CHAPTER IX.
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.