Cosel's enemies tried every means to excite the King against her. He
did not wish to mention her, but it was no use. The deadly grudges were
taking various disguises, mostly fear for the King's safety. They tried
to represent the unfortunate woman as being very dangerous: she was
free and still very rich; she might become very threatening.
Flemming, Loewendahl, Watzdorf, Lagnasco, without asking the King's
permission, sent spies, and planned how they could seize her riches as
they did those of Beichling.
Some of them acted under the influence of vengeance, others of
cupidity. Cosel had not wronged any of them during her influence, and
many of them were beholden to her for their freedom and elevation.
When Von Sinen returned from Berlin he did not appear immediately at
court, for he was still under the spell of pity for the unfortunate
woman, but Loewendahl spied him out and went to see him.
"How did you find Cosel?" asked he. "Does she still speak about the
promise of marriage? Does she still threaten?"
Von Sinen answered sadly,--
"The fact is that she is very unhappy."
"Unhappy! It's her own fault! But speak precisely--tell me what you
have seen and heard," pressed Loewendahl.
"Frankly speaking, my heart bleeds at the thought of what I have seen
and heard. She is still angry, and never will forgive. But in her
misfortune she arouses respect. She is marvellous and grand."
"Consequently dangerous!" said Loewendahl; "but she must have lost much
of her beauty?"
"She is more beautiful than ever--she is beaming with beauty."
"So much the worse!" said Loewendahl. "The King might see her, and,
being tired of Denhoff's withered face, she would capture him again."
"There is no doubt about that," said Von Sinen.
Little by little Loewendahl learned what he wanted to know in order to
repeat it to the Countess Denhoff. The very same day he went to pay her
a visit, and during the conversation he mentioned that there was news
from Cosel.
"Where is she?" asked the Countess.
"She is in Berlin, and uses her liberty to blacken our King and his
company," said Loewendahl. "But the worst thing is that she threatens to
kill our lord."
Denhoff screamed and rushed from the sofa.
"But that is dreadful! We must warn the King," she said.
"Yes, we must try to deprive her of her freedom."
The Countess did not answer, for it entered her mind that the same fate
might be hers too.
Loewendahl guessed her thoughts, for he added,--
"The King was never severe towards those whom he loved; the best
proof of it is those ladies whom you have met here; but there are some
cases--"
Here the Countess Bielinska, the mother, entered, and having learned
what the question was, she became indignant.
"Truly, the King is too good for that mad woman! She challenges him! We
must put an end to her daring!"
They agreed that Denhoff should warn the King; but, upon reflection,
the mother said that she could do it better.
Loewendahl, having entrusted his vengeance to such hands, went out.
In the evening of the same day, there was an entertainment in the
garden of the Hesperides, as they then called the garden surrounding
Zwinger, now the famous picture gallery. The garden was laid out in
accordance with the taste of those times; the flower-beds were
surrounded by trimmed box trees; there were many fountains, grottoes
and mythological statues. During the evening the lighted Japanese
lanterns made it still prettier than it was during the day. On the
balconies surrounding Zwinger, bands played lively melodies, which were
carried afar on the sweet breezes. In the middle of the garden was an
enormous tent, destined for dancing.
The King came dressed in blue, silver and white lace; he was looking
quite young. The Countess Denhoff also wore a pale blue and white dress
which was very becoming to her. Forcing herself to be merry, she
greeted the King with some jests. Her sister, the Countess Pociej,
helped her to entertain the King, who, as he grew older, was more
difficult to amuse.
Augustus was gloomy and looked tired.
By a preconcerted arrangement, the Countess Pociej suggested that
formerly he amused himself better with Cosel, and that perchance he
regretted her.
The gallant King replied that in the presence of such charming ladies
he did not remember and did not regret anything.
Countess Denhoff seized the opportunity of saying something about
Cosel; but, as usual, she did it awkwardly, and her mother, waiting for
the opportunity, came to her help. Then both began to lament on the
theme of Cosel.
The King did not like that, for he was quite silent. At that moment
both women were frightened, but at last the King said,--
"Dear Countess, pray be easy about me. I am watched by many guardians,
some asked and some not asked; and nothing will happen to me. I do not
like to talk about these matters. Better let us go and look at the
dancing."
Thus the project of an attack was not carried out at that moment: but
it was repeated in the evening by Flemming and Loewendahl, as they drank
with the King. The King let them talk and he listened.
"Loewendahl, listen," said the King sneeringly, "it is a fact that you
give me a great proof of your attachment to my person, warning me of
the Countess, who is your relation, and to whom you should be thankful
for all that I have done for you. I ought to reward you for it; but I
cannot help telling you that it seems very strange to me."
Loewendahl became silent, and the intriguers had learnt that they must
use some other means.
* * * * *
Although Cosel wanted to lead a quiet life in Berlin, her beauty, her
wit, and her fame were too much known for her company not to be sought.
She knew many people in the court of Frederick since his visit to
Dresden. The officers were so much bored by continual military reviews
and quiet evenings in the palace of the Queen, that they were glad to
have some other distraction. The King himself spent most of his time in
Potsdam and Wurterhausen, rather than in the capital, but he never
failed to be present at the change of guard at ten o'clock in the
morning, to give audience to his ministers and to take a walk. About
noon he took a modest meal with the Queen; in the afternoon he worked
hard and did not appear until the evening. In the company of a few
ladies and officers they played picquet, ombre and trictrac--they
smoked, and thus passed the time until eleven o'clock; at that hour
everything was officially ended.
This monotony of life was varied only by receptions given by some
dignitaries. Life here was quite different from what it was in Dresden,
at which they quietly laughed here, especially at Augustus' military
amusements, which nobody took seriously in Berlin. The gorgeously
dressed Saxon soldiers could not be compared with those of Prussia,
clad in their modest blue uniforms. Instead of fanciful flags, here was
used only a white one, with the proud motto, over a flying eagle, _Nec
soli cedit_. In these times the motto seemed too bold; the future
justified it.
There were no two characters more opposite than those of Frederick of
Prussia and Frederick Augustus of Saxony. Since Fraulein von Pannevitz
slapped the Prussian King's face for the kiss he tried to steal from
her, he had not looked at any woman, and was the most faithful husband.
He and the whole of his family led such a thrifty life, that they not
only rose from his table sober, but even hungry.
The order in the country and the army was pedantic; the customs were
Spartan. Before each repast prayer was recited; the cooking was
bourgeois; no one thought about the court balls. They used to eat from
earthenware, and only when there was a dinner in honour of somebody did
they take out the heavy silver, which was locked up again the same
evening.
The King had some fancies, but they were quiet--different from those of
Augustus. When the Queen left the company after a meagre supper, the
men gathered in the smoking-room, where the King treated them to pipes.
During the smoking it was allowed to criticize some one. In the centre
of the room there stood a simple table, round which sat ministers,
generals, sometimes a guest. Every one received a Dutch pipe and a mug
of beer. To make somebody drunk was a great point with the King. To
sneer at savants, the aristocracy, officials, was the greatest
pleasure. The jokes were sometimes interspersed with quarrels in which
mugs were freely thrown about--many were hurt in these encounters, but
nobody was ever killed.
At times a debate would be arranged--on the theme that savants were
ignorant. Morgenstern would address the house; dressed in a long, blue
robe trimmed with red and embroidered with hares; and wearing a red
vest, a big wig and a fox's brush instead of a sword.
Such were the entertainments of the Prussian court. In Dresden they
laughed at Berlin; in Berlin they laughed at Dresden, considering it
the ante-chamber of hell, for Frederick Augustus of Saxony did not
believe in anything, while Frederick of Prussia was pious after his own
fashion.
Once when a new butler was reading a prayer before supper and came to
the words, "May God bless thee," he thought it would be more decent to
change it into, "May God bless your Majesty." The King did not like it
and said, "You rascal, read it as it is written; for in God's face I am
as good, rascal, as you are."
No wonder, then, that after meagre suppers, after entertainments in the
smoking-room, there was a longing for different society, for better
jests, for more elegant conversation. Cosel's acquaintances began to
visit her; the wearied woman opened her door to a few of them, and a
small circle of people gathered quietly in the evenings, for in Berlin
no noise was permitted.
King Frederick, although he was well aware of this fact, for he knew
well what was going on in his capital, said nothing at first. It
encouraged a few officers and courtiers. They used to come towards
seven o'clock, and as Cosel could not sleep, they usually chatted till
midnight and after. They would bring gossip, and the Countess did not
conceal her rancour towards Augustus. Many things said here were passed
to the smoking-room, where they were repeated to the King. Then
Frederick smiled, but he shook his head, and seemed to be surprised
that Cosel was so daring.
One evening, as the usual young guests were gathered in Cosel's house,
there came an old general, who was an habitue of the smoking-room. His
presence made the young men careful in their conversation, but did not
stop Cosel from bitterly criticizing Augustus.
The old general shook his head and listened; he seemed to wonder and
not to believe his own ears. He remained until every one had left the
house. Cosel was surprised.
The old man, who had spoken very little, said respectfully to her as he
took his leave,--
"Countess, permit me to make a remark to you. Time flies pleasantly in
your house; but although the doors and windows are shut, a great many
things get out. Any breeze can carry gossip to the banks of Elbe; our
neighbour may frown on our King, because such things are said here
against our good neighbour and ally. The King would be very sorry--"
Cosel frowned.
"Then even in my own house," said she, "I cannot say what I please?"
"Yes, you can," said the General, "but one can also go where one does
not wish to go."
"Even I?"
"Dear Countess," said the General, sighing, "it might happen even to
you. A military order prevails in our country. I would advise you to
play trictrac; it amuses, and is less dangerous."
Cosel dropped her head sadly.
"You may think," continued the General, "that I am grumbling, as old
people do. Well, then, I will tell you that somebody advised me to warn
you."
Having said this, he quietly left the room, and the Countess threw
herself on the sofa and laughed bitterly.
But she did not listen to the warning, and when her guests gathered
again, her words were many and loud, in utter defiance of the severity
with which she was threatened.
One morning the Governor-general of Berlin came to Cosel's house. He
saluted her civilly, smiled, twisted his moustache, and then asked
her,--
"Is it true that you wish to change your residence and go to live in
the quiet city of Halle?"
"I, in Halle?" exclaimed Cosel. "And what should I do there?"
"The air is very healthy there, the views are lovely, and it is quiet
and secluded. There is no more agreeable place to live in than Halle."
At first Cosel did not know what to answer. Then she said,--
"But I never intended to go to Halle."
"It is rather strange," said the Governor-general, "somebody spoke
about it to his Majesty, and the King ordered that every comfort should
be assured you. The King's orders cannot be disobeyed; the best way,
then, will be to go to Halle."
Cosel wrung her hands, and the tears began to flow down her cheeks.
"Then it is an order," she said, finally, "it is a new exile--why is
it?"
"The King thinks you will be more comfortable there. You know that in
Berlin every word echoes far. There in Halle, no one will hear
anything. There is more freedom."
He had risen.
"You may go there to-morrow, in the morning," he added. "The weather is
lovely; but as the roads are not always safe, His Majesty offers you a
few men to escort you. It is great gallantry on his part; you should be
thankful to him for that."
General Wartesleben bowed very elegantly and went out, leaving the
Countess as one turned to stone.
The blow came from Dresden--there can be no doubt about that. They
wanted to force her to be silent--to accept her fate. Her unbending
spirit rose in indignation; every such blow made her more energetic.
She ordered her trunks to be packed and the horses to be hired, and the
faithful but gloomy Zaklika worked hard without saying a word.
When Cosel was ready to enter the carriage, a small group of curious
men gathered round the house; but seeing that woman clad in black going
majestically to the carriage surrounded by dragoons, they were
frightened and scattered, for they thought that a victim was being
conducted to the scaffold.