Thus began the reign of one woman at the Court of Augustus II., and it lasted longer than any other of the same kind.
The Court, and indeed the whole city, watched with great interest the course of this intrigue, the end of which could be easily guessed.
Hoym was forbidden to return. Every day the Countesses Reuss and Vitzthum, assisted by the Prince, invented some new pretext for bringing the King and the beautiful Anna together; every day she was bolder and more familiar with him, but since the evening spent at Countess Reuss's house, Augustus had made no further advances, neither had he heard from her anything different from what she had then said. The beautiful Anna showed no signs of yielding, and at length her coolness and self-possession began to alarm every one. They feared the King would be discouraged, and retire, and that then some one else would be suggested to him. Every time they attempted to question Countess Hoym, she replied that she would become a wife, but never a mistress. She demanded, if not an immediate marriage, to which there was an obstacle in the person of Queen Christine Eberhardyne, at least a solemn promise from the King that he would marry her, in the event of his becoming a widower.
The condition was most strange and unusual; in other times, or in other courts, or amongst a less light-headed people, it would have been impossible. The first time Fürstenberg mentioned it to the King, Augustus did not reply. A few hours later, he said,--
"I am already weary of this long courtship, we must end it once and for ever."
"Break it?" inquired the Prince.
"We shall see," replied the King briefly.
His confidant could learn nothing farther.
One day the King ordered a hundred thousand gold thalers to be brought him from the treasury. The bag was enormous, and two strong men could scarcely carry it. When they had deposited their heavy burden, the King seized it, and lifted it without the slightest difficulty. Fürstenberg, who was present, did not dare ask for what purpose such an amount was destined, the King's face was far too gloomy. It was clear that events of considerable importance were at hand. The King was silent. He visited Princess Teschen almost daily. That Princess almost drowned herself in tears when the name of Countess Hoym was mentioned in her presence, but she quickly dried them when she perceived the King. In this state of uncertainty several weeks passed away--a time that seemed to the courtiers all too long. They knew not to whom they should bow, nor to whom they should go with gossip. At length Hoym was not only permitted, but even commanded to return, for the treasury was empty, and he alone could fill it.
The day the Secretary to the Treasury was expected to return, Augustus, having placed the bag containing the hundred thousand thalers in his carriage, gave orders that he should be driven to Hoym's palace.
It was towards evening, and foggy. Countess Hoym was sitting solitary and thoughtful in her boudoir. Being unaccustomed to receive visitors, she was greatly surprised at hearing the voices of men conversing on the stairs, and her astonishment increased when, without any warning, the door opened and the King entered the room.
The door was immediately closed behind him. Anna was terrified, and seized the pistol which, ever since her arrival in Dresden, she had kept lying on the table. She had frequently been joked with about this precaution. Although she concealed the weapon in the folds of her dress, the King had noticed her action.
"You do not need to defend yourself," said he.
Anna stared at him, but was incapable of uttering a word.
"Listen," continued Augustus, throwing the bag of gold on the floor with such violence that the ducats were scattered. "I can give you gold, honours, and titles in abundance."
Then, taking a horse-shoe he had brought with him, he broke it, and cast the fragments on the piles of gold.
"But," he added, "I can also break resistance as I have just broken that iron. You have to choose between iron and gold, peace and war, love and hatred."
Anna stood looking with indifference on the gold and the broken horse-shoe.
"Your Majesty," said she, after a moment's silence, "I do not fear death, I do not wish for gold. You can break me as you broke that horse-shoe, but you cannot do anything against my will. Why do you not bring me the thing that can conquer me? Why do you not offer me your heart?"
Augustus rushed towards her.
"That has been yours for a long time," he exclaimed.
"I neither see it, nor feel it," said the Countess slowly. "The heart is shown in deeds. A heart that loves truly would never wish to dishonour the object of its love. My Lord, I cannot conceal from you that I love you. I could not resist your love, but I cannot stain it!"
The King knelt before her, but Anna retreated.
"Your Majesty, listen to me, I pray you."
"Command me!"
"Anna Hoym could never be yours except she felt she were worthy of you."
"What are your conditions?"
"A written promise that you will marry me."
Hearing this, Augustus frowned, and drooped his head.
"Believe me, Anna, such a condition is full of danger for yourself."
"I will not give it up. I would give my life for it. My honour requires it. Then I should be your Majesty's wife, in thought and in hope. Else you shall not touch me; I will kill myself if you do!"
The King retreated.
"Very well, then," said he, "if that is your wish, shall have it."
Anna gave a cry of joy.
"All the rest is as nothing in comparison with that!" she exclaimed in a voice full of happiness. "But first I must be divorced from Hoym."
"That shall be done to-morrow. I will have it signed in the consistory," said the King hastily. "Now, what further?"
"Nothing more on my side," she replied in a broken voice, as she knelt before the King. "That is sufficient for me."
"But it is not sufficient for the King, for me," said Augustus, seizing her in his arms, from which, however, Anna escaped by slipping down on the floor.
"I believe your Majesty's word," she exclaimed; "but before I permit myself to be touched, the chains that bind me must be broken, the divorce must be pronounced, your promise signed. I am Hoym's wife, I have sworn to be faithful to him--I must keep my oath."
Augustus kissed her hand.
"I am your slave, you are my lady! Hoym returns to-day, leave him; to-morrow I will have a palace ready for you. You shall have a hundred thousand thalers a year, I will lay my whole kingdom at your feet, and with it, myself."
Seeing him kneeling at her feet, Anna kissed his forehead, then she sprang backwards.
"Until to-morrow!" she said.
"Am I to leave you?" inquired Augustus.
"Until to-morrow," she repeated.
Then the King rose and left her. The heaps of gold remained lying on the floor.
That same night Count Hoym returned home. He hastened to his wife's apartment, but found the door locked, and, on inquiring of the servants, was informed that their lady was unwell and had retired to rest, after giving orders that no one should disturb her.
During his absence, which was of an unnecessary length, the Count had grown seriously uneasy about his wife. It was true that his spies wrote to him daily, informing him of her every movement, but as she was always accompanied by his sister, he could not foresee any danger. He felt, however, that the intrigue was growing ever stronger and stronger, and that it threatened his matrimonial life. Still he was powerless to prevent it, for at its head was the King, and him Hoym feared, for he knew him better than any one else did. Besides, he could not forget the fate that had overtaken Beichling. The best guarantee of safety that he had, lay in his wife's character, her pride, and her love for her good reputation.
When he returned to Dresden, he knew nothing but what his spies had informed him; in the city, and from the people of the court, he could not expect to learn anything.
The hour was late, but although at the King's castle a feast was in progress, Hoym had no wish to go thither; instead, he went straight to his own home, and having found his wife's door locked, he also retired to rest.
The following day the King sent for him, and he was obliged to obey the summons, and go to the castle without having seen his wife.
The King received him very kindly, he even embraced him, and this Hoym regarded as the worst possible sign. Next Augustus reproached him with having remained away so long, and although he himself had commanded that the Count should not return, he acted as though he knew nothing of the order.
Hoym gazed into the King's eyes in astonishment.
"It is evident that you have some enemies at court," said the King. "They wished to keep you away from me, but fear nothing, I am your friend, I will not allow you to be wronged."
Hoym thanked the King for his favour. Then, during their further conversation, His Majesty complained that he had not sufficient money.
"Dear Hoym," said he, "you must procure it, I need it so very badly."
It was towards noon when Hoym at length returned to his home. He had scarcely crossed the threshold of his room, than Anna, dressed in black, appeared before him. Never before had she looked more beautiful, calm, and dignified.
Hoym sprang towards her, but she received him coldly, and kept him at a distance.
"I have been waiting for you," she said. "I have come to thank you for every good thing you have done for me, and to assure you that I shall never forget it. But at the same time, I have to tell you that our marriage, which is not based on mutual sympathy, and therefore cannot give us any guarantee of happiness, must come to an end. We must be separated. You know I always speak frankly. The King has been good enough to assure me of his favour--I cannot refuse it. Moreover, I love him, and am determined to obey him. But I cannot be false to you. I am come, therefore, to ask you for a divorce; this will save the honour of your name. We cannot act otherwise. Should you consent to a divorce, you may rest assured of my gratitude; I will also endeavour to assist you in everything. Should you, on the contrary, prefer to resist my wish, it will not in anywise alter my determination, but it will cause me to forget my gratitude towards you, and to remember you only as a hindrance to my happiness."
From the first words of his wife's artful and formal speech, Hoym had guessed everything. He drew back as though struck by a thunderbolt. He had not suspected that matters had gone so far as that. His pale face became crimson. Several times he would have interrupted her, but the magnetic gaze that Anna fixed upon him kept him silent until her speech was ended. The indifference and self-possession with which she spoke filled Hoym with indignation.
By the time she had finished speaking, his anger was so great that he was unable to utter a word.
"Madam," shouted he at length, "you reward me nicely for having drawn you from your obscure corner. You will leave home and husband to depend on the favour of a most frivolous man."
But Anna did not allow him to proceed with his speech.
"Enough of this!" she exclaimed. "I know all that you are going to say; I know also what I intend doing. The care for my future fate you can leave to me. Nothing will alter my determination. I only ask you to choose and tell me whether, or no, you will consent to the divorce. Are we to be friends or enemies? Yes or no?"
Hoym was one of the most licentious of the courtiers; his relations with his wife were of the worst, but the moment he realized that he was to lose her for ever, grief, jealousy, and anger overwhelmed him to such a degree that he was unable to speak.
As was his custom when enraged, he began to tear his wig, and rush to and fro across the room, overthrowing the chairs as he went. He clenched his hands, stood for a few moments at a window, gazing into the street beneath, then he rushed threateningly towards his wife, and vainly endeavoured to speak. Then again he hurried from her. In short, he looked just like a madman who does not know what he is doing.
But all this outburst of fury made not the least impression on Anna. She only waited quietly, looking at him ironically. At length, being unable to obtain an answer, she said, coldly,--
"I see you cannot decide between peace and war. I would only remind you that war with me and the King would be a trifle dangerous."
She left the room as she spoke.
Hoym still continued his mad rushes to and fro.
He tore his clothes, he sat down, rose again, and gave way to every possible action of despair. And in this he continued until he was interrupted by the entrance of Vitzthum.
"Hoym!" exclaimed his visitor, "what is the matter?"
"You know that better than I do. It is you, my dearest friends, who have prepared this surprise for me. Anna leaves me! The King requires her! Why did she ever marry me? Why does she wish to make me the laughing-stock of the people?"
Vitzthum let him have his storm out, then he spoke.
"Listen, Hoym," said he. "I can understand that you would regret parting with the beautiful Anna, but you know well that she never loved you, and you led her such a life, that I doubt if you really loved her. Thus, then, there can be no question of love in the matter. Let us now talk calmly; I have come here by the King's command."
"And what, pray, does His Majesty command?" inquired Hoym sarcastically.
"He wishes your consent to the divorce, in return for which he promises you his favour," replied Vitzthum. "If you do not consent, I pity you, my dear fellow, but I must warn you that you expose yourself to great danger. You cannot fight against the King. The slightest wrong done to the Countess will be regarded aslèse majestatis."
"But why do you wish for my consent?" exclaimed Hoym. "The King can do anything he chooses without that. The Consistory will obey him. Let him take from me my most precious possession, but he must not ask me to thank him for so doing."
Vitzthum smiled.
"It is a proof of his favour, that he asks your permission to do a thing which he can as easily do without it. From this you should see that he desires to retain you in your present position."
"Only because he has need of me," muttered Hoym.
Vitzthum sat down on the sofa.
"Dear Count, think it well over; when I leave the room it will be too late."
Again Hoym rushed wildly about the room, overthrowing everything that came in his way. At length, throwing himself down on a chair, he began to laugh; but it was a laugh full of bitterness.
"Hoym, the King is awaiting your decision," said Vitzthum.
"It is mere irony to ask a man whom you have stripped of his clothes, for permission to keep them, and threaten him with a club should he refuse. Therefore, my dear brother-in-law, you will tell His Majesty that I am very grateful to him for taking the burden of that woman from me. Tell him I consent, that I am glad, happy, merry, that I kiss His Majesty's hand. It is a great honour to be able to offer the King a half-eaten fruit--ha! ha! ha!"
"You had better drink a glass of iced-water," said Vitzthum, taking his hat.
He shook hands with Hoym.
"Believe me," said he, in a whisper, "you have come out of this better than any of the others. I will tell the King you consent. You will cool off after a time."
The King was eagerly awaiting the answer, but, being impatient, he had ordered that he should be carried to Hoym's palace, where he entered Anna's apartments. Just as Vitzthum was preparing to go to the castle, he was informed that the King was waiting for him, only a few paces away. From his countenance, and the smile with which he entered His Majesty's presence, Augustus guessed immediately that Hoym would not oppose his wishes. But the beautiful Anna, addressing the ambassador, said,--
"You were more fortunate than I was."
"No one could be more fortunate than you are," replied Vitzthum, bowing, "but I was more patient. I allowed Hoym to work off his excitement, after that he consented."
The light of joy shone in Anna's black eyes.
"You bring me freedom and happiness!" she cried. "How can I ever repay you?"
A box lay on the table; this she seized and handed it to Vitzthum.
The King at once approached to see what it contained. In it was Anna's miniature.
"Ah!" exclaimed he, "that is too great a reward for you, Vitzthum. I confiscate it in the name of the King, and in exchange I will give you twenty thousand thalers."
Anna threw herself on the King's breast.
The day following, the Consistory granted the divorce, and on the third day this was, by Anna's wish, placarded on all the public buildings.
The same day, Anna left her husband's house and took up her abode in a mansion situated close to the palace, to which it was joined by means of a covered gallery, which had been constructed in a few hours.
The news spread like wild-fire throughout the city.
Countess Hoym had abandoned her husband's name, and had taken the title of Cosel, from an estate that Augustus had presented to her. He also intended to obtain the title of Countess for her from the Emperor Joseph, and, instead of the house she now occupied, she was to have a palace built for her similar to that described in the Arabian Nights.
Never for a long time had any of his favourites taken such a hold on the King's mind, heart, and passion. He passed whole days in her company, and was invisible to every one--indeed the whole world was forgotten by him.
Princess Teschen, towards whom, up to the last moment, the King had shown great tenderness, was the first to learn what had occurred. The divorce, the lodging near the castle, were sure proofs that her reign was ended. The King ceased visiting her, yet she still retained her liberty, and did not fall into disgrace.
Augustus was obliged to treat her kindly through fear of the Cardinal Radziejewski, over whom the Princess had considerable influence, for that prelate could cause the King considerable annoyance. The spies employed by Vitzthum could gain no information as to how the Princess intended to act. They tried to discover her secrets through her sister, Baroness Glasenapp, but the Princess was silent, and spent her time weeping. No one knew whether she was going to remain in Dresden, to retire to her estates of Hoyerswerde, or to return to Poland. In her palace no preparations for departure were visible, all remained the same as it had ever been, except that the visitors were less numerous. Those servants who still remained faithful to the Princess were suspected of spying, therefore every one was silent, and evenings were sad.
Prince Ludwig of Würtemburg alone visited her more frequently and stayed longer.
The court intrigues that had been directed towards the overthrow of Princess Teschen and the instalment in her place of Lady Cosel were, after the latter's victory, turned in another direction.
Fürstenberg, who, at the commencement of the intrigue, had been employed by the King as his intermediary, was now compelled to yield his place to Vitzthum. The rivalry of these two parties began in the court of Augustus II., who always took the greatest possible care to prevent the persons surrounding him from living peaceably together. He excited one against another, favouring now this person, now that, and giving each to understand that the other was his enemy. The mere sight of angry faces gave him great pleasure. In consequence of his mischief-making, one of his courtiers accused the other, and thus the King was made aware of all abuses.
Vitzthum was Hoym's brother-in-law. His family came from Thuringia, but for a long time it had been employed in the service of the Kings of Saxony. Grand Falconer Count Frederyk Vitzthum von Eckstadt was now about thirty; he had been at court from the time he was a page, and had been Augustus' friend since childhood. He always travelled with him, and after the downfall of the great Chancellor, Beichling, in 1703, he had obtained for himself the rank of Grand Falconer.
The King was fonder of Vitzthum than of the others, perhaps because he was not afraid of him. Vitzthum was not a genius; and then, too, he was always affable, polite, serviceable, a perfect courtier, and a very good-looking man. He mingled in no intrigues, he had no ambition, and he served the King faithfully.
Besides and behind Vitzthum, stood his wife, Hoym's sister, one of the cleverest intriguantes of the court, at which the women played almost as important a part as the men. Countess Vitzthum was still very pretty. She was tall, as were the majority of the ladies of the Saxon aristocracy. She had a fresh complexion, sapphire-blue eyes, a nose slightlyretroussé, and she was so merry that she could be recognized from afar by her laugh. She played with the affairs of the court as one plays some game; she spied for the sake of spying, she listened at doors, carried gossip, set snares, kindled passions, excited quarrels, reconciled enemies; and besides all this, she managed her house and her husband's affairs admirably; without her, money would often have been lacking. Like her husband, she had a passion for gambling, but she gambled carefully and had good luck. She acquired estates, and pushed her husband, for whom, as he had no ambition, she was forced to be ambitious.
The Vitzthums did not belong to the most powerful party among the King's favourites; apparently they stood aside and lower in the scale than Flemming, Fürstenberg, Plug, and others, yet notwithstanding this, they were acquainted with every secret, influenced the King as well as the courtiers, and could be very dangerous foes. At the commencement of Cosel's reign, they took up a position that led her to suppose that they would share her likes and dislikes.
A few days after Cosel had taken possession of the house near the castle, the whole court felt that the new Queen would not be so weak, so inclined to weep and faint, as Princess Teschen had been. New life animated every one. The proud and beauteous lady considered herself as the King's second wife, and acted accordingly.
Augustus himself was only her most obedient admirer.
The court of Augustus II. was not lacking in droll and original figures, whose business it was to amuse the King.
Every morning from the Old City there came on horseback Joseph Frölich, the fool, known to every one, from the street urchins to the ministers of state. Once, when Augustus had been in a very good humour, he had even ordered a medal to be struck in his honour, bearing this inscription:Semper Frölich, nunquam Traurig. Frölich was so accustomed to laugh as a matter of duty that he made others laugh and laughed himself from morning till night.
Frölich was small, round, and pink, and always dressed in a swallow-tail coat, of which, thanks to the munificence of the King, he had ninety-nine. He wore a tall, pointed hat, ornamented with a feather. Instead of a chamberlain's key, he carried a large silver vase on his back similar in form to a key, but as this was hollow it served as a drinking-cup, and from it Frölich was obliged to drink whenever the King ordered him to be present at his drinking parties.
As a fool, he would perhaps have wearied the King by his monotonous gaiety had he not had such a contrast in the melancholyrôleplayed by Baron Schmeidel. Schmeidel and Frölich, as Heraclites and Democritus, continually quarrelling, amused both Augustus and his court. When these two were exhausted, there were secondary fools, Saumagen and Leppert, to replace them. If to these we add the giant, Cojanus; twelve dwarfs, with the famous Hante and Traum at their head; and a fair number of negroes and albinos, we shall have some idea of the crowd whose sole duty it was to amuse their sovereign.
Frölich, the fool, was an intelligent and not a bad man. He lived quietly and saved his money, and very likely laughed in his sleeve at those who laughed at him. Every morning Frölich, dressed in his curious coat and hat, rode to the castle, from whence he returned, frequently very late at night, to his own house, called Narrenhaus, which was situated close to the bridge. It was very seldom that any one called on him, therefore Fraulein Lote, his elderly housekeeper, was greatly astonished when, very early one morning, she heard a knock at the door.
The fool was not yet dressed, neither was his horse ready, and the knock frightened him, for he feared that some capricious fancy had seized the King and induced him to send after him. Fraulein Lote was of the same opinion when, on peeping through the window, she perceived a tall young man in the court livery standing on the threshold.
After having glanced at him, Lote inquired what he wanted.
"I should like to say a few words to Frölich," said the new-comer.
"Is it from the King?"
There was no answer; but as secret messengers were by no means uncommon, Lote did not dare to refuse him admittance, so, opening the door, she ushered him into the room where the fool was dressing. Frölich turned towards the stranger as he entered, and, immediately assuming his rôle, saluted him with exaggerated politeness, and, bending half-double, inquired,--
"What can we do for your Excellency?"
"Mr. Frölich," said the stranger modestly, "do not joke at a poor man; you may rather be excellency than me."
"What?" said Frölich, "I before you? Was it the King that sent you with such a joke?"
"No; I am come on my own account, and I beg you for a moment's conversation."
"An audience, eh?" said the fool, looking important. "Donnerwetter! Have I become a minister? But at our Court everything is possible. The ministers like each other so well that soon none of them will remain. Then your turn and mine will come; only I must be the Secretary to the Treasury."
Heedless of this buffoonery, the new-comer remained sorrowful.
"Well, I will grant you a moment's conversation," continued the fool, seating himself in an arm-chair and taking the pose of a person of great importance. Yet still the stranger did not smile.
"Mr. Frölich," said he, "you will be surprised when you learn that I come to you on a very serious matter."
"Then you have not entered the proper door."
"You are mistaken. I see you every day at Court, and I know from your face that you are a very good-hearted man."
"My dear man, I am sure you wish to borrow some money," interrupted the fool, "but I must tell you at once that it is useless. I give everything--advice, smiles, bows, but not money! I haven't any; the King has no money, so how could I get any?"
"I did not dream of asking you for money."
"Ah!" breathed the fool, "then what the deuce do you want from me?"
"I want to ask your protection."
"The idea! The protection of a fool! I see you wear the Court livery, but you have a foreign accent. Who are you?"
"I am a Pole; my name is Raymond Zaklika."
"A Pole, then a nobleman, that's understood," said the fool; "be seated, I respect the nobility, and as I am a burgher, I shall stand."
"Don't joke, Mr. Frölich!"
"I should swallow my own tongue, if I didn't joke. But we have not much time, so tell me what you want."
For a few moments the youth was unable to speak; the good humour of the fool evidently disconcerted him.
"Permit me first to tell you a little about myself," said he at length.
"Only a little? willingly."
"I came to the Court by a mere chance. I am sure you must have heard of me. Unfortunately for me, I can break horseshoes and cups as well as the King does. For that I have been ordered to remain at the Court."
"I remember now," laughed the fool, "and I do not envy you in the least. Who was so simple as to advise you to rival the King?"
"Since I have been at the Court the life there has disgusted me; every one avoids me; I haven't a friend, a protector; I have no one!"
"But to wish to choose me as a friend and protector, is as good an idea as the breaking the horseshoes was. Man, if I could break anvils, I would not break a straw, for fear of exciting the jealousy of others; I should not like to be in your place."
"That is why I thought that at least Frölich would pity me."
The old fool's eyes dilated, then suddenly his face grew stern and sad, and he folded his arms across his breast: then, advancing towards Zaklika, he took hold of his hand, and began to feel his pulse, as though he had been a doctor.
"I am afraid you have lost your common sense," said he quietly.
"I shouldn't be surprised," said the youth, smiling.
The fool's face brightened again, as though from habit.
"What is the matter in question?" he inquired.
"I wish to get discharged from the King's service."
"That's very easily done," said the fool. "Do some stupid thing, then they will build a scaffold in the new market, and you will be hanged."
"There's plenty of time for that," replied Zaklika.
"What do you propose doing, should they discharge you? Are you going to return to your own country, and wrestle with the bear?"
"No, I shall remain at Dresden."
"Are you in love with a pretty girl?"
The youth blushed.
"No," replied he, "I shall give fencing and riding lessons, or I might enter the military service."
"Do they not give you enough to eat at the Court?"
"We have plenty."
"Do they not pay you?"
"They do."
"Then why don't you like your position?"
The youth looked confused.
"I have nothing to do," said he, "and it worries me.
"It's strange!" said the fool, "you have plenty of bread, and you are searching for misery. But I don't see how I could be useful to you."
"Very easily. I very frequently stand by the door; by some witty saying you could draw the King's attention towards me, and when he is in a good humour he has different fancies."
"Suppose he has a fancy to shoot you?"
"You would protect me."
"Donnerwetter!" exclaimed the fool, "for the first time in my life I see that I am a man of importance, for people come to ask me for protection. You have opened my eyes. Out of pure gratitude I should like to do something for you! Who knows! They say that Kyan is to be appointed commandant of Königstein, then I could at least become Court preacher! I grow ambitious!"
And having seated himself again in an arm-chair, he began to laugh, at the same time looking pityingly on the young man.
"The end of the world!Donnerwetter!A Polish noble asks a fool for protection, and the Swedes, who eat herrings, beat the Saxons."
The fool saluted, in the fashion of a minister closing an interview. Zaklika took the hint, and left the room.
It was a strange idea to seek help from a fool, but his strong love for Countess Hoym had put it into his head. He wished to enter the service of the woman, to look at whom was his greatest bliss. He desired nothing further than to look at his goddess. He never dreamt of anything else. He wished to be her guard, her unknown defender; he guessed that she must have many enemies, he feared for her safety, and he longed to lay down his life in her service. The youth had a strange disposition; although apparently slow, he had an iron will. He had determined to gain a place nearer that lovely woman, and it was for her sake that he had gone to ask protection of the fool, and for her sake he was ready to bear still greater humiliation.
Cosel, intoxicated by her love for the beautiful Augustus, had not forgotten the boy who, when she was at Laubegast, used to stand up to his neck in the water in order to catch a glimpse of her. She smiled at the reminiscence, about which she had never said a word to any one. He excited her curiosity, that was all, and she frequently looked after him as he stood among the crowd.
Augustus' love for the beautiful Lady Cosel did not cause him to give up drinking with his friends. For many reasons this became more necessary to him. Amidst his drunken courtiers he could sow discord, which he used as a tool to support his own power.
That day was a day of revelry in the castle. Augustus was in an excellent humour, and was planning how he might best surround his favourite with entertainments, magnificence, and luxury.
Hoym, who still retained his position as Secretary to the Treasury, and whose tears for the loss of his wife the King had dried by a present of fifty thousand thalers, was again among those who came to drink with the King. Hoym was more necessary to Augustus than any of the others, for money was necessary to him, and the secretary knew how to provide it.
But the most clever methods of obtaining it had been almost exhausted, and now they would be obliged to employ some extraordinary means by which they might obtain the required gold. Augustus, like many of the rulers of his day, believed in alchemy. They did not doubt but that there existed some marvellous mixture which could change any metal into the gold that was so necessary to happiness.
At times no other subject was mentioned at Court than how gold could be made. Every one had a laboratory. Chancellor Beichling would not have been sent to Königstein had not Fürstenberg persuaded the King that he could find a man capable of making gold, and much more gold than Beichling could squeeze out of the country.
The savant on whom Fürstenberg depended was a simple apothecary, by name Johan Friedrich Bottiger, born at Schleiz, in Saxony. He had been manufacturing a gold-making mixture in Berlin, and Frederick I. had wished to keep him for himself, but Bottiger succeeded in making his escape, and came to Saxony, where he received a warm welcome, and was shut up in a castle and ordered to make gold for King Augustus II.
Fürstenberg was working with him, and the King firmly believed that any day they might produce as much gold as they wanted.
They flattered Bottiger, they surrounded him with luxury, but they kept him securely guarded. Years passed by, and yet the apothecary had not been successful in making his mixture. They sent the King many things with which to make gold, but in every case it was necessary before using them to prepare oneself by prayer, and to have a pure heart. Augustus prayed, confessed, sat by the crucible, but he could not make gold. Fortunately a dog overturned the mercury sent by Bottiger, and they were obliged to use other, and so the ill-success of the work was attributed to the dog. Bottiger was kept in constant confinement in Fürstenberg's castle, and, despite all the comforts with which he was surrounded, he nearly went mad, but still he did not succeed in making gold. Bottiger used to give balls and dinners in his prison, and during the past few years had cost the King forty thousand thalers.
When Lady Cosel succeeded Princess Teschen the famous alchemist was confined in a tower in the castle, where he busied himself preparing prescriptions for making gold. Great was the expectation of the Court, and none doubted that Bottiger would succeed at last.
The evening of the day on which Zaklika sought the protection of the fool the King, accompanied by Vitzthum, Fürstenberg, and the Countesses Reuss and Vitzthum, supped with Lady Cosel.
After supper, Frölich, being called to entertain the company, imitated the alchemist, and brought in some dirt in a crucible. Such a joke caused Augustus to look gloomy. Cosel, who had heard something about Bottiger, began to inquire about him in a whisper. The King was unwilling to speak of the matter, but to please his favourite he told her all about the alchemist, what a valuable man he was, and how they always kept watch over him, lest he should escape.
"Your Majesty," said Frölich, "so long as he is not watched by a very strong man, the possibility is that he will escape. Your Majesty alone would be a proper guard for him, or a man equally strong--but such an one it would be impossible to find, did we search throughout the whole world."
"There you are mistaken," said Augustus; "I have at my Court a man as strong as myself."
"I have never heard of him."
It was in this way that Augustus was reminded of Zaklika.
"And what does this Hercules look like?" inquired Cosel.
"Summon him," commanded the King.
Poor Raymond, directly he entered the King's presence, made use of the opportunity to ask for his discharge, but Augustus shook his head.
"I cannot discharge you," said he, "for I have need of your services. I have a treasure which I intend to trust to your strength and honesty. From this moment you belong to the court of Madame Cosel; you will watch over her safety, and risk your life for her if necessary."
Zaklika could scarcely believe his ears; he blushed, and said nothing. Chance had served him better than the fool.
Madame Cosel was much surprised, and she also blushed, for she remembered her meetings with him at Laubegast. However, she was careful not to say a word about them, and so Zaklika obtained the position he had so coveted.
The reign of Countess Cosel (she had already obtained the title of Francis I.) promised to be a long one. Having obtained a written promise of marriage from the King, she considered herself a second Queen, and as such she acted. She was almost always in Augustus' company, and she was ready alike for a journey or for war. No peril caused her the least alarm.
Soon she knew his character, and was able to discern all the threads of intrigue. She kept him constantly entertained by her calmness of mind and unfailing gaiety; she ruled over him, and gained fresh influence over him every day.
It was soon clear to every one that Cosel was invincible. If the frivolous King forgot her for a few moments, she knew perfectly how to hasten out to meet him and within a few hours had regained her former influence over him. Her beauty seemed to increase rapidly. In vain did jealous women look for some change in her appearance, for some weariness in her manner, she bloomed continually, as though perpetual youth had been granted her.
The following year, the King ordered a palace to be built for her, near to the castle. This building was a masterpiece of art. It was called the Palace of the Four Seasons, for there were different apartments for the different seasons; cool rooms for summer, and bright, warm, and sunny ones for winter. The former were adorned with marble, the latter with tapestry. The most costly and valuable articles that Europe could supply in the way of furniture, trinkets, carpets, dresses, &c., were to be found here. The army could not be paid, but the palace was marvellous.
A splendid ball was given as a house-warming, and Countess Cosel, covered with diamonds, victorious, and looking like some beautiful goddess, leaned on the King's arm, whom, in secret, she called her husband. Frivolous Augustus, although not entirely faithful, yet loved Cosel best of all. She was indeed most bewitching, and foreigners who saw her at the zenith of her glory spoke of her with enthusiasm.
Cosel extended her influence, and made friends with great ability, but she could not overcome the jealousy and fear of those who had any reason to be afraid of her. In vain the clergy, scandalized at the King's open attachment to her, began to preach against beautiful Bathsheba, and one day Gerber, a famous preacher of those times, spoke against her so strongly that there was murmuring in church.
Throughout the whole day nothing was spoken of but Cosel Bathsheba. In the evening the King's favourite was informed of the attack that had been made on her by the preacher. Augustus, coming into her apartment, found her weeping.
"What is the matter, my beautiful goddess?" he exclaimed, seizing her hands.
"Your Majesty, I beseech you for justice," she replied, sobbing. "You say that you love me, then protect me from public insult."
"What is the matter?" asked the King uneasily.
"I ask for the punishment of Gerber! An example must be made of this arrogant priest, who does not even respect the crown. Gerber said I was Bathsheba."
Augustus smiled.
"I am not Bathsheba, I have no wish to be her! I am your wife, my lord! You must punish him," cried Anna, kneeling before him.
But Augustus only answered kindly,--
"A priest can say anything he likes once a week, and I can do nothing to prevent him. Did he pronounce a single word outside the church, I would punish him. The church shelters him."
Gerber was not punished, but he made no further mention of Bathsheba.
During those most disastrous years that followed, the King's love increased. The wild Charles XII., a severe and merciless soldier, with hair cut short, and wearing enormous boots that reached higher than his knees, persecuted the King covered in velvet and lace, who skirmished against him clad in golden armour.
Many marvels were told about him. Augustus listened, and was silent. The Saxon Army was defeated. Despite the exertions of Flemming, Prebendowski, and Dombski, the prestige of the most magnificent monarch in Europe was diminishing in Poland. Countess Königsmark, a former favourite, sent over a secret mission, but could accomplish nothing. Charles XII. had no desire to speak either with her or with any one else. Good fortune abandoned Augustus II. Bottiger could not make gold, Hoym was unable to supply it, and Cosel wanted millions. The people, not wishing to serve in the army, ran away and hid themselves in the mountains, whilst the preachers vehemently denounced the robbery of the country.
The nobility, although very respectful, resisted paying such heavy taxes.
The King was frequently in a very bad humour, but it never lasted long, for Cosel smiled and her lord's face brightened. Countess Cosel had no allies, but she did not want them, she felt she was stronger than them all. The courtiers were frightened.
Vitzthum alone still enjoyed the favours of the King and his favourite, for he cared not for politics, and loved Augustus like a brother.
The years passed one after the other, full of various incidents. Fortune was not yet tired of persecuting this most magnificent of monarchs. The Swedes were victorious, and threatened to drive him from his throne. Augustus resisted as best he could, grieved, and endeavoured to counterbalance adversity by indulging in merry-making.
But hunting parties, banquets, balls, masquerades, and theatres, all were suddenly interrupted by the news that the Swedes had invaded Saxony. Charles XII. had pursued the enemy into his own country. Fear seized on every one.
After the defeat at Frauenstadt isolated groups of deserters returned, and these were captured and hanged, or shot down, for not having done their duty. On September 1st Charles XII. invaded Saxony at the head of twenty thousand men. It was impossible to fight against them, so they were obliged to feed them. Augustus' small army escaped to Würzburgh. Dresden, Sizendorf, Königstein, and Sonnenstein had garrisons.
With Charles XII. came the new King of Poland, Stanislaus Leszczynski. Dresden was deserted. The Queen went to her family at Bayreuth, her mother went to Magdeburg, and then to Denmark.
Augustus was obliged to resign the crown of Poland in favour of Stanislaus Leszczynski, and in 1706 a treaty was signed at Altranstadt, but the Swedes did not leave Saxony.
During the war, and all the bloody horrors that accompanied it, Augustus remained still the same; love played the most important part in his life. He lost kingdoms, but he conquered hearts. He still loved the Countess Cosel, but whenever he was absent from her, he led a life of dissipation. Now, more than ever, he required distraction, and his courtiers, who wished to get rid of Cosel, did everything they could to displace her in his affections.
Fürstenberg, Countess Reuss, and the whole clique of her enemies, disappointed in their ambitions, did their best to procure her downfall. But, confident in her beauty, Cosel cared nothing for their efforts. She only smiled at their vain attempts. Her relations with the King were by this time further strengthened by the birth of a daughter. The proud woman persuaded herself that Augustus could not find another like her; she alone was capable of participating in his pleasures, and, besides, she was afraid of neither firing, mad riding, nor campaigning.
Yet, while she was with him in Warsaw, the King betrayed her with the daughter of a French wine merchant. Having learnt what had occurred, Anna threatened the King that she would shoot him, but Augustus only laughed, kissed her hands, and obtained forgiveness. In truth, despite his side wooings, the King loved Anna best, she alone was able to amuse him, and he was happiest when with her.
The war, the devastation of the country, the loss of the Polish crown, did not diminish any portion of Cosel's luxury. Amidst all these calamities the King played the rôle of demi-god with a serene countenance. From the clatter of arms, Augustus, after having signed a shameful treaty, returned to Dresden, and the carriage had scarcely stopped in the courtyard of the castle, when he sprang out and rushed to Cosel's apartment.
At the door of her room he found the faithful Zaklika, leaning against a chair, plunged in deep thought. Seeing the King, Raymond sprang to his feet, and stopped him.
"Your Majesty, the Countess is ill; she expects to be delivered."
The King pushed him aside and entered.
There was silence in all the rooms. At the door of the chamber Augustus heard the sound of a baby crying. Cosel, white as marble, exhausted by suffering, and unable to utter a word, stretched forth both her hands and pointed towards the infant. The King took it in his arms, and kissed it. Then he sat down beside the bed, and covered his face with his hands.
"Anna," said he, "the world will look on me with contempt, and will cease to love me. Good fortune has deserted Augustus; I am conquered, defeated!"
"Augustus," said Anna, sobbing, "I shall love you more than ever, now you are unhappy."
"I need such a consolation," rejoined the King gloomily. "My enemies pursue me, my allies are helpless. Every one bows to the victors. I am indeed most miserable."
Thus an hour passed; the sick woman needed rest. The King left her, and was speedily surrounded by generals and ministers, Flemming, Fürstenberg, Plug, Hoym, and others, who all rushed to him, terrified at the calamities that had fallen upon Saxony. They all looked at him, searching for traces of grief. But egotism had stifled all feeling in him; so long as he himself was well, he cared nothing for the rest; he did not even blush.
On the 15th of December Augustus disappeared. He, Plug, and one servant rode to Leipzic to see Charles XII., for the King was convinced that if his stern adversary saw the serenity of his face and the magnificence of his apparel, he would grant him better terms.
There could not have been a greater contrast than that presented by these two enemies. Charles XII. looked like a Puritan, Augustus like a courtier of Louis XIV. They saluted with great cordiality, and kissed each other. Their private conversation lasted for an hour, and by the time it was ended Augustus looked pale and exhausted.
That day spent with Charles XII. weighed heavily on the King, and he never spoke of it to any one. The following day Charles returned his visit; the treaty, however, remained unchanged.
The year that followed was a very hard one for the King, who was anxious to get rid of the Swedes, even at a great sacrifice. Augustus spent many weary days, travelling between Altranstadt, Moritzburg, and Leipzic, trying to obtain the ratification of the treaty.
Augustus and Charles met frequently, but the latter never wished to talk about politics; his secretaries, Piper and Cedermhiolm, were for that.
The treaty was eventually ratified, but still the Swedes did not think of leaving the country.
Without counting the burden of the enemy camping in his country, the poor King really had a great deal to do. He hunted, loved, and entangled himself in the intrigues of his courtiers in order to forget his own misery.
But from time to time his serenity was clouded by Cosel's outbursts of jealousy.
One day during her confinement, as the King was sitting by her bedside, a servant came with the news that letters of importance had just arrived. Augustus wished to go and read them, but Anna, ill and capricious, prevailed on him to stay with her, and to allow the Secretary, Bose, to come to her chamber and read them. The King yielding to her despotic wish, Herr Bose was introduced.
He began by making His Majesty such a profound bow that his wig touched the floor. He paid the same mark of respect to the sick lady, who, wrapped up in lace, looked like a pale pink rose among snow.
Herr Bose whispered to the King,--
"Urgent, from Warsaw."
They both went to the window. Cosel, who had caught the word Warsaw, looked at the King's face intently, trying to read there the contents of the papers. With great respect, Herr Bose handed the King letter after letter. At first they were all large, and sealed with great seals. Cosel did not budge, but remained with her head resting quietly on both her hands.
Suddenly Bose whispered to the King, and handed him a small letter. The King opened it, read it, smiled, blushed, and then glanced involuntarily at Countess Cosel.
Anna was sitting up in bed.
"What is in that letter?" she asked.
"State business," replied the King.
"May I see it?"
"No!" said the King coolly, continuing his reading.
Anna's face flushed, and, forgetful of the Secretary's presence, she sprang out of bed, and seized the letter. The King grew confused, and looked at the old man, who was likewise greatly embarrassed. This violent scene so surprised him that he knew not what to do.
Cosel devoured the letter with her eyes, and then tore it into fragments. Her presentiments were correct; the letter was from Henriette Duval, for whom the King had betrayed Cosel at Warsaw. She had written to her royal lover, telling him that she had been delivered of a daughter, who afterwards became the famous Countess Orzelska. The mother ended the letter by asking what she was to do with the child.
"Drown her!" screamed Cosel.
The King laughed, Anna wept, Bose bowed and began a retreat towards the door.
"Cosel, for Heaven's sake, be quiet," said the King, coming over to her.
"What?" she screamed. "You dare to betray me; you to whom I consecrated everything!"
It was not the first scene of the kind, but this time it lasted longer than ever before. It was in vain that Augustus kissed her hands, promising everything.
"What is it you wish me to do?" he exclaimed.
"If you write a single word to that impertinent woman, I shall take the post, and go straight to Warsaw. I will kill both mother and child. I swear I will!"
To pacify her, the King promised everything. He would have nothing further to do with her; would forget her existence; would leave the unfortunate woman to the caprice of fortune.