The Swedish King had not yet left Saxony when Augustus began giving splendid festivals, for which he had plenty of time, although not much money. Naturally, Cosel was first at all entertainments, and she ruled King and country despotically.
When weary of balls, tournaments, and carouses, Augustus was fond of taking excursions through the country.
In Nizyca, in the old Slav lands of Luzyce, there is a very old settlement, situated at the foot of a mountain, called Stolp. This mountain was pushed from out the bowels of the earth by some strange phenomenon of Nature, and its enormous rocks of black basalt stand boldly forth, looking as though they had been hewn by the hands of spirits. On these rocks, which were so hard that iron could not break them, there was built, many centuries ago, a castle, whose business it was to dominate and defend the borough that lay at its feet. From this mountain a wonderful view is obtained; afar to the south, one sees the Saxon and Bohemian mountains covered with forests; to the west, there stand forth the copper mountains of Saxony; nearer are visible those gigantic heights, in form like the pyramids, on which are seated Ditterzbach, Sonnenstein, and Ohorn; to the East one sees the forests and mountains of Hochwald--whilst in the far distance Bohemian villages and towns are visible.
In days of yore, the old castle of Stolpen was the property of the Bishops of Meissen, and stood forth to view, magnificent though gloomy, with its pointed towers, which not even thunderbolts could destroy. This castle was surrounded by enormous walls, near it was a large park, and in the adjoining forest game was to be found in abundance.
One beautiful day in July, before the heat had set in, horses stood ready before the castle of Dresden. One of Augustus' courtiers had told him of the strange mountain, composed of iron-like rocks, on which the castle of Stolpen stood, and the King, recollecting it, longed to see it.
The dew was still wet on the grass and trees, when the King came forth to mount his charger. At the same moment Zaklika appeared with a message from Cosel, inquiring where His Majesty was going.
"Tell your mistress," said the King, "that I am going to Stolpen, and that if she choose, she may overtake me; but I am not going to wait until the heat of the day has set in; this will be the case long before she has finished dressing."
Cosel had just left her bed, she was angry that the King had not notified her of this excursion; and when Zaklika returned with the answer, she felt hurt that the King was not willing to wait for her. Still she gave order that the horses should be saddled, and some young nobles invited to accompany her. Everything was to be ready in half an hour, for Cosel was determined to show the King that she did not require to take a long time dressing, in order to appear beautiful. She wished to overtake him before he could reach Stolpen. In half an hour the gentlemen invited were ready, and Cosel's white Arab steed, its saddle covered with crimson velvet ornamented with gold, was neighing impatiently. Then the beautiful lady came forth to the astonishment of her admirers. She wore a wonderfully becoming dress. Her hat was blue with white and azure feathers; her bodice was blue embroidered with gold, and a full white skirt, likewise trimmed with gold, completed her costume. She sprang on her horse, impatient to start as soon as possible. Then she welcomed her guests with a gracious smile.
"Gentlemen," said she, raising her small hand, in which she held a riding whip whose handle was set with precious stones, "the King has challenged me to race with him. He started half an hour ago, but we must overtake him, even though our horses should die in the attempt, or we should break our own necks. He who cares for me, will follow me!"
Having said this, the bold amazon turned her horse towards the gate, and galloped madly down the street. Zaklika and an equerry followed her closely, to be in readiness in case of accident. The others followed after. With the white Arab keeping well ahead, they passed through the old city, and turned to the left towards Stolpen. Fortunately for the party, the high road was broad and sandy, the morning refreshing, and the horses strong and fresh. In silence, the Countess's brilliant cavalcade flew along the road, as though carried by the wind.
They passed mountains and groves, meadows and fields. Through the orchards they could see the villages of the Wends, with their houses surrounded by wooden piazzas, and covered with high roofs. From time to time they met a peasant coming along the road, who doffed his cap respectfully at sight of the marvellous apparition, but before he could open his mouth to reply to the question whether he had seen the King, the riders who had asked it had disappeared in clouds of dust.
The horses were covered with foam, and, after an hour of mad riding, the equerry besought the Countess to stop and rest. At first she would not listen to him, but in the end she slackened her pace, and the horses stopped in front of an old house. The poor animals were panting and snorting. In the doorway stood an old, yellow-faced, miserable-looking woman, leaning on a stick. She glanced at the riders with indifference, and then turned her face from them.
Only once Countess Cosel's eyes and hers met, and the beautiful lady shivered.
They asked the old woman about the King, but she only shook her head.
"We don't have any kings, our kings are dead!"
She spoke slowly and with indifference, and her accent was that of a foreigner.
At that moment, a middle-aged man came out of the house; he had long hair, and wore a blue jacket with silver buttons, knee breeches, and stockings. Taking off his hat, he welcomed the guests in pure Saxon German.
He told them that it was three-quarters of an hour since the King had passed the house, but that he was riding so fast that it would be impossible to overtake him.
Cosel then inquired if there were not a shorter way, but finding there was none, she dismounted, and expressed her intention of resting for a few moments. Thereupon the German offered the company some beer.
"Who is that woman?" inquired Cosel, pointing towards the beggar.
The German shrugged his shoulders contemptuously:
"She is a Slav, a Wendish woman! I cannot get rid of her. She claims that this property used to belong to her father. She lives not far from here in a hut built at the foot of the mountain. I don't know what she lives on; she wanders across the fields muttering, and who knows but it may be some devilish incantations, for she must be a witch. Sometimes of nights when the storm howls she sings, and then we shiver. I cannot chase her away, for she knows how to conjure up devils, who serve her."
Then with a sigh, he added,--
"She foretells the future, and she is never mistaken."
Cosel turned and looked at the old woman; then she went over to her. She was the only one of the party bold enough; her companions, hearing witchcraft mentioned, had withdrawn to a distance.
"What is her name?" she asked the German.
The man hesitated, then whispered so low that even she could scarcely hear what he said,--
"Mlawa."
The old woman made a movement as though she heard her name; she raised her emaciated head proudly, shook her long, hanging, grey locks, and looked around, as though searching for the bold person who had dared to mention her name.
Unheeding the woman's strange manner, Cosel, to the surprise of her companions, went up to the old beggar. For a moment the two women looked into each other's eyes.
Cosel was the first to speak.
"Who are you?" she asked. "Tell me why you are so poor."
Mlawa shook her head.
"I am not poor," she replied proudly, "for I have memories of happy years. I am here still on the land that belonged to my family. I am the Queen."
"You are a Queen?" laughed Cosel.
"Yes, I am a Queen! for the blood of the kings of this land flows in my veins. All things are possible in this world. You, though to-day you are almost a Queen, by to-morrow may be as miserable as I."
"Of what kings are you speaking?" inquired Cosel thoughtfully.
The old woman raised her hand and pointed to the surrounding country.
"All that was ours--all, until you came and took it, and slew us as though we had been wild beasts. We were good; we came with bread, and salt, and song; while you came with iron, fire, and slaughter. And the German race multiplied, and pushed us out of our land. It's my land, and I must die here. From this place my soul will find its way back to my people."
"Are you able to tell fortunes?" asked Cosel, urged thereto by feverish curiosity.
"That depends," said Mlawa indifferently.
"Would you do it for me?"
The old woman looked on her pityingly.
"Why do you wish your fortune told?" asked she. "Whoever rose as high as you have done can only fall; better not ask!"
Cosel paled, but anxious to show that she was courageous, she smiled, though her lips trembled.
"I am not afraid of anything," she said, "I can look at happiness, as I can look at the sun; and I shall be able to look into the darkness also."
"But suppose the darkness lasts too long?"
"It cannot last for ever," rejoined Cosel.
"Who can tell?" whispered Mlawa. "Let me see your hand!" she added, stretching forth her own.
The Countess retreated a few paces, feeling rather afraid, for in those days every one believed in witchcraft.
"Don't be afraid, my beauty," said Mlawa calmly. "I shall not soil your white fingers, I shall only look at them."
Cosel drew off her glove, and exhibited to the old woman, a beautiful white hand, glittering with rings.
"What a beautiful hand! Worthy to be kissed by kings; but, my child, there are dreadful signs in it. That hand often touched the face that looked on her boldly. Am I right?"
Cosel blushed; Mlawa was thoughtful.
"What are you going to tell me?" whispered Cosel uneasily.
"You are going on towards your destiny. Who has ever avoided his fate? Who has ever seen its precipices? After long happiness, there awaits you a still longer, oh, far longer season of penitence, a rigorous captivity, sleepless nights, unaccustomed tears. Having children, you will be childless; with a husband, you will be a widow, you will be an imprisoned Queen; you will be free, but you will throw away your freedom--you will be--oh! don't ask me--"
Cosel was as white as marble, but still she tried to smile.
"What have I done to you," she asked, "that you wish to terrify me?"
"I pity you!" said Mlawa. "Why did you wish to look into my soul? Wormwood grows there! Bitterness flows through my words. I pity you!"
The old woman's head drooped.
"You are not the only one! Thousands have suffered in this world, and have died, and their ashes are scattered by the winds. Like you, thousands are moaning in slavery--my forefathers, grandfather, father, kings. I am the last of their race. The German has driven me from my home."
Cosel drew a gold coin from her purse, and handed it to the old woman.
"I don't take alms," said she; "you will pay differently; everything is reckoned above."
And raising her hands, she walked into the meadows.
During this conversation, Cosel's companions had been standing at a little distance, admiring her courage. Now none dared ask why she looked so pale and thoughtful. She mounted her horse, but she dropped the rein and allowed the animal to guide her.
They continued to ride forward, but slowly. Then from afar high towers appeared in sight.
"That is Stolpen," said the equerry.
An hour's more riding and they reached the castle. The King's cavalcade was standing opposite the rock of basalt, waiting for the Countess, whom they had seen while she was still at a distance.
Augustus advanced to meet her with a smile of welcome.
"I have been waiting for you an hour," said he.
"Yes, for I lost half an hour over some fortune-teller," replied the Countess.
The King looked surprised.
"Well, what fortune did she prophesy for you?" he inquired.
Anna looked at him, and her beautiful eyes filled with tears. Augustus grew confused and alarmed. Then he strove to chase away her sadness, and was gallant and witty.
"What a magnificent castle these Bishops of Meissen built!" he said.
"It is dreadful! Fearful!" said Cosel shivering. "I am surprised that the King should come for pleasure to a place where memories of torture and cruelties reign supreme."
"Why, my lady," interrupted Augustus, "your beautiful eyes can make bright the gloomiest spot. I am happy everywhere with you."
He offered her his arm and she leant on it. Thus they went round the dreadful castle. The Countess was silent, the King serene. Perhaps he was thinking that when his prisons at Königstein and Sonnenstein were full, he would be able to shut up a few prisoners here. He wished to see the interior of the castle, but Cosel remained outside, looking at the black towers and walls. The King went on further and examined the prisons, called "Monchlock," where the monks were kept, then the "Richter-gehorsam," and a pitch dark "Burguersiess," into which the prisoners descended by means of a ladder. Although empty, everything was in good order. Augustus looked at everything with eager curiosity, and as though he were searching for traces of the old tortures. At length, having looked at the walls of the fortress, he left the castle.
Outside he found Cosel just where he had left her; she appeared gloomily thoughtful.
"What a dreadful place!" she repeated. "It seems as if I could--can hear the moans of those who have been tortured here."
"We cannot be tender towards every one," said Augustus, indifferently. "But how is it you have such gloomy thoughts? Let us leave the castle and go into the park. I have ordered them to have lunch ready. Soon they will drive up some game, and we shall be able to admire your skill in shooting them."
In the park, under a magnificent Turkish tent, they found lunch all ready prepared for them. The sun was scorching, the heat was overpowering, so that none of the company were very animated. Even the witty Kyan sat silent in front of his full glass. Augustus did not like silence, so he ordered the servants to serve quickly, and then fetch the rifles.
Luncheon ended, all went into the park. Cosel followed the King, but she felt very sad, for Mlawa's words, foretelling the dreadful fate that awaited her, still rang in her ears, though at present no signs of such a fate were visible. Augustus, on the contrary, was merry.
Towards evening, having killed a few deer and boars, Augustus mounted his horse. Cosel rode beside him. As they passed the house where she met Mlawa, Cosel searched for her with her eyes, but she was not there. A little further on they saw her standing leaning on her stick, as though she were waiting to see the King. She glanced at Cosel and smiled, as though recognizing an old acquaintance. Augustus turned from the sight of her in disgust.
Prince Fürstenburg and Count Flemming had made a compact to get rid of Countess Cosel. She ordered them, as if she had been a Queen, she treated them proudly, and she squandered money like a child who is ignorant of its value. The influence she had acquired over the King alarmed every one. None of the King's favourites had had such power, such faith in herself, and none of them had been able to keep the fickle Augustus so long at her side. The whole court longed for her downfall; the number of her enemies increased daily. But the Countess heeded them not, and when the faithful Zaklika told her things that he had overheard, she only laughed contemptuously. Slowly yet surely the forces of her enemies were gathering together against her, but as yet they did not venture to declare open war. They were waiting for certain symptoms that would lead them to believe that the King was tired of her, and would indicate that the fight would be crowned with victory.
On the one side were adroit and clever courtiers, drilled from childhood in the art of intriguing, and aided in their enterprise by corrupt and cunning women; on the other side was Countess Cosel, proud, intelligent, trusting in her beauty, in her imaginary title of wife, in the knot that had been made fast by having her children acknowledged, and a few friends without influence, and a few double-faced people, who were eager to be on the victorious side, and only waiting to see which side had the greatest power. The prospect was that the war would be long, but Cosel's adversaries were patient, and, knowing the disposition of the King, felt confident of an ultimate victory.
They knew that sooner or later Cosel must weary the King by her fancies and by her insatiable desire for luxury as well as by her pride and impetuosity. Until the present these had amused the King, but at any moment the scale might turn.
Every one of importance at Court was against Cosel, profiting by the King's absence in Flanders, whither he had gone to fight against France, in the hope that by some deed of daring he might brighten his fame, so clouded by the Swedish defeat. Fürstenberg and Flemming wished to shake the King's love by writing to him about the Countess's extravagant luxuries. So black did they succeed in painting her, that the King gave orders that she should not be furnished with too much money. Fürstenberg seized on this order to refuse Cosel money several times when she required it, for which insult the Countess threatened to give him a slap in the face should she come across him.
But when the King arrived in Dresden, he had not a single look for Fürstenberg, instead, he went straight to the Palace of the Four Seasons, where again he found Cosel just leaving her room after another confinement. She was more beautiful than ever, and, although weeping, received him most affectionately.
"Ah! my lord!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms round his neck, "you know that I am always eager to see you as soon as possible, yet, perhaps, never have I longed so much for your return as at the present time. Deliver me from persecution! Am I still the mistress of your heart or not, that these men humiliate me so cruelly?"
"Who?" inquired the King.
"Your best friends; that drunkard, Flemming, and that perverse hypocrite, Fürstenberg, have made me a laughing-stock. My lord! deliver me from them."
After long separation, Cosel had regained her power over the King, who had begun to cool towards her.
"I will scold Fürstenberg and Flemming severely," said he.
By the time he left the palace, he was once more under the influence of her charms, and when Fürstenberg and Flemming came to him with an accusation against her, he told them both to go the next day and beg the Countess's pardon.
"You are both wrong. I dislike quarrels, and you must make it up with the Countess."
"Your Majesty, it would be too humiliating for me," said Flemming.
"It must be done, otherwise you would be obliged to leave the Court."
The next day the King sent for them to come to the Palace of the Four Seasons. Cosel was crimson with anger, and proud as a Queen.
"I suppose," said the King, "that a mutual misunderstanding was the cause of the quarrel. The Countess will forget the past, and you, gentlemen, ever indulgent to the fair sex, you will overlook it if she has ever said any bitter words about you."
All the while the King was speaking, Cosel's look was full of anger, Fürstenberg's of hatred, and Flemming's of irony. Yet when he had finished, they bowed politely, and their indistinct mutterings might have been taken as begging pardon.
Neither side was deluded with the idea that the reconciliation was sincere.
Soon after this her cunning enemies again tried to make the King quarrel with the beautiful Cosel, who seemed to be one of those wonderful creatures who are always young. Passing through Brussels on his way from Flanders, the King met a beautiful dancing girl, called Duparc, and invited her to come to Dresden. Cosel's enemies knew how jealous she was, and they employed the Baroness Glasenapp to carry out an intrigue. When inviting Duparc to Dresden, Augustus did not tell her that he was the King; he was travelling then under the name of Count Torgau. On her arrival in Dresden, she failed to find a Count of that name. However, she had an aunt in Dresden, who was in the theatre, and this aunt took her to Chamberlain Murdachs, who was at that time director of the royal entertainments. He knew all about Duparc, and to her great surprise received her very well, expressing a wish that she would appear in the ballet, called "The Princess Elida," that had just been prepared to celebrate the King's return. All this was the work of Count Torgau, and both the women guessed that he must be the King, and their suppositions were rendered more certain by the anonymous presents received by the dancer.
During the ballet the King sat in the box with Cosel; when Duparc noticed him she fainted from emotion. The King ordered his doctor to go and attend to her, and this seriously displeased his jealous favourite.
"It seems to me," said she, "that your Majesty is too good in taking such interest in an unknown dancer, who probably does not deserve such a favour."
Augustus was offended, and replied drily,--
"It is true that I should often be accused of showing too much favour to persons who only abuse it! I hope that Duparc will be less exacting."
Cosel, unable to control either her voice or her movements, withdrew to the further end of the box, exclaiming,--
"Your Majesty has a peculiar taste for the street women."
Fearing a further outburst of passion from her, the King left the box.
Cosel was thus exposed to the ironical glances of the whole Court; she remained for a short time longer, then making believe that she was unwell, ordered her litter, and returned home.
The Countess's enemies thought that by exciting her jealousy, they would succeed in making her quarrel with the King; and with this end in view they sent the Baroness Glasenapp to call on her. She found Cosel in tears and at once began to prattle.
"You cannot think how I pity you. I know everything, and I am indignant at it. You do not perhaps know that the King has taken supper with Duparc?"
Cosel listened quietly to her gossip, then she said,--
"Do not think that I am jealous; I only grieve for the King, who wrongs himself more than he does me."
Having said this, she rose, wiped away her tears, and, suspecting some intrigue, tried to appear indifferent.
Glasenapp did not succeed in making her angry. Cosel could control herself at times.
The King did not come to see her the next day, he was afraid of her impetuosity. Instead he sent Vitzthum to reconnoitre. Cosel and he had always been good friends. Apparently, he came of his own accord, to inquire after her health, and did not in anyway allude to the events of the preceding evening.
"As you see, I am quite well," said Cosel with a sad smile.
"You are always beautiful!"
"And you are always good-hearted and polite."
They talked awhile on indifferent subjects, and then Vitzthum returned to the King and told him Cosel was very reasonable.
The whole clique of her enemies now waited impatiently for thedénouement. Towards evening Augustus himself repaired to the Palace of the Four Seasons.
The news spread, and faces grew sad in consequence.
The King had become accustomed to Anna, and did not wish to abandon her; although his passionate love for her had passed, the habit still remained. He was ashamed of Duparc and proud of Cosel. Cosel on her side was determined to be as reasonable as the Queen herself.
"I do not like public quarrels," said the King, "they do not become either of us."
"Your Majesty, it is my love for the King."
"It must be reasonable," interrupted Augustus.
"It is characteristic of love that it cannot be reasonable."
"But you must try not to be jealous."
"Why, your Majesty, should you give me any reason for jealousy?"
The King shrugged his shoulders, and replied,--
"Childishness."
Cosel refrained from another outburst; she knew that she was not threatened by anything.
The relations between her and the King were not at all changed, only they had become less cordial; a ceremonious gallantry was now substituted for his former passionate love.
The best proof that the Countess had not lost her lover's heart was furnished by the visit of the Danish King, Frederick IV. Augustus, who was always glad of an opportunity for festivities and entertainments, by which he might astonish Europe, received his nephew with great splendour, and in all the festivities Cosel played the leading part, for by her beauty and majestic mien, she was superior to all the women at Court. It seemed as though the King should be excused for admiring such an exceptional being.
After the balls, tournaments, shooting parties, there came the day when the Danish King must take his departure and set out on a journey to Berlin, whither Augustus was to accompany him. After a splendid supper, Cosel returned to her palace. Her face still glowed with triumph and enthusiasm, but at the same time she felt exhausted. She threw herself down on the sofa to rest.
In the palace perfect silence reigned, and this quiet, following on the noise of the entertainment, acted on her most strangely. She was seized with a most unjustifiable fear.
During the hour of her triumph, she had several times encountered Flemming's ironical glances, in which there was an expression of menace, which she alone could understand. Those looks stung her to the heart and made her sad.
In vain she tried to brighten her gloomy thoughts, by recalling all the marks of favour shown her by the King; she could not succeed, and even in the hour of her triumphs, she was haunted by the presentiment of a miserable future.
She did not expect to see the King that day, for the next morning he set out for Berlin.
Suddenly the sound of footsteps was heard coming along the corridor that connected the staircase with the gallery leading to the castle. It could be no one but Augustus, and Cosel sprang to her feet and hastened to the mirror, to assure herself that her hair and dress were in proper order.
Her first glance told Cosel that Augustus was in a state in which she had but seldom seen him.
The leave-taking of his nephew, whom the courtiers had respectfully carried to his bed, had been celebrated with bumper toasts. The King, although accustomed to these feasts, had not come out victorious. It was true that he was able to walk with the assistance of his chamberlain, but that minister only accompanied him to the door, and as soon as he was in Cosel's room he threw himself immediately on the sofa. His face was crimson, his eyes misty, and his speech indistinct.
"Anna," said he, "I wished to bid you goodbye. Well, to-day you were triumphant, as women very seldom can be. At least you will thank me for it."
Cosel turned towards him--she was sad.
"Alas! my lord," she replied, "I have not sufficient words to express my gratitude. But had you seen the jealous glances cast at me, you would understand why I have returned sad."
Augustus smiled.
"The tragi-comedy of life," he returned indifferently. "I had my Charles XII.--you have your Flemming! Every one has some pain, and life--is life. Be merry for my sake."
"I cannot," she said.
"For me!" repeated Augustus.
Cosel looked at him, then she smiled, though rather with an effort than from the heart.
"Could I always look on you, my lord," said she, sitting down beside him, "then I should be always most happy. But unfortunately you are going away, and who can tell how you will return?"
"Probably not so drunk as I am to-night," rejoined Augustus, with a cold smile. "I like wine, but I hate its dominating over me."
"And when will my lord return?" inquired Cosel.
"Ask the astrologers that question, I do not know. We are going to Berlin. But there is one thing I am glad of, Brandenburg will look rather meagre when compared with our festivities. Frederick will show us his soldiers instead of giving us a good dinner. Berlin after Dresden, ha! ha! ha! I am going on purpose to see my triumph."
"But will your Majesty return faithful to me?" asked Cosel, with whom this was now a constant thought.
"From Berlin?" laughed Augustus. "It is one of the most tedious courts in Europe. There is no danger there either for me or for you."
"And Dessau?" whispered Cosel.
"That is true!" said the King, making a movement with his head. "She was pretty, but she did not understand gallantry. She was offended with half a word. No, I do not like such women."
Then kissing her hand, he said,--
"My dear Anna, I should like to ask you a favour. I should be glad if you and Flemming would not devour each other."
Anna frowned.
"Your Majesty must kindly say that to Flemming, not to me. He is lacking in civility to me, to Cosel, to Augustus' wife."
At these words a strange smile passed over the King's face and his eyes shone fiercely.
"But I dislike wars," said he.
"Then command him to respect and obey me, your children's mother; that will be the best way of keeping peace."
The King made no reply to this, but began to take his leave. Cosel hung tenderly on his neck, then she conducted him to the door, behind which the chamberlain was waiting. The King was gloomy when he left Cosel.
Who could tell the thoughts that then filled his mind? The same evening he summoned Flemming. He was sarcastic and irritable.
"Old man," said he, jokingly, "Cosel complains of you. You must endure it; you must not pay attention to many things, the others you must forgive. You know I bear a great deal from her."
"Countess Cosel pays your Majesty with her love," said Flemming familiarly, "that is quite different."
"Well, get on well with Cosel," added Augustus.
"It will be difficult; I cannot be her courtier; I can neither lie nor flatter, and it is no easy matter for me to bow, for my back is old."
To this the King replied, laughing,--
"It is true, she does not like you either. She says that you look just like a monkey."
Flemming's eyes gleamed, he muttered something between his teeth, and then relapsed into silence.
Had the King desired to make them implacable enemies, he could not have employed better means.
Whilst Augustus was enjoying himself with the indifference of a man who believes in destiny, Charles XII. was also hastening to his fate. In a strange country, with a handful of men, he hurled himself against an unknown power; and, with the bravery of a lion and the recklessness of a young man, he accepted battle on the plains of Poltowa.
This battle was decisive for many countries, and for a still greater number of persons.
Augustus was returning from Berlin well satisfied that he had not been surpassed by that Court, which did not care for splendour or luxury. On his way he was overtaken by a courtier, sent from Warsaw by Princess Teschen, who, on being deserted by Augustus, had returned to her own country, although she still preserved some sentiments of affection towards her royal lover.
The Princess was the first to notify him of the fact that Charles had been defeated. It was a great surprise to the King, who now, for the first time, realized the mistake he had made in resigning the Polish Crown. But, at the same time, he wished to keep his word in the face of Europe. While he still hesitated, Flemming arrived.
"Your Majesty," said he, "treaties obtained by force are not binding. We must return at once to Poland. Leszczynski is not a King. Your Majesty will find thousands of loyal hands ready to defend your rights. We have only to go, and the victory is ours."
The crown, relinquished after such heavy sacrifices, was very tempting to the Kurfürst. He had planned to create a great and hereditary monarchy there. Even were he obliged to give up one of his own provinces to his envious neighbours, Poland united to Saxony would be a very powerful state. He must, therefore, hasten to win back the crown, and change it from an elective to an hereditary one.
Augustus accepted Flemming's advice, and decided to return to Poland. Flemming had many connections in Poland, in consequence of one of his cousins having married the Castelane Przebendowska, and all his friends had promised to help him--there could be no doubt of a happy termination. From Poland there also came Denhoff, and the Bishop Szaniawski, both of whom invited Augustus to return. While the King of Denmark was at Dresden, Augustus had concluded an alliance with him, and to it was now added Frederick of Brandenburg.
Augustus had now no time for love affairs. Immediately on receiving the news of the battle of Pultowa, he returned to Berlin, to come to an understanding with its sovereign. He had barely time to see Cosel, whose quarrel with Flemming had considerably increased. Flemming felt himself strengthened by events. The Countess had sent to him several times, with different demands, but he always refused to carry them out, declaring that now he had more important business to deal with. He tore Cosel's letters in pieces and trampled on them, telling the messenger that he did not care for her complaints or her threats. Cosel could not put up with such provocation.
On the fourth day Flemming, who was riding, met her near the gates of the palace. Cosel leaned out of the carriage window, and, shaking her fist at him, exclaimed,--
"You must remember who you are, and who I am! You are the King's servant, and have to obey orders. I am mistress here. You wish for war with me, you shall have it."
Flemming laughed, and with apparent courtesy, touched his hat.
"I do not make war on women," said he, "and I do what I consider good for my master. I will neither bow to, nor gratify women's caprices."
Then, setting spurs to his horse, he galloped away.
War had now begun in good earnest between them. Cosel wept with anger, and awaited Augustus's return.
Augustus returned early the next day, and he had already been informed of everything that had occurred, for when Flemming met him on the road, he said to him,--
"I wonder that you, an old soldier and a diplomat, cannot live in peace with one woman."
"Your Majesty," returned the General, "I live in peace with many, but I cannot with those who think themselves goddesses and queens. That woman ruins the country, and does not respect any one."
"But I love this woman, and I require her to be obeyed."
"No one slighted her, until she began to insult every one."
The King was silent, and Flemming added, confidentially,--
"She will ruin Saxony, and Poland too, and then she will not be satisfied. Your Majesty may be satisfied with her caprices, but with us who surround the throne, our duty is to free your Majesty from such fetters."
Augustus hastened to speak of other matters. On reaching the castle he went at once to Cosel, who was awaiting him with anger and reproaches, things that Augustus disliked exceedingly.
"My King! my lord!" she cried. "Help me! Flemming treats me as if I were the least among women. He insults me publicly; he tears my letters in pieces and tramples on them. He has threatened to drive me from this palace. Your Majesty must choose between him and me."
Augustus embraced her, smiling.
"Calm yourself, my dear Countess, you are excited. I need Flemming just now, therefore I must be kind to him."
"And I?" asked Cosel.
"You know very well that I cannot live without you. But if you love me, you will do something for my sake. You will be reconciled to Flemming."
"Never!" exclaimed Cosel.
"He will ask your pardon."
"I do not care about it. I wish never to see the man again."
Augustus took hold of her hand, and said coldly,--
"My dear Cosel, to-day you wish to be rid of Flemming, to-morrow you will ask to be freed from Fürstenberg, after that it will be the same with Plug and Vitzthum. You cannot live in peace with any one."
"Because no one is friends with me," replied Anna.
She began to cry; thereupon the King rang the bell, and, despite Cosel's opposition, ordered Flemming to be summoned.
After a long time, which Augustus employed in pacing furiously up and down the room, the General arrived. He did not salute Cosel on entering, but turned straight towards the King.
"My dear Flemming," said Augustus, "if you love me, you will ask pardon of the Countess. Shake hands both of you!"
"Never!" exclaimed Cosel. "I will not shake hands with that vile courtier, who has dared to slight a woman."
"Do not be afraid," said Flemming, "I shall not bother you by shaking hands with you. I do not know how to lie, and I shall offer no excuses."
The King had risen. He was angry.
"General, you will do it for me," he said.
"Neither will I do it for your Majesty. I should prefer to leave your service."
"You villain!" screamed Cosel. "His Majesty's favours have made you arrogant; but it is not far from Dresden to Königstein, thank God!"
"Cosel, for Heaven's sake!" interrupted Augustus.
"Your Majesty will permit me to be frank; for I likewise do not know how to lie. I must tell him what I think of him. He declared war against me, let him have it."
"I do not propose to make war against you, Countess," said Flemming. "I have something better to do."
"Leave my house!" screamed the Countess, stamping her foot on the floor.
"This house is not yours; there is not one thing that belongs to you; this is a palace belonging to my King and my lord, and I shall not leave it without his orders," replied Flemming.
Cosel began to weep and tear her dress. Then, addressing Flemming, the King said, gently and calmly,--
"General, I beg you to make peace. I love you both; I require both of you. Why must I suffer because of you?"
"Your Majesty does not need to listen to our quarrels; it were better to leave them to be decided by fate."
Having exhausted all her arguments, Cosel threw herself on the sofa. The King, seeing no means of reconciling them, either by calming Flemming or by softening the irritated Countess, extended his hand to the General and conducted him to the door. Then Augustus began to pace up and down; he was thoughtful, and it was evident that he was occupied with matters of greater importance.
Cosel loaded him reproaches.
"Alas! sire," said she, "then it has come to this, that your servants insult me. It is my fate. Flemming laughs at the one you say you love."
"Dear Countess," he replied calmly, "all that you say proves that you do not know how I am situated. At this moment I need Flemming more than I do my right hand: to make him angry is to renounce the crown of Poland. You cannot ask that of me, and if you did, as a King I should not do it. You know that I do not refuse you anything, but there is a limit to all things. I was a King before I was Cosel's lover."
Frowning, fearful, mad, Cosel rushed towards Augustus.
"Lover!" she screamed. "I have your written promise. I am not your mistress; I am your wife!"
Augustus made a grimace.
"All the more reason you should pay attention to the interests of my crown," he replied.
Again Cosel relapsed into tears. Augustus looked at the clock.
"I am not master of my own time," said he, "I have too much to do. I must leave for Poland shortly. Dear Countess, be calm, Flemming is impetuous, but he loves me, and will do what I ask him."
Cosel made no reply. She shook hands with Augustus silently, and he departed.
Soon after this scene they began to prepare for the journey to Poland. As she wasenceinte, the Countess was unable to accompany the King on this expedition.
Cosel well knew the danger that threatened her. At Warsaw the King would meet Princess Teschen, and although in the whole of Augustus's life there had never occurred a reconciliation between him and a former favourite, Anna felt uneasy. Still she was more afraid of the other women whom her enemies put in the King's way, in the hope of inducing him to abandon her for a new favourite.
To save the Countess the unpleasantness of quarrels with Flemming, the King had determined to take him with him, and although Anna would rather have suffered his persecutions at Dresden, than have had him close to Augustus intriguing against her, she was powerless to prevent it.
The King was very kind towards her up to the last moment, and he assured her that he had strictly forbidden Fürstenberg to annoy her.
Having learned that Flemming was going with the King, and that the Countess would remain at home, Cosel's enemies grew hopeful that things would change, and that the combined influence of Flemming and Przebendowska would ultimately prevail, and a new favourite be substituted for Cosel.
Her downfall seemed to them certain.
The day of his departure, Augustus was as tender as possible. He spent the whole day with Cosel, whose state of pregnancy having made her weak, tried to arouse the King's pity by recalling old memories.
But this was the worst possible way she could have acted. Augustus was charmed by vivacity, gaiety, boldness, jealousy, daring--everything that acted on the senses; but sentiment was unknown to him; he played at it from time to time, but he never felt it.
To attempt to arouse in him tender feelings was the surest way to bore him. Cosel was greatly alarmed; she kissed the King; she wept; she entreated him not to leave her, not to forget her. Augustus replied in his choicest words, but his studied declarations were chilling.
Several years had passed; the enthusiasm of both of them had cooled. But in the woman there remained attachment, tenderness, gratitude; in the King a feeling of weariness predominated. Instead of pitying her sadness, he wished to escape from it as quickly as possible; her tears made him impatient, her grief bored him.
Cosel could no longer appear gay and cheerful as formerly, in the happy days when she used to ride out with the King to hunt the deer, or took her part in shooting at a target.
Her charms had not changed, but daily intercourse with her had made them appear common in the King's eyes. Grief had not dimmed her beauty; her eye had not lost its brilliancy; but neither her charming looks, nor her smiles, could now bring the King to her feet. Her power over Augustus was ended, the beloved woman had become common, because she no longer possessed for him the charm of novelty.
Never before, when the King departed, had the Countess felt as lonely as she did now. The palace, until then crowded, was suddenly deserted. Cosel had no one to be with her.
During the day, the gossiping Baroness Glasenapp would rush in, or the stern Baron Haxthausen, her only friend, would dine with her. This was all the company she had.
In the whole crowd, her most faithful friend was Raymond Zaklika, whose hand often trembled with the desire to attack some arrogant man who had offended the Countess. The slightest sign from her would have been sufficient for him, and the one whom he touched would have been a dead man.
Looking towards him at critical moments, Cosel had sometimes noticed him in such a state of excitement that she had been obliged to calm him.
Being a servant, Zaklika had no opportunity of expressing his feeling, but the Countess understood him perfectly, and knew that she could depend on his loyalty. Had she bidden him kill Flemming, he would have done so instantly, and would then have gone without a groan to the scaffold. In his eyes, she was always the same beautiful star that he had seen shining in bygone days among the linden trees at Laubegast. To him she even appeared more beautiful, and his whole happiness lay in the privilege of seeing her several times a day.
But whilst at Dresden all was sad and quiet, the King, in the best of spirits, and full of hope, was hastening to Warsaw. Flemming was with him, the Countess Przebendowska preceded him. It was an open secret that they wished to find a new lady for the King at Warsaw. They did not wish her to be as beautiful as Cosel, for beauty such as hers threatened a long attachment; neither must she be witty, for the King was content with giddiness, and she must not possess a heart, for it was only at the commencement that Augustus played a sentimental part.
Youth, great daring, coquetry, a good name, and good breeding were sufficient, and would counterbalance Cosel.
With these instructions, Countess Przebendowska started for Warsaw, where she was to choose. Flemming's cousin was a great friend of Countess Bielinska, whose two married daughters, the Countesses Denhoff and Pociej, both pretty, quiet and merry, could be placed on the list of candidates.
The first day after her arrival, Przebendowska paid a visit to her friend, who gave her a cordial welcome. She knew Przebendowska's influence over Flemming, and his power over the King.
"My dear," said Przebendowska, "I come to you with many troubles, and I hope you will help me."
"I will share them with you willingly," rejoined Bielinska.
"We are having great trouble with the King," continued Przebendowska. "He is in love with a woman who for several years has made him do whatever she pleases."
"I know Cosel!" interrupted Bielinska. "But why did not the King hold to Teschen?"
"He is never faithful to any one for long. We must get rid of Cosel, and find him some one else. The King is wearied."
Bielinska became thoughtful.
"It is easy enough to find some one else, but we must be careful not to put new fetters on him."
Countess Przebendowska stayed to dinner with her friend, whose two daughters were also dining with her. Both of these ladies were young, elegant in movement, and pretty. Countess Pociej was small and neat; she appeared frail, but her eyes lit up with fire, laughter was for ever bursting from her lips. Countess Denhoff was not tall either; she was gracious, and played the part of a melancholy person, although naturally she was flighty, and burned with a desire for gaiety. Her eyes sparkled with wit and malice, which she veiled under an exaggerated modesty.
Countess Przebendowska talked on indifferent subjects, but she never let the two pretty young ladies out of her sight for a moment. The dinner ended, the two old ladies were left alone.
Przebendowska knew well that Bielinska's affairs were in a bad state, and she at once began to condole with her about them. Presently her friend said,--
"You have seen my daughters. Marie is quiet, fresh, and pretty; she is also good-hearted, submissive, and easily guided. How do you like her?"
"She is charming."
"She is like quicksilver, and, although she seems delicate, she is really very strong and lively."
Then, lowering her voice, the mother continued,--
"We have been good friends since childhood; if some one must be so happy as to attach the King, why should we not introduce Marie to him?"
"I did not know if you would wish it."
"Why not? Denhoff is a bad husband, and he is not young, either; she is very unhappy with him. If he objects to have the King as a rival, Marie will obtain a divorce from him."
"But would she be willing?"
"I will persuade her," said the anxious mother. "It would really be a great blessing for us. Our affairs are in a shocking condition. Should my husband die, we should all be ruined."
Countess Przebendowska neither promised nor refused.
"We shall see, we shall see," she said; then added, "We must not say a word to Marie until we are sure she pleases the King. Cosel was jealous and arbitrary; after her, he will require some one who is gentle, merry, and submissive."
"He would not find any one who answered that description better than Marie does--that I warrant you."
After a long time spent in conversation, the friends separated, a good understanding having been established between them.
A few days later the King and Flemming arrived. Countess Przebendowska lived in the same house with her uncle, and they were able to talk freely even on the first evening. She at once mentioned Countess Denhoff to him.
The General made a grimace; he had heard a great deal about that lady and her giddiness; but after a pause he said,--
"The King is weary, and any woman can captivate him, so it may be better for him to have her."
The next day the General said that before deciding anything he must make the acquaintance of Countess Denhoff. Both the ladies were accordingly invited to spend an evening at Countess Przebendowska's palace. Flemming did not much like the candidate, but after searching about for several days they were obliged to decide on Countess Denhoff, she being less dangerous than any of the others. Having learned a lesson by his experience with Cosel, Flemming was afraid of an ambitious woman, or one who desired to rule. Countess Denhoff was giddy and coquettish, but she was not jealous, and never dreamt of influencing any one; she was simply fond of life.
The next day, Countess Przebendowska had an opportunity of approaching the King. She was merry and jocular.
"Your Majesty," said she, "it seems as though it should be Poland's turn now."
"Dear Countess, what do you mean?"
"After Lubomirska there was Cosel, and after her it seems necessary to choose some one from Warsaw."
"But I desire to remain faithful to Countess Anna."
"In Dresden," replied Countess Przebendowska; "but in Warsaw, and during her absence--"
The King smiled.
"Has your Majesty looked at the beauties in our theatres?" she continued.
"No, I have not!"
"Then I will take the liberty of attracting your Majesty's attention to one of them. There is not another here prettier or sweeter than she is. She is young, and has a beautiful hand."
"Who is she?" asked the King.
"Countess Denhoff,néeBielinska," whispered the lady.
"I do not remember her," said Augustus; "but being an admirer of female beauty, I promise you I shall take advantage of the first opportunity that offers to make the acquaintance of so charming a lady as you describe this one to be."