CHAPTER IV
The unhappy Augustus went swiftly on the path of disaster; when Aurora von Königsmarck failed and returned making the best she could of a poor tale, the King-Elector appealed to the Diet still sitting at Varsovia, by means of one of his partisans, the Palatine of Marienbourg.
He asked that the army of Poland might be placed at his disposition, promising to pay the men two quarters in advance, and requested permission to bring to the defense of the country 12,000 Saxons.
Cardinal Radziekowski, Archbishop of Gnesne, Prime Minister of the Realm, and President of the Diet, the most powerful enemy of Augustus, and the most active partisan of the Sobieski, the family of the last King of Poland, was eager enough to seize this opportunity of insulting a king elected against his wish and who was an object of his keen personal dislike; the answer he returned to the Palatine of Marienbourg was dry and hard.
“His Majesty was advised not to bring any Saxons into Poland as the Diet was on the point of sending an embassy to the King of Sweden.”
In this extremity Augustus resolved to throw himself once more on the mercy of Karl; he privately sent a chamberlain to the Swedish camp to inquire how and where the conqueror would receive an envoy from himself and from Poland.
This secret ambassador suffered an even severer reception than that which had been accorded to the Countess von Königsmarck; as the formality of the passport had been overlooked Karl put the chamberlain in prison without seeing him, declaring that while he might listen to the Republic he would not hear anything from King Augustus.
The only consolation that this unfortunate prince had in his disasters was that of seeing that the Republic was treated almost as harshly as himself.
Karl received the five senators sent by the Diet in his tent near Grodno, with a pomp that was unusual to him--surrounded by his dragoons and generals, seated on a throne, and clad in a rich uniform with damascened cuirass; but the two spokesmen, Tarlo and Galesky, could, after all, only obtain from him the sentence with which he had sent away Aurora von Königsmarck that he would “discuss peace in Varsovia.”
Flooding the country with manifestos, in which he declared that his cause was identical with that of Poland, and that his arms were directed solely against the Saxon, Karl marched on the capital.
His propaganda was insidiously aided by the Cardinal Primate, and by those numerous senators who were either secretly of his interest or actively opposed to Augustus, who remained abandoned by all save the few nobles who were of his party and the envoys of Peter, the Pope, and the Emperor. His orders to the Polish nobility to take arms with their followers and come to his assistance were ignored while the Poles hesitated, watching with more satisfaction than dismay, the daily advance of the conqueror.
Even those senators loyal to Augustus would not consent to his calling in his Saxons, but he had secretly commanded the 12,000 he had asked for to advance to his aid, and had recalled another 8000 that he had promised to the Emperor to use against France.
He knew that to do this was to violate the Polish law that did not allow him more than 10,000 foreign troops, and that he was risking a revolt throughout the country, but his necessity was desperate, and he believed that he had now little to lose in Poland.
While he was waiting for the arrival of these troops he left Varsovia and went from one Palatinate of Poland to the other, endeavoring to secure the nobility on his behalf, and to raise some sort of an army with which to face the conqueror. Meanwhile, Karl arrived before Varsovia, which, not fortified and without a garrison, opened her gates at once.
The victor contented himself with disarming the citizens and exacting the moderate tribute of 100,000 francs.
Among the first to present himself before the Swedish King was Cardinal Radziekowski, who had left Varsovia to withdraw to his residence at Lowitz.
Karl received him, without pomp or ceremony, in his headquarters, which he had established at Praga, near the capital.
The Cardinal Primate looked at this youthful hero with a curiosity equal to that with which Aurora von Königsmarck had first gazed at him, and with the same desperate desire and eager hope to turn him to his own ends.
These ends were directly in opposition to those of the fair Countess; he labored to overthrow the crown she wished at all costs to preserve. Karl was standing with his brother-in-law, Count Piper, and several generals, distinguished from the others by his height and the plainness of his attire; he wore his heavy blue cloth coat with gilt leather buttons, black satin cravat, white breeches, high boots, and leather gloves that came to the elbows; he had his hair short, in contrast to the flowing perukes of the other gentlemen, and his still beardless face was browned above his fair proper complexion. He advanced to meet the Cardinal with an air of friendliness, but there was but little change in his cold countenance and the steady gleam of his blue eyes.
The Cardinal felt chilled, and faltered a little in the high-flown compliments that he had prepared to salute the conqueror.
“You have come to speak of peace?” asked Karl, cutting short his speech.
“Your Majesty,” replied the Cardinal, with some difficulty, rallying his wits in face of this personality so unusual and so unexpected, “Your Majesty promised peace in Varsovia.”
“I promised to discuss peace in Varsovia,” replied the young conqueror, “and I shall keep my word.”
The Cardinal bowed his head; it was difficult to know what to say before such imperious abruptness.
“Your Eminence represents Poland?” added Karl.
“All save that portion that remains with King Augustus,” replied the cautious priest.
“You are of the Sobieski party?” demanded the King.
“Sire, I have striven to be of no party, but the servant of Poland.”
Karl smiled; he was tolerably well acquainted with the intrigues and factions of the Republic, and, though he disdained politics, on this occasion he had allowed Count Piper to meddle in the affairs of Poland, greatly to his own advantage. He glanced at the Duke of Holstein-Gottorp.
“We have not come to impose terms on Poland, have we?” he said briefly, then turned again to the Cardinal without waiting for the young Duke’s assent. “My quarrel is not with Poland.”
“We are, indeed,” replied the Cardinal, with some dignity, “unconscious of any offense towards your Majesty.”
“But your King,” said Karl, “waged on me a most unjust and aggressive war. He must make reparation.”
“Sire,” answered the Cardinal, with secret exultation, “he is in no condition to refuse your Majesty’s terms.”
“We have not yet come to the discussion of my terms,” responded the King, with an increase of his freezing hauteur. “If your Eminence is the mouthpiece of your country--I have only this to say--that I will give Poland peace when she has elected another King.”
No words could have been more grateful to Cardinal Radziekowski, who was the adherent of the Sobieski, and the man who had, in default of James Sobieski, rendered too unpopular by the memory of his father’s faults to be a possible candidate for the Polish throne, caused the Prince of Conti to be elected, and would have crowned him but for the power of Saxon arms and Saxon money.
“You may tell, sir, your palatines and nobles this news,” added Karl curtly. “If they require peace they know the means by which they can attain it.”
He moved away in a manner which seemed to terminate the interview that had not lasted more than a few moments; but the Cardinal Primate hardly noticed the abruptness of his dismissal in his satisfaction at the news he could now carry all over Poland, with a fair certainty of dethroning Augustus.
“This priest,” remarked Karl to his brother-in-law, “will save us much trouble. The Poles will themselves cast off the Saxon.”
He looked as he spoke at one of the officers who had remained in the window-place during his interview with the Cardinal.
This was a young man of a frank and pleasing countenance and attired very richly, Stanislaus Leczinski, Palatine of Posen, and one of the first Poles to join Sweden; his behavior was stained by some ingratitude towards Augustus, to whom he owed his fortune, but whose election he had opposed on the ground that no foreigner should rule over Poland.
Karl had already shown a marked interest in this young man, who was in most things more youthful than himself though eight years his senior.
It pleased his peculiar pride to give his friendship to one who could in no wise requite it; and just because Stanislaus had little influence in Poland and could be of no assistance worth considering to Karl, that monarch favored him above the Sobieski and Sapieha whose power might have been of immense service to him; Stanislaus had held the office of treasurer under Augustus, but had little weight in politics beyond that given by eloquence and hardihood.
It was to this young noble who had so early reported himself at the camp of the victor to whom Karl now addressed himself.
“Do you not think,” he asked keenly, “that Augustus will soon be dethroned?”
“I think, sire, that he will, when he is desperate, fight,” replied Stanislaus. “When the Cardinal Primate make public your Majesty’s ultimatum, the Elector will make an effort to redeem his fortunes.”
“I hope so,” said Karl dryly; “he needs a further lesson. Is he not now at Cracovia?”
It was Count Piper who answered.
“The last advices are, sire, that he has gathered the nobility of that province about him, and awaits the arrival of the Saxon troops.”
“We will advance on Cracovia,” said Karl calmly, “and when we have taken that city, we will decide the question of the crown of Poland.”
With these words, spoken too dryly to savour of pomp or bombast, Karl smiled at the young Palatine of Posen, and left the room with a brief salute to the others.
“He will make himself King of Poland,” said Stanislaus Leczinski, as the door closed.
“He will not,” answered Count Piper, with a touch of sarcasm in his voice. “That would be too ordinary an exploit to please His Majesty’s temper.”
“What can he do more astonishing or more magnificent than to take a crown from his enemy’s brow to place on his own!” exclaimed the young Palatine, turning his frank, pleasant face towards the Swede. “And I for the first,” he added, with genuine admiration in his voice, “would be ready to acclaim him in the greatness that he has so nobly won.”
“You do not know the King,” said Count Piper dryly. “His pride is to be the arbiter of other men’s destinies--he would not consider himself made greater by another crown; his is a lofty pride, and a strict if hard code of honor; he would disdain to turn a defensive and punitive war into one of conquest. You will see that, as in the treaty with Denmark, he will ask nothing for himself--unless it be one thing.”
“And that?” asked Stanislaus.
“John Rheingold Patkul.”
“The Czar’s envoy!”
“To Karl a rebel--and undoubtedly the Livonian was the arch-conspirator in this plot to despoil Sweden.”
Stanislaus did not reply; his secret sympathies were with Patkul, whom he believed to be sincerely working for his own oppressed country, but his interest and his admiration lay with Karl; the strange figure of the young conqueror fascinated his chivalrous and ardent nature, and he had been flattered by the notice of so remarkable a man.
His wish to see Karl King of Poland was sincere; this was the type of king he desired for a country to which he was attached with a strong affection; he had never liked the indolent good-natured Saxon.
“Naturally,” added Count Piper, with a glance at the Swedish officers, “I shall do my utmost to persuade His Majesty to accept the crown of Poland if it is offered to him; it would be a safe, sound step that would bring Sweden some return for the expense of this war--but the King,” he added with meaning, “is not likely to take my advice.”
The Palatine did not think any the worse of Karl for this; he was headstrong and independent himself, and could appreciate that a man in the position of intoxicating glory occupied by the King of Sweden would refuse to be led by the advice of a mere politician.
“Perhaps,” he said, with his native pleasantness, “we may be able to move His Majesty to our wishes.”
Smiling, he picked up his gaily-feathered hat, and went out to find the King who he knew at this hour would be taking one of his lonely rides round Praga.
The action of Augustus was exactly that predicted by Stanislaus Leczinski.
When the Cardinal Primate informed the Diet that it was necessary to bow to the will of the conqueror and dethrone the Elector of Saxony, that Prince resolved on a desperate battle for his kingdom, and advanced to meet Karl who was marching from Varsovia, the new capital, to Cracovia, the ancient capital which had been chosen as the Saxon headquarters.
Karl had 12,000 men, picked Swedish troops; Augustus, his own soldiers having arrived, had 30,000, of whom 20,000 were those that had lately arrived from his own electorate, and the rest the Poles who had remained faithful to him during his reverses.
In numbers he was therefore greatly superior to the King of Sweden, and the Saxons were as well equipped, armed, and trained as the Swedes, but such was the respect inspired by the invincible Karl that Augustus went to meet his fate with a heavy heart.
“Why does the Czar do nothing?” asked Aurora passionately, when her lover took leave of her.
“What of his hordes of Muscovites?” she added.
Augustus smiled sadly.
“Those troops he has sent I should be better without,” he replied. “Peter trains his men--I know not when he will be ready. Think not of aid from him, dear heart.”
The proud-hearted woman clasped her fair arms round his bravery of satin and steel, and raised her sad countenance to the kind handsome face that looked at her so tenderly.
But no words of love or softness left her beautiful lips.
“If you do not defeat the King of Sweden, I think that I shall never forgive you,” she said fiercely.
Augustus, harassed, perplexed, and overwhelmed, took leave of her with less than his usual affection.
Hélène D’Einsiedel gave him a gentler “God-speed,” while she thanked God in her heart that Patkul was in Russia; far away, but safe from the approaching horror of battle, thought the poor girl, as she watched the army leave Cracovia.
In a few days came the news that Augustus had met Karl at Klissow, and that despite a desperate resistance and heroic bravery, had suffered a complete reverse, his stores, flags, artillery, falling into the hands of the Swedes who drove him before them in headlong flight.
Karl entered Cracovia as he had entered Varsovia, overwhelmed all by the sheer terror of his arms, established a Swedish garrison, taxed the town 100,000 rix-dollars, and proceeded to follow Augustus who fled towards Marienbourg.
Livid with anger and despair Aurora von Königsmarck had rushed from room to room of the palace, snatching her jewels, her gold and silver ornaments, her tapestries and clothes, calling together her maids, pages, dogs, and monkeys, and in hasty retreat with coaches and baggage-mules, fled to Lublin, accompanied by Mdle. D’Einsiedel, whose entire being was occupied in prayers for the safety of General Patkul.
When the weary women reached their new place of refuge they were relieved by the news that Augustus had a respite.
Karl, hotly pursuing his enemy, had fallen from his horse and broken his leg, which necessitated his return to Cracovia and would keep him confined several weeks to his bed.
“Now--if you have a man’s courage and a prince’s spirit--is your opportunity,” wrote Aurora, in a fiery letter to the vanquished Prince, who was striving to gather together once more his resources at Marienbourg.