's Golden Fleece. Of a truth, Serenissimus looked a fine Prince, but all eyes were upon the tall figure beside him—the Mecklemburg FrÄulein, the Countess of Urach. Her underskirt was made of cloth of gold, rich and heavy; her huge paniers were of embroidered satin of the GrÄvenitz yellow, as it came to be called in after years; her corsage was yellow also, and from her shoulders fell the white brocade cloak lined and trimmed with ermine, which she had worn on the day of her secret marriage at the Neuhaus. Her breast was literally ablaze with jewels, and the pearls of Wirtemberg, which two hundred years before the Mantuan princess had brought as marriage dowry, hung in ropes round the favourite's neck. So splendid a vision had never met the eyes of the assembled company. The Duchess Johanna Elizabetha had worn these jewels, but they had somehow seemed to disappear in the awkward masses of her ill-chosen garments. You may imagine, however, that her Highness had given the gems unwillingly to Eberhard Ludwig's messenger charged to bring them forthwith to Urach.

Wilhelmine advanced slowly, led by his Highness. She bowed gravely to right and left. The guests were astounded, struck dumb by the huge presumption of the woman; some few returned her salute, others, bewildered and indignant, stared her blankly in the face. Serenissimus led her to the daÏs, and as she took her seat bowed profoundly over her hand. The pages gathered round the steps of the daÏs. Madame de Ruth took up her position beside this pseudo-Duchess's chair. Oberhofmarshall GrÄvenitz stood to the Duke's right, the Sittmann family ranged themselves in a circle near this mock throne. SchÜtz, the fraudulent attorney, mighty fine in brown satin and gaily embroidered waistcoat, took a patronising and curious air as though, accustomed as he was to the ceremony of Vienna's court, he found himself much diverted by this provincial gathering.

Formal presentations began. The Countess of Urach had a gracious smile for each and all, and the guests found themselves in an unpleasant dilemma. It is so difficult to be disagreeable to a smiling woman without actually insulting her; and that would have been dangerous, for who could tell what the future might bring forth?

Thus the ball progressed right merrily, and Wilhelmine's triumph was complete. The formality of the entertainment wore off a little, and the company danced gaily. Wilhelmine did not dance after the first gavotte, whose stately measure she trod with Monseigneur de Zollern, but this was a solemn ceremony. For the rest, the Countess of Urach sat in her gilded chair and conversed with chosen courtiers who were led up to her by the Oberhofmarshall or by Madame de Ruth. It was noticeable how the men lingered near her, and the ladies' angry spite was increased thereby. His Highness danced much and often. He was justly celebrated as the finest, most graceful, most precise dancer of his day, and Stafforth—who compiled a ponderous, pompous memoir of Eberhard Ludwig's journey to England to the court of Queen Anne, and also to the court of France—has left it on record that 'they all stood surprised before my Prince's great agility and marvellous skill.'

So pavane followed gavotte and sarabande and the more modern minuet, and the ball was very brilliant and gay.

Late in the evening SchÜtz, his Highness's own secretary, was called away.

'Affairs of State!' he said airily, but so loudly that many should hear him. A sudden presentiment knocked at Wilhelmine's heart: could this be some disastrous happening come to mar her triumph? She signed to Madame de Ruth.

'A cruel foreboding is over me, dear friend,' she whispered.

'Tut! child, what should it be? Come, forget it, enjoy your hour.'

'Alas! the best hours are always pursued by evil things!' replied Wilhelmine sadly. She turned to Reischach, who stood near her. 'Come and tell me a story of some gallant adventure, Baron! Now let us hear—you and a princess let it be, for I love the stories to which I am accustomed!' She smiled maliciously, but the laughter froze on her lips, for SchÜtz was making his way towards her, and there was a look on his face which told her the foreboding had not erred.

'News from Vienna, Madame,' he said in a low voice when he reached her side.

'Tell me quickly what it is,' she whispered back.

'Imperial mandate to his Highness. I know no more; but the messengers are of rank, and have the Emperor's commands to read the decree to his Highness in person. I fear it is very serious for you.'

Eberhard Ludwig came up gaily. 'Come, Madame ma femme—come and tread a measure with me!' Wilhelmine rose obediently.

'Have the messengers shut into the White Hall, make no disturbance here,' she murmured as she passed SchÜtz.

With smiling face and merry jest she danced the sarabande.

'And now, Monseigneur!' she cried in a ringing voice, when the dance concluded, 'let us end these revels, it grows late! I pray you command the lackeys to bring the Tokay that we may drink our loving-cup with our guests!'

The wine was brought and quickly given round.

'My gentle ladies and noble sirs!' called his Highness, 'I drink to your happiness; I pray you drink to mine!'

The guests raised their glasses, and it was only as they drank that they saw Eberhard Ludwig bowing before Wilhelmine, and they realised with dismay that they had toasted her under the title of 'his Highness's happiness.'