The Countess OrzelskaThe Countess Orzelska
Many changes took place at the Court in Dresden. Cosel was avenged without putting her hand to it. Her foes disappeared one after another.
Amid the ruins King Augustus the Strong was always standing magnificent, throwing away gold, seeking pleasures, but not being able to find them.
The Countess Marie Denhoff, being afraid that she might meet the fate of Cosel, thought it would be wise to marry, and the King did not oppose it. The King enjoyed himself the best in Leipzig fairs, and preferred short amours to those which would fetter him for a long time. The beautiful and statuesque Sophie Dieskau claimed him for a while; but the King found her cold as an icicle, and he married her to Herr von Loss. After that he was in love for a while with Henriette Osterhausen. These temporary love intrigues were followed by the reign of Anna Orzelska, the daughter of Henriette Duval.
The King seemed to become younger at his beautiful daughter's side, who, clad in a uniform embroidered with gold, accompanied him to military reviews, man[oe]uvres, and hunting.
The King was always eager for distractions, and the arrival of Anna Orzelska furnished him with an opportunity for the display of still greater splendour.
Amid different pleasures furnished by the King's fancy, there were moments when Augustus thought that he was a military genius, and wanted military parades.
In 1727 the King was spending the spring in Pillnitz, where the troops were camping. They tried new cannons which were able to break the rock on which Königstein was built.
"I know some rocks," said Count Wackerbarth to the King, "which would resist those cannons."
"Where?" asked Augustus.
Wackerbarth looked at the King, and it seemed as if he were sorry for what he had said.
"Where?" repeated the King.
"At Stolpen; the basalt rocks would resist."
"In Stolpen!" exclaimed Augustus, and he was gloomy.
There was a moment of silence. The King walked to and fro impatiently; it was evident that he was tormented by some fancy which he did not want to satisfy.
"In Stolpen!" repeated he. "One could try the cannon on those rocks."
The general looked timidly at the King, who, as if he were pricked by that look, exclaimed,--
"Why should we not try the balls on the basalt rocks? We cannot destroy the castle, and a few shots--"
Wackerbarth was silent, and waited for orders, still not believing that Augustus wanted to show that he was superior to the childish consideration.
"Send two cannons to Stolpen," said he, "and give orders for them to be trained on the rock. To-morrow I will see the trial personally. Yes, to-morrow morning very early, for it is warm already towards noon."
He turned and went off.
Orders of the King were always executed, notwithstanding all difficulties. The cannons were sent to Stolpen during the night. Zaklika was sleeping in his solitary house, when, about midnight, he was awakened by a great noise and shouting of impertinent soldiers. He thought that Saxony was being invaded by the Prussians, but soon he recognized the Saxons by the exclamation, "Herr Jesus!" repeated continually. Then he went out and asked the officer what had happened--why such haste.
"The King," shouted the officer, "will be here this morning."
"The King! In Stolpen?"
"Yes, yes; he will try cannons against the basalt rocks."
"Where?" cried Zaklika, amazed.
"Here, at the rocks on which the castle stands," said the officer.
The conversation was interrupted. Zaklika could not believe his own ears. The King was going to fire at the castle in which he had imprisoned that unfortunate woman! The King in Stolpen! His hair stood on end to think what suffering it would cause the Countess. He wanted to rush and tell her, to give her courage to bear such a trial bravely.
"It cannot be!" repeated he to himself. "At the last moment the King will be ashamed, and will not come! It could not be!"
The dawn was breaking when Zaklika left his house and rushed to the castle, where everybody was awake. The news that the King was coming electrified the soldiers and officers. In the town and villages soldiers were urging the population to make the emplacements. Crying, shouting, and loud commands were heard all around.
One of the batteries they had already begun to build in the park near Röhrpforte, the other at Hanewald.
When Zaklika arrived at the castle he found the gates already open. They were sweeping and cleaning; the commandant was hoarse with shouting; the officers did not know what to do. Round the St. John's Tower the Countess's servants stood half-dressed, for they thought it was an alarm of fire. They asked each other questions as to what they should do. At the open window was Cosel. She was pale and trembling. Zaklika rushed up the stairs.
She met him at the door with the exclamation,--
"The King is coming to me!"
"Not to you," interrupted Zaklika, "he comes to try his cannon balls on the rocks."
Cosel laughed.
"You are a simpleton!" cried she. "I have dreamed of him for a week. My spirit hovered over him and attracted him. He was searching for a pretext; he wishes to see me. He knows that I love him, that I shall forgive him. He is free; he wishes to marry me as he promised. I wish to be beautiful! I want to remind him of that Anna before whom he used to kneel. The King!" exclaimed she in ecstasy, "my king! my lord!"
"Call the servants," added she. "Tell them to take out my dresses!"
Zaklika rushed out and called the servants, then sat on the stairs, silent, full of grief, half-dead, unable to move.
The day was bright. They counted minutes and seconds. Merciless soldiers slashed at the peasants, urging them to work; the batteries were rising before their eyes. It was a most charming May morning. The scented trees were sprinkled with dew; all nature, like a baby in the cradle, was awake smiling. Amid the quietude of nature, everything in the castle was noisy, moving, seething like a bee hive.
The soldiers dressed in their best uniforms; the officers in new armour. The commandant learned, to his great despair, that the King's provisions were not coming to Pillnitz, and it was necessary to receive the lord. What could they find worthy of His Majesty's palate? They killed a couple of deer in the park, they found a few bottles of wine; but how could the simplicity of the camp table agree with the King's accustomed luxury! In fact they had only one decent glass with the arms of Saxony worthy of lordly lips, but the plates and the other things were very poor. The priest lent a table cloth from the church; the innkeeper furnished a great many things.
The cannons were placed in the batteries. It was already four o'clock--at any moment they might expect the King, who said he would leave Pillnitz at daybreak. The commandant put a soldier on the tower, to let him know when he should perceive dust on the road. The artillerymen aimed the cannons so as to be sure the balls would strike the rock.
Everything was ready when the soldier on the tower gave the signal. At that moment the mayor of the town, with the councillors carrying a rusty key on a tray, went out on the road. In the church, ringers were ready to receive the lord with a peal of bells. The inhabitants of the town were dressed in their best clothes, and crowded the streets and market square.
The clouds of dust approached swiftly, and at last they perceived, galloping at the head on a magnificent steed, a good-looking, majestic man. He was followed by aides-de-camp and a small retinue of courtiers and guests.
At the gate the King hardly nodded; the mayor and his councillors bent to the ground; he went immediately in the direction of the castle. Here the garrison was drawn up at the gate; the drum was beaten and the commandant came out with a report. But the King seemed uneasy and in bad humour. He did not say a word to anybody. He turned his horse to the battery at Röhrpforts, looked for a while, and then hurried to Hannewalde. In front of that battery there rose a black mass of basalt rock. From here the St. John's tower and its windows, in one of which was a white figure, could be clearly distinguished. But the King did not raise his eyes.
At that moment General Wackerbarth arrived from Dresden, and stood behind the King in silence. Augustus was in a hurry: he nodded. The artillerymen put a light to the touch-hole of the cannon, and there was a loud report which was echoed in the surrounding mountains. A sharp ear could catch at the same moment a dreadful cry of despair and grief. The King, however, could neither see nor hear anything, his attention being absorbed by the cannon and the result of the firing.
The first shot directed at the wall built of basalt, made a hole in it, but the iron ball was broken into pieces. The commandant brought some pieces to the King, who deigned to look at them, and shrugged his shoulders. The other shot was directed at the rock itself; the ball was broken into pieces, but the rock withstood the blow.
The King, growing feverish, ordered a third and fourth shot to be fired; the result was the same--the rock could not be broken, except for a few splits where the ball struck.
From the first moment that Cosel heard of the King's coming, she was half-mad. At first she thought that Augustus was coming to see her; she dressed with feverish haste and the greatest care, looked long in the mirror and smiled to herself.
"I am sure," she whispered to herself, "he is coming to see me. It is the end of my captivity, and the beginning of my triumph."
She rushed from one window to another. From one of them she could see the road coming from Pillnitz. She noticed clouds of dust, and her heart throbbed--she cried. Then the pealing of bells and the beating of drums were heard--the King was entering the castle. Then silence. She pressed her heart with her hand, and waited. It seemed to her that she would hear him on the stairs--that she would see him at the door, full of pity and benevolence. The silence lasted too long, then the report of a gunshot resounded, shot and cry. Cosel fell on the floor. Suddenly she rose, mad, bewildered, and rushed to the wardrobe. Her hands trembled; she opened the drawer and took a pistol that was hidden among silk dresses. Then she went to the nearest window, looking round. From this side she could hear the noise of the broken rock and the bursting of the cannon balls on it. Cosel leaned out; her eyes were aflame; her bosom heaved. She waited.
At each shot she beat her head and pressed her heart. Wild laughter was on her lips and tears filled her eyes.
After the fourth shot, everything became quiet. Cosel did not move from her place, and held the pistol in her hand. Soon the sound of the tramp of horses resounded on the road. Cosel leaned out and looked.
It was he! Augustus, riding on a path near the walls!
She screamed. He raised his head, stopped his horse, and touched his hat with his hand; he was pale.
Cosel leaned out still more, as though she would jump through.
"Sire! my lord! Have pity on me!" cried she.
Augustus did not answer; and Cosel laughed bitterly.
"To expect pity from you, vile tyrant! From you who break your promises and then imprison those who ask you to fulfil them! What do you care for human life? What do you care for human heart? Cosel, a prisoner, despises you and curses you: yourself, your family and your country! Die, you villain!"
She aimed and fired at the King. The pistol shot resounded in the castle mingled with laughter. The King, hearing the whizz of the ball, came to his wits; he saluted smiling, and galloped off in the direction of Pillnitz. The commandant's efforts to offer the King a luncheon were wasted.
When Zaklika, alarmed by the pistol shot, entered Cosel's room, he found her lying on the floor senseless. Beside her was a pistol, still smoking. He guessed everything. The servants rushed to help the lady, who seemed to be dead.
Many people heard the shot, but Augustus never said a word about it to any one. Hence they came to the conclusion that they must not speak about it.
It took the Countess quite a long time before she assumed her former order of living. Now she was persuaded that she could not expect anything.
They did not, however, forbid visitors to see her, and later on she was allowed to go into the garden.
Zaklika remained in town, but did not arouse any suspicion as he kept quiet. Cosel used to ask him to do different errands for her, but she never spoke about flight.
Only the next year she was irritated by the news of the gorgeous festivities given in Dresden in honour of Frederick William of Prussia, who visited Augustus with his son Frederick, since called the Great.
Cosel listened to the description of the festivities, and was irritated at the thought that formerly such splendour was displayed for her. It again aroused in her the desire of escape, and of revenge upon the tyrant for her suffering and humiliation.
Several times she was ready to say to Zaklika, "Now is your turn." He expected it, and waited. He was ready to die for her sake, but did not wish to awaken the danger himself.
One day when the Jewish pedlar brought to Cosel, together with some goods, a newspaper describing the last entertainments given for the King of Prussia, and among the others the same carousal that was for the first time organized for her, she became indignant.
Zaklika came in at that moment. She was walking to and fro thoughtfully.
"Are you still ready to risk your life for me?" she asked.
"Yes!" answered Zaklika simply.
"Have you any means of freeing me?"
"I will find some."
"I pity you; you were the most faithful to me," said she; "but I must escape from here, I must."
Zaklika stood thoughtful.
"Do you need much time?"
"I cannot calculate," answered Zaklika. "I must act so as to be sure of success."
Cosel nodded, and Zaklika went out into the park, he needed solitude to think over the matter. For a long time he had several plans, but every one of them had some drawback.
All the former attempts were unsuccessful because the flights were discovered too soon; therefore it was necessary to make a plan which would not be discovered before Cosel should be beyond the Saxon boundaries.
Unhappily Zaklika had nobody who could help him. He could count on the faithfulness of his Slav brothers, Wends and Servs, but they were timid and not artful at all. He came to the conclusion that it would be best to fly during day-time.
At the gate there was no strict control over who came in and who went out; they let in pedlars to the Countess and to the commandant; the men did not attract special attention. Therefore he came to the conclusion that during some rainy day Cosel could pass the gates covered with his mantle. He would follow her, and conduct her beyond the park, where he would have saddled horses, on which they could cross the plains towards the woods and mountains.
Zaklika was thinking for several days, but was unable to find anything better, and he at last decided to tell her about the plan.
She thought it very good.
"The first rainy day," said she. "It is no use to wait; we must try our luck. I have decided to defend myself. I hope you will do the same."
"I hope it will not be necessary," said Zaklika.
For several days there was fine weather. Zaklika was coming in and going out continually. Thinking that he should not return again to Stolpen, he sold his house, and converted everything he could into ready money.
At last the sky was covered with clouds, and it seemed to promise rain for several days. Zaklika, covered with his long mantle, was continually coming in and going out of the castle, not answering the questions made to him by the sentries, as if telling them that he did not like to talk much. The trials were very successful. One Friday it rained hard from the early morning. When dusk began to fall everything was ready. Cosel gave the servant leave to go to the town.
Covered with a long, military mantle, with a cap pushed over her eyes, Cosel went first to the St. Donat's gate, and no one paid any attention to her; at the second gate the soldiers looked at her, but let her pass.
A few minutes later Zaklika, dressed in the same manner, passed the first gate quickly, in which he did not meet anybody. At the second gate the soldier muttered,--
"How many of you are there?"
Zaklika uncovered his face.
"Devil knows you," said the soldier. "I know only that there came in one, and two go out."
"What are you talking about?"
"I am not blind."
Zaklika paid no attention and moved on. The soldier stopped him.
"But they all know me here," said Zaklika.
"Go to the commandant and explain to him, otherwise I shall not let you out."
They began to quarrel. The corporal came. Zaklika complained to him, and they let him out, and he disappeared in the bushes beyond the park; but the soldier grumbled.
"Why are you angry with him?" asked the corporal.
"When I am at the gate, I must count how many people I let in, and how many out. There entered one clad in a long mantle, and two of them went out. The first looked as if he never was a soldier. Suppose it was the Countess?" added he, laughing.
"You talk nonsense!" said the corporal, with uneasiness. He stopped, thought for a while, and went to the St. John's tower. Here he learned that all the servants had been permitted to go to town.
He rushed up the first flight--the room was dark and empty; on the floor above--nobody either. The corporal hastened to the commandant, who rushed out and began to search with the soldiers in the castle. Time was passing by; dusk was already quite thick. There was no doubt that Cosel had escaped! They struck the alarm, and the commandant, dividing his soldiers into several groups, rushed out to chase the fugitive lady.
In the meantime Cosel ran to the horses, which were ready at a certain spot; in her great haste she lost her way. Zaklika reached them, and, not finding the Countess, rushed to seek her, but not daring to call, for the alarm was already given.
He lost much time, but he found her standing under a tree. He seized her by the hand, and conducted her to the horses. Cosel jumped on her horse, and Zaklika was ready too, when the soldiers arrived and surrounded them. Zaklika cried to Cosel to run, he barring the road to the soldiers.
A few shots sounded, and the faithful man, struck by a bullet in the forehead, fell to the ground moaning. At that moment a soldier seized the reins of the Countess's horse. She killed the aggressor on the spot; but there rushed forward another and a third, and she was obliged to surrender.
The commandant arrived when the two cold corpses were already on the bloody ground--the third was dying.
"Countess," said he, "look how many lives your fancies of escape cost!"
She answered nothing, but, jumping from her horse, came to the dead Zaklika. She put her pale lips on his forehead, covered with blood. The dead man's hand was lying on his breast, as though it would defend the King's promise of marriage to Cosel that had been entrusted to him. She took it with her.
She was led back to the castle, where she spent long days sitting and reading the Bible. Zaklika was buried at her expense.
"Nobody would care about my funeral," she said to herself. "Now I am alone in the world. My children do not know me."
* * * * *
In 1733 Augustus died, and the commandant of Stolpen came personally to announce to her the news.
For a long time she stood speechless; then she wrung her hands, and, throwing herself on the floor, began to cry.
Imprisonment, cruelty, wrongs, oblivion, could not take from her womanly heart the love which she had for him. From that moment he was again for her the dear Augustus.
Five days later there came an official from Dresden, sent by the Kurfürst, who was then Augustus III., King of Poland. He asked to be announced to the Countess.
"I am sent to your Excellency," said he, "by our most gracious lord, to announce to you that you are free, and that you may live where you please."
Cosel rubbed her forehead.
"I? Free?" said she. "What do I need freedom for now? The people have become strangers to me, and I am a stranger to them. Where can I go? I have nothing; they have robbed me of everything. You want to make me ridiculous; you wish that those who bowed down to me should now point the finger of scorn at me?"
The official was silent.
"No!" she added. "I do not want freedom; leave me here. I am accustomed to these walls, where I have shed all my tears; I could not live in another place."
So they let her stay in Stolpen, where she outlived Augustus III., and the Seven Years' War.
She died in 1765, being eighty-five years of age. To the end of her life she preserved traces of her great beauty, by which she became so famous.
Footnote 1: Maurice Saxe, the famous French general.
Footnote 2: This was the name familiarly given to the King, and the popular song, "Mein Lieber Augustin," referred to him.