Part 1 (1/2)
The Countess Cosel.
by Joseph J. Kraszewski.
INTRODUCTION
Joseph J. Kraszewski was born in Russian Poland in 1812. He came of a n.o.ble and once wealthy family. His parents quitting their estates during the war between France and Russia, the boy was left in the care of his grandparents on his mother's side. From these he first acquired a taste for literature and art. In his eleventh year, Kraszewski was sent to the College at Biala, where he remained until 1826. He then entered the College at Lublin, and in 1829 he proceeded to the University of Wilno, where he gave his attention princ.i.p.ally to the study of languages, especially of Old Slavonic, Russian, Latin, Greek, Hebrew, and Arabic. He spent much of his time in reading old doc.u.ments and ma.n.u.scripts, and the materials thus gathered he subsequently utilized in his historical romances and monographs.
The novel had at this period begun to be the most popular form of literary expression in Western Europe. Kraszewski read and admired the works of Le Sage, Voltaire, Jean Paul, Hoffmann, and even Was.h.i.+ngton Irving. His first literary efforts were in close imitation of his own countryman, Count Skarbek, and of Laurence Sterne. He began to write in 1829, and at this early period of his life he produced several noteworthy novels.
In 1831 he was arrested by the Russian Government for his connection with the revolutionary movement; but through the influence of his aunt--an intimate friend of Prince Dologoruky, the Governor-General of Wilno--he was subjected only to arrest at home, instead of being deported to Siberia. Complete freedom of movement was not restored to him until 1833. In this year he became the leader of a considerable literary movement in Wilno. He edited there a weekly newspaper, and from his pen flowed poetry, dramas, novels, and historical studies. His literary activity was indeed amazing.
In 1836 Kraszewski left Wilno, and took unto himself a wife. He retired to his estates in the country, where he endeavoured to reconcile the life of a country gentleman with that of a _litterateur_. In 1855 he came to Warsaw, and established in the Polish capital two periodicals, a monthly and a daily. At this time the Marquis Wielopski was, on the Czar's instructions, endeavouring to find a _modus vivendi_ between Russia and Poland, but his policy was fiercely attacked by Kraszewski in his daily newspaper; and when the insurrection against Russian rule broke out in 1861, he was obliged to fly from Poland. He settled in Dresden, where he pa.s.sed the remainder of his life in continuous literary effort, enriching Polish literature with an astonis.h.i.+ng number of works in all branches of _belles-lettres_. In 1879 the Polish nation celebrated at Cracow, in a solemn and imposing fas.h.i.+on, the fiftieth anniversary of Joseph Kraszewski's literary _debut_. After his death he was laid to rest in the Pantheon set aside by the Poles for the sepulture of their literary celebrities. As an instance of the importance of Kraszewski's personality, it is related that Bismarck signalled him out as the man through whom he might best strike a blow at the Polish members of the German Reichstag. He was tried for ”Attempted Treason,” and, on the very slightest evidence, was sentenced to four and a half years' imprisonment in the fortress of Magdebourg.
As a mighty reformer of Polish literature, Kraszewski deserves the highest esteem of his countrymen: as a diligent worker and social reformer he stands an example for any nation. He has left us a gallery of pictures, of historical episodes, and characteristic studies of interesting historical personages. During his long residence in Dresden, he devoted himself specially to a study of men and manners at the Courts of Augustus the Second (”the Strong”) and Augustus the Third. In ”The Countess Cosel” he gives us views of Augustus the Second and his courtiers which are almost unique as pictures of Court life.
The story of the Countess has all the air of a dramatic romance carefully planned by an ingenious novelist; yet it is a faithful narrative of events, illumined by the light of Kraszewski's genius.
S. C. De Soissons.
THE COUNTESS COSEL
CHAPTER I.
All was silent, dark, and sad in the King's castle, in the capital of Saxony. It was an autumn night, but at the end of September, the leaves are only beginning to turn yellow, cold winds are very rarely felt, the days are usually bright, and the nights warm.
But on this evening the wind was blowing from the north; long black clouds followed each other in quick succession, and if a star made its appearance for a moment in the lead-coloured sky, it was quickly covered by the thick clouds. Before the gates of the castle of Georgenthor, and in the court-yards, silent sentries were pacing to and fro. The windows of the King's apartments, usually so brilliantly lighted, were dark. This was a most unusual event during the reign of Augustus, surnamed the Strong, because he was wont to break horse-shoes, men, sadness, and ill-fortune--but nothing could break him. Throughout the whole of Germany, indeed, throughout the whole of Europe, he was famed for the brilliancy of his court. There were none who could surpa.s.s him in magnificence, refinement of taste, and lordly prodigality.
This year, however, Augustus had been defeated. The Swedes had taken from him the electoral crown of Poland, and the almost dethroned King, chased from the kingdom, had returned to the Kurfursten-neste, to weep over the millions he had spent in vain, and the fearful ingrat.i.tude of the Poles. The Saxons could not understand how anyone could fail to admire such a good and n.o.ble lord, or how anyone could be unwilling to die for his sake.
Augustus understood this still less than they did. The word ”ingrat.i.tude” now accompanied every mention he made of Poland, and at length his courtiers avoided talking about it, about the King of Sweden, and about those things that Augustus the Strong had promised himself to set right.
When Augustus returned to Dresden, that city made every possible effort to distract its lord, and it was only on this evening that everything was quiet within the castle. But why? The King had not gone to any of his other castles; the Leipsic fair had not yet begun; and besides, it had even been rumoured in the court, and throughout the city, that Augustus intended to order a series of b.a.l.l.s, and carousals, to spite the Swedish monarch, and to prove to that august personage that he cared nothing for the temporary defeat he had sustained.
The few pa.s.sers-by who wended their way along the streets surrounding the castle, gazed at the windows in astonishment, wondering why, at this early hour, everything should be so quiet in the King's apartments. But anyone who penetrated further, and pa.s.sing through the first large gate, crossed the courtyard, would have discovered that it was only on one side of the castle that silence reigned supreme, and that the interior of the building was seething with life and animation.
Despite the keen north wind that was blowing, the windows on the first floor were wide open, and through the curtains poured forth streams of light, reflected from many mirrors; whilst from time to time there issued from the depths of the hall, peals of boisterous laughter, which, ringing through the s.p.a.cious courtyard, startled the watchful sentries, and echoing against the grey walls, gradually died away in the distance.
This laughter was accompanied by more or less noise, which alternately increased, subsided into murmurs, or died away into silence. At times there was loud clapping of hands as though after a speech, and then again was heard deep, sonorous, full-toned, king-like laughter, the laughter of a person not afraid of being heard, or of being answered in shouts of derision. At each fresh outburst of merriment, the guard pacing, halberd in hand, beneath the castle windows, paused in his walk, raised his eyes, and then with a deep sigh looked down on the ground.
There was something awful in this midnight feast, held while the wind was blowing fiercely, and the capital lay wrapt in sleep.
Here the King was making merry.
Since his return from Poland, such evening debauches, with a few intimate courtiers, had been more frequent. Augustus the Strong, defeated by Charles XII., was ashamed to appear at great feasts; but as he needed some distraction from the sad thoughts that oppressed him, he gathered round him a few courtiers to whom he was attached. For these he ordered his servants to bring out the golden wine that was yearly imported from Hungary for the King's private use, and of this they drank until daybreak, by which time every one had fallen from their seats. Then Hoffman came, and conducted the King, still laughing heartily, to bed.
To these select a.s.semblies of the priests of Bacchus only a few persons were admitted, only those, in fact, in whom Augustus had entire confidence; for it was said that after drinking a few b.u.mpers the King was dangerous. His strength was the strength of Hercules, and his anger the anger of Jove. If he were made angry in the morning, he said nothing, but his face grew crimson, his eyes glittered, and his lips trembled. He would turn away, and would not look at the person who had offended him. But after a few draughts of wine it was a different matter; at such times he had thrown many a one through the window, who had fallen on the pavement to rise no more.