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 Froelich,
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 Froelich, nunquam Traurig_. Froelich was so
accustomed to laugh as a matter of duty that he made others laugh and
laughed himself from morning till night.
Froelich 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 Froelich 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 melancholy _role_ played
by Baron Schmeidel. Schmeidel and Froelich, 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.
Froelich, 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 Froelich, 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 Froelich," 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.
Froelich turned towards the stranger as he entered, and, immediately
assuming his role, saluted him with exaggerated politeness, and,
bending half-double, inquired,--
"What can we do for your Excellency?"
"Mr. Froelich," said the stranger modestly, "do not joke at a poor man;
you may rather be excellency than me."
"What?" said Froelich, "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. Froelich," 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. Froelich!"
"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 Froelich 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 Koenigstein, 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 Koenigstein had not Fuerstenberg 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 Fuerstenberg 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.
Fuerstenberg 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
Fuerstenberg'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, Fuerstenberg, and the Countesses
Reuss and Vitzthum, supped with Lady Cosel.
After supper, Froelich, 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 Froelich, "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.