CHAPTER IX.
PLAYING WITH FIRE. (1689.)
Yet this joy, waited on by fear and doubt, Plucked casually as by a flower of accident, On the rough lip and edge of danger’s breach, How sweeter is it than the rose to smell We gather from our garden with gloved hands, And find nor thorn, nor perfume! SWINBURNE.
On his return to Hanover Königsmarck set up a sumptuous establishment. He took a house not far from the ducal palace, in a street that was then one of the principal in Hanover, but which is now one of the few bits of the old town remaining. His beautiful sister, the Countess Aurora, came to stay with him, and his married sister and her husband, Count Lewenhaupt, paid him frequent visits. In addition to his lands in Sweden, Königsmarck had inherited a large estate near Hamburg, and frequently travelled there from Hanover. Some idea of his establishment may be gathered from the fact that his secretary, Hildebrand, mentions on one occasion that Königsmarck was attended by a retinue of twenty-nine servants and fifty-two horses and mules. Where money was concerned Königsmarck was absolutely reckless; his love of pleasure and display amounted to a passion, and the result was, notwithstanding his large fortune, he was often in need of ready money, and had to raise it at ruinous interest. At present his fortunes showed no shadow of embarrassment. Hanover was dazzled by the advent of this wealthy foreigner; the splendour of his retinue, the magnificence of his entertainments, and the beauty of his sisters were on every tongue. His fortune was magnified tenfold, and indeed it seemed inexhaustible. At court, at the chase, at the opera, in the ballroom, at the carnival, Königsmarck carried all before him; he was the central and brilliant figure.
[Illustration: _From the painting at Herrenhausen._]
Duke Ernest Augustus marked his appreciation of the wealthy foreigner by appointing him a colonel of his Hanoverian guards. As the troops of the ducal brothers were allied in accordance with the treaty of 1676,[33] he was sometimes with his regiment at Hanover, and sometimes at Celle, though he was more particularly in the service of Hanover. The post gave him free access to the palace, and was considered one of the most honourable about the court, elevating its holder to what was known as the third degree. Though highly ornamental, it was no sinecure; the pay was not large, and in Königsmarck’s case it may have been honorary to avoid jealousy at the promotion of a foreigner. And there was plenty to do. The air of Hanover was full of the noise of military preparations, and the prospect of active service was especially attractive to Königsmarck. It was probably one of his objects in taking the colonelcy of the guards; for though his pleasure-loving soul delighted in the glitter of courts, the camp had its charm for him too. He was a daring and a skilful soldier, an expert in the profession of arms, and many kings would have been glad of his services.
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Footnote 33:
A doubt has been raised as to whether Königsmarck was ever in the army of Brunswick-Lüneburg at all, in consequence of the trouble which was taken subsequently to erase his name from all official documents of Hanover and Celle relating to the troops. But the doubt is settled by the auditor of his regiment, named Rudiger, in his evidence in the Secret Senate Chamber of Hanover on July 27, 1694. Rudiger stated he had served in a regiment of foot-guards commanded by Königsmarck in Flanders. He had also served in a regiment of dragoons in which Königsmarck held the same rank. This document may be found in the Archives of Saxony, Royal Courts of Justice, Dresden. The correspondence of Colt, sometime English envoy at Hanover, also (as we shall shortly show) contains reference to Königsmarck as holding a commission in the Hanoverian troops. This correspondence is in the State Paper Office, London.
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Königsmarck struck up a friendship with the young Princes of Brunswick-Lüneburg, notably with Prince Charles, the favourite son of the Duchess Sophia; and later he was very friendly with Prince Ernest, the youngest of them all, who was many years his junior. Königsmarck was about the same age as the eldest Prince, George Louis, and some six years older than the Princess Sophie Dorothea, who was at this time in her twenty-fourth year. His intimacy with Prince Charles, who was a great friend of Sophie Dorothea, threw him frequently in her society. The memory of their early friendship helped matters considerably. He and the Princess had many things in common; they both possessed a love of things beautiful, and their tastes were artistic and refined. This refinement showed itself in Königsmarck’s dress, equipages, and entertainments. His love of display never degenerated into vulgarity, he could boast of all the superficial accomplishments, his manners and address were graceful, and on things in general he was remarkably well informed. In other ways Sophie Dorothea and Königsmarck were curiously alike. Both possessed highly strung and mercurial temperaments. Both were extravagant—Sophie Dorothea’s expenditure formed the subject of many a lecture from her husband. Both loved amusement, fine clothes, lavish entertainment, balls, plays, dances, and continual excitement. Both were impulsive, emotional, imprudent, and thoughtlessly generous. Sophie Dorothea was much beloved by the poor in Hanover and Celle for her kind heart, which was always ready to respond to the cry of suffering and distress. Her indiscriminate almsgiving was another grievance against her. It can easily be imagined how these two persons contrasted with the cold, sluggish natures around them, and the stiff routine of the German court. If we bear in mind all the forces at work, and the surrounding circumstances, the trend of subsequent events appear almost inevitable.
The Princess was very unhappy, and welcomed Königsmarck as a friend. He was not backward in assuring her of his respect and devotion; his society was pleasant to her, and his evident homage flattered her vanity. But at this time there certainly was not, in the conduct of Sophie Dorothea, anything which would warrant the impression that a deeper feeling than friendship existed. In a court of many intrigues their friendship simply meant that Königsmarck ranged himself with the adherents of the Princess. Her health was not good, and she spent many hours in retirement with her children. Königsmarck and Prince Charles would come to see her, and amuse her by telling her the gossip of the day. The Princess never saw any one alone, but always in the presence of her lady-in-waiting, and the pages were in waiting in the antechamber. There was no impropriety in Königsmarck’s visits, and none was at first imagined; but it was playing with fire, for in time the Princess began to speak to her friend of her husband’s ill-treatment and neglect. His conduct was open and notorious, so there was no concealment in the matter; but though perhaps natural, it was very imprudent for her to take Königsmarck into her confidence—it is a commonplace that a handsome young man is about the worst counsellor an ill-used wife can find. Königsmarck, of course, sympathised deeply, and expressed his indignation in no measured terms (what man would not?), but his championship did more harm than good. He seems to have had at this time some idea of provoking George Louis to fight a duel with him, and so rid Sophie Dorothea of an unsympathetic husband. It is related that on one occasion, when Königsmarck was holding forth before a large company on the superior splendour and attractions of the court of Dresden, Prince George Louis sarcastically asked him why he ever left it. Königsmarck retorted: “Because I could not bear to see a prince destroy the life and happiness of his good and beautiful wife by neglecting her for an impudent and worthless mistress!” The company gasped at the audacity of the answer, for though it was true of the Elector of Saxony it had a double application; but cold and sullen George Louis ignored the affront for the time being, though he never forgot it nor forgave it.
Königsmarck made his appearance at Hanover at a critical time in the fortunes of the duchy. Duke Ernest Augustus might well be excused overlooking domestic squabbles in the face of the wider politics which were confronting him. The peace of Europe was trembling in the balance. The great European coalition was forming against Louis XIV., and the Duke of Hanover was temporising as to whether he would cast in his lot with the French King or with the Allies. On the surface there does not seem to have been any ground for his hesitation; the ties of religion, of blood, of race, of honour, would naturally bind him to the coalition. But these things were nothing to Ernest Augustus in comparison with the promptings of self-interest, and he determined to sell his support to the highest bidder.
The dispute between the French King and the Emperor Leopold had reached an acute phase. On the death of the Elector Palatine, Louis XIV. had successfully invaded the palatinate; but his position was uncertain at the close of 1688, and, urged by the infamous counsel of Louvois, he determined to devastate that fair province. Villages were burned, churches wrecked, and thousands of families turned out of their homes and suffered to perish from cold and hunger. The beautiful castle of the Elector Palatine at Heidelberg and the fair town of Mannheim were reduced to ruins. The wanton spoliation and sacrilege, the cruelties and barbarities committed by the French army aroused the indignation of Europe. It seems incredible that Ernest Augustus, considering how closely he was connected with the palatinate through his marriage,[34] could have hesitated for one moment on which side to throw in his lot. But he hesitated.
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Footnote 34:
The Duchess Sophia was the daughter of one Elector Palatine (the “Winter King” of Bohemia) and the sister of another.
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The crusade against the French King was almost a Holy War. Louis’s only ally in Europe was the Sultan of Turkey, whom he assisted against the House of Austria, and whose Moslem cruelties to Christians were rivalled by this “Most Christian” King in the atrocities which his army committed in the palatinate. All Europe cried for vengeance. The Emperor Leopold, Catholic though he was, made common cause with the Protestant William of Orange, now King of England. The King of Spain followed suit, and the German princes, both Catholic and Protestant, one by one allied themselves against the King of France. The Grand Monarque had no one left on his side but the Sultan, and the exiled King James II. of England, whose reproaches from St. Germains to their Catholic Majesties of Austria and Spain for allying themselves with “that Protestant usurper and enemy of Holy Church, William, Prince of Orange,” were without avail. The King of France had proved himself a standing menace to the liberties of Europe, and in the common effort to check his aggression all minor differences gave way. Though the Emperor Leopold at first took the lead, William of Orange was the heart and soul of the European coalition against Louis. It was largely the result of his skilful negotiations; and many times when it was at the point of breaking up, his statesmanship held it together.
In the face of so powerful a European combination as this it would seem that the action of a petty state like Hanover mattered little. To the Emperor Leopold it mattered a good deal; it was not merely a question of Hanover only, but of Hanover and Celle, for the troops of the ducal brothers were allied, and they had shown their mettle in many a hard-fought campaign. Besides, if Hanover and Celle, so nearly allied to the palatinate, stood aloof, other little states might do the same, and the unity of the German confederation would be broken. To William of Orange it mattered something, too, for the House of Hanover was nearly allied to the Stuarts, and if it made common cause with the protector of the exiled King James, his influence in England would be sensibly weakened.
Ernest Augustus, wily diplomatist that he was, estimated the advances of these powerful potentates at their true value. They wished for his support; he was willing to sell it, but at a high figure. His spouse, the estimable Sophia, also took a hand in the game. Each had a coveted desire. The price Ernest Augustus demanded of the Emperor was the electoral dignity; Sophia asked of William of Orange a clearer recognition of her claim to the succession to the throne of England. The Emperor demurred. There were then eight Electors in the German Empire: two Protestant, Saxony and Brandenburg; three Roman Catholic, Bohemia, Bavaria, and the Palatinate; and three spiritual, the prince-archbishops of Metz, Treves, and Cologne. The Emperor had no constitutional power to add to their number, though he might do so by ä stretch of prerogative. Besides, if such an Elector were elected, or rather created, the elder branch of the House of Brunswick—Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel—had prior claim. But Ernest Augustus remained firm. He even began negotiations with Versailles, and Sophia, no whit behind her spouse in intrigue, opened up a correspondence with St. Germains. These tactics were successful; both the Emperor and William came to terms. The Emperor promised the dignity of Elector to the House of Brunswick-Lüneburg, but under heavy stipulations. The Dukes of Hanover and Celle bound themselves to support the Emperor against the French King and also against the Turks in Morea, and to pay annually five hundred thousand thalers; to furnish a force of nine thousand men, and to uphold the Hapsburg dynasty in its dynastic disputes. The Emperor held back the formal bestowal of the coveted honour till a more convenient season, but he made a binding promise. William of Orange promised to advance the Duchess Sophia’s chances of succession to the English throne when he could, and (what was far more important to Ernest Augustus) to use his influence for the House of Hanover with the Emperor. Thus did Hanover join the confederation against France.
These matters settled, events moved rapidly throughout the winter of 1688 and spring of 1689. Hanover resounded with military preparations, and there was a continual coming and going of ministers and envoys, for the Allies hostile to France were in constant communication with one another. The manifesto of the German confederation was published in February, that of the States General in March, that of Brandenburg in April, and that of Spain in May. England followed suit in the same month, and the great war between the Allied Powers and France was declared, which did not end until the Peace of Ryswick, 1697.
Meanwhile another event, more directly bearing on the fortunes of the House of Hanover, took place in England. The Act of Settlement was passed by Parliament, and though this Act did not specify the Duchess Sophia and her heirs by name, it expressly excluded any Roman Catholic prince from ascending the throne, and vested the crown in the Protestant succession. William and Mary were childless, Anne was in feeble health (the Duke of Gloucester, her short-lived son, was not yet born), and so it seemed in the course of nature that, if the Protestant succession were upheld, the crown must ultimately devolve on Sophia or her children as the Protestant descendants of the Stuarts in the line of succession. William also intimated that, when occasion served, he would do more in the matter.
The Duchess Sophia received the news with the liveliest feelings of joy, and even Ernest Augustus was not insensible to the importance which accrued thereby to the House of Hanover. Prince George Louis remained unmoved; he had not forgotten his unsuccessful mission to England seven years before. Prince Max, always in opposition, avowed himself an ardent Jacobite; the other young princes probably did not trouble about the matter at all. In default of a more sympathetic audience, therefore, the Duchess Sophia turned again to her daughter-in-law, Sophie Dorothea, and expatiated on the brilliant possibilities before her. Poor Sophie Dorothea, who was ill and unhappy, proved even more indifferent than her husband; the prospect of the English crown was much too vague to allure her, and England was little more than a name. The Duchess Sophia had again occasion to remonstrate with her daughter-in-law on her lack of interest in a matter which affected not herself only, but her children.
By way of emphasising the importance of the Act of Settlement, William appointed Sir William Dutton Colt to be Envoy Extraordinary to the Princes of Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel and Brunswick-Lüneburg. Colt was charged with the mission of representing England at the courts of Hanover, Celle, and Brunswick, and of keeping their respective princes well disposed towards the great Alliance. No easy task, it must be admitted; for all the princes pulled different ways, and the perpetual journeys from Hanover to Celle, and Celle to Brunswick, to say nothing of following the Duke of Celle in his ceaseless movements to Brockhausen, Wienhausen, and Göhre, would have worn out any but a strong man. As it was, we soon find Colt complaining of the “perpetual motion” of the court of Celle.
The new envoy arrived at Celle in July, 1689. He was received by the Duke and Duchess “with all y^e respect and ceremony imaginable,” but his first impressions of Celle were indifferent. “The town,” he writes, “is very poor, and all y^e country round nothing but a deep sand and wood of small fyr trees, full of all sorts of wild beasts, which with the Duke’s passion for hunting makes him reside constantly here and at some little houses he has in y^e neighbourhood. I fear to pass a very miserable winter here, in extreme cold and very ill houses.”[35] But Hanover cheered his spirits. “This place,” he writes, “has much more the appearance of a court, and the town much larger and finer, people laying out their money in building and furnishing their houses, besides abundance of strangers resorting constantly hither.”[36] And again: “Nothing can be happier than we are here, all the court and the ministers showing us all imaginable kindness”.[37] His secretary, De la Roque, was even more enthusiastic. “Yesterday,” he writes, “Sir William Colt had an audience with the Duke and Duchess and Princess of Hanover [Sophie Dorothea], who received him with every mark of respect due to him as His Majesty’s envoy. This court is as splendid as any in Germany; genius and civility reign here. The Duchess Sophia is _une personne incomparable d’un esprit, d’une bonté, et d’une civilité à charmer_. She speaks all living languages as well as her own. Her beautiful daughter [in law], the Princess, is both accomplished and agreeable.”[38]
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Footnote 35:
Colt’s _Despatch_, Celle, July 19, 1689.
Footnote 36:
Colt’s _Despatch_, Hanover, July 26, 1689.
Footnote 37:
_Ibid._, Hanover, July 30, 1689.
Footnote 38:
_Letter of De la Roque_, July 26, 1689.
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Soon after this the Duke and Duchess of Celle paid a visit to the court of Hanover. The two brothers had much to talk about in connection with the part they were to play in the great war and the intrigues for the electorate. It is more than probable the Duke of Celle thought at this time that, as he was the elder brother, the Emperor would confer the Electoral dignity on him, and he was so foolish that the cunning Ernest Augustus, with the aid of his unscrupulous tools Bernstorff and Platen, could hoodwink him as much as he pleased. He seemed to be rapidly losing any will of his own, and he became more and more the pawn of his ambitious and scheming brother. Proportionately as the Hanoverian influence waxed, that of the Duchess Eléonore waned, and she had now no voice in affairs of state and comparatively little in matters of a purely domestic nature. The Celle-Wolfenbüttel combination had long ago fallen to pieces, and George William’s dislike of Antony Ulrich was not far short of Ernest Augustus’s hatred of the same prince. Between the courts of Brunswick and Hanover there existed the most intense jealousy. The records of the time reveal a network of intrigue, bribery, treachery, and falsehood between these petty German courts which has seldom been equalled and never surpassed; the restricted area and the pettiness of the disputes added intensity to the bitterness.
The Duchess Eléonore was not a very welcome guest at Hanover; but the Duchess Sophia had by this time sufficiently masked her animosity to receive her with civility, and, indeed, on account of their grandchildren, little George Augustus and Sophie Dorothea, common sense told the older people that it would be well to dissemble their dislikes, and there was nothing to be gained by perpetual strife. It had no such lesson for the Prince and Princess of Hanover, whose dislike for each other seemed to increase as time went on; and though Duchess Eléonore had abundant love and sympathy for her unhappy daughter, we find her henceforth preaching prudence and patience to her, and urging her, for her children’s sake, to make the best of her lot.
There were many festivities at Hanover in honour of the visit of the Duke and Duchess of Celle, and among them the Prince and Princess of Hanover gave a ball to which the court and nobility were invited. Everything was done on a scale of magnificence. Duke Ernest Augustus and the Duchess Sophia with a numerous suite attended in state, and sat on a raised dais with their honoured guests. The Duchess Eléonore must have felt that at last she was a duchess indeed, especially if she contrasted these flattering attentions from her haughty kinsfolk with their former snubbings and insults. The evening began with a play—probably a pastoral with dances; then there was a procession to the banqueting-hall, and after supper Sophie Dorothea opened the ball with her father the Duke of Celle. The Duchess Sophia and the Duchess Eléonore did not dance, but sat apart on the dais. Duke Ernest Augustus was too stout, so George Louis led out the Countess Platen, as _vis-à-vis_, she being the greatest lady present after their Serene Highnesses, and it is recorded that the splendour of her jewels and attire far outshone those of the ducal party. When the first set dance was over, the dancing became more general, and Königsmarck and the Princess stood up for a minuet. Königsmarck wore a suit of pink and silver, while the Princess appeared as Flora, all in white, with no jewels and a wreath of natural flowers. They made so handsome a couple, and withal danced so exquisitely, that they called forth the admiration of the whole company. Indeed, the Countess Platen was so struck by the grace of Königsmarck’s dancing and the beauty of his person that when the dance was over, she went up and complimented him in most extravagant terms before the whole assembly, to which Königsmarck, who was nothing if not gallant, replied in a fitting manner. The incident did not fail to attract the notice of the court, except that of Ernest Augustus, who seemed blind and deaf where his favourite was concerned.
From this hour Königsmarck’s intimacy with the Countess Platen ripened rapidly—an intimacy which may be palliated, but certainly cannot be excused. He became a frequent visitor to Monplaisir, where drinking was deep and play was high. The Countess was always willing to win a little money from her admirers (it was the recognised way of buying her favours), and before long rumour spread the tale that an intrigue existed between the two. It is difficult to say what was the truth of the matter. The Countess Platen must at this time have been about forty years of age, but she was at the height of her opulent charms;[39] she had power, wealth, and the art of making herself pleasant and fascinating to men, and she was not troubled with any scruples. Königsmarck was neither better nor worse than other young nobles of his day, and the probability is that Poellnitz’s narrative is in the main true, and in an unguarded moment Königsmarck threw over his good intentions and discretion.[40]
Thackeray also says of Königsmarck that “a greater scamp does not walk the history of the seventeenth century”; but there is nothing to show that Königsmarck was any greater scamp than his contemporaries; in many things—notably in his bravery, his generosity, and, later, his fidelity to a great love passion—he was better than most of them.]
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Footnote 39:
Thackeray calls her a “hideous old court lady”; on what authority I know not. She certainly was not old at that time, and far from hideous. There is a picture of her at Herrenhausen in a rich crimson robe, a fine voluptuous-looking woman, with black hair and an ample bust, just the sort of woman one would expect her to be. Curiously enough the picture hangs immediately beneath that of Königsmarck.
Footnote 40:
Poellnitz asserts that on receiving the Countess Platen’s compliments on his dancing at the ball, “Königsmarck comprit tout le sens de ces paroles, et la passion qu’il avoit pour la Princesse ne le rendit pas insensible aux avances d’une aussi belle personne que la Comtesse. Il lui répondit qu’il étoit confus des bontez qu’elle vouloit bien avoir pour lui qui le méritoit si peu, et que puisqu’elle lui permettoit de l’aller trouver le soir.... Königsmarck fut chez la Comtesse, qu’il trouva en deshabillé sur un lit de repos. Elle se leva et ayant laissé toute modestie, elle courut l’embrasser, en lui avoüant sa foiblesse et lui faisant voir tant de charmes, que Königsmarck ne se fit point scrupule de répondre à sa tendresse. Le jour étoit prêt à paroître quand il se retira chez lui. Il se jetta sur son lit pour y prendre quelque repos, mais ce fut en vain, et il se reprochoit continuellement d’avoir été sensible aux charmes de l’ennemie déclarée de la Princesse” (_Histoire Secrette de la Duchesse d’Hanover_, pp. 80-81).
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Königsmarck was soon smitten with remorse. He could not ignore the fact that his intimacy with the bitterest enemy of the Princess must look very much like treachery in Sophie Dorothea’s eyes, and he sought an audience to make excuses to her for his conduct, declaring, not very ingenuously, that it was necessary to win the favour of the Countess if he were to be of any real service to the Princess. The Princess answered coldly that it was a matter of indifference to her how he spent his time, or with whom, and he was wise to pay his court to the mistress, as she could prove a much more powerful and influential friend than she (the Princess) could ever be. Indeed, she went on bitterly, she had no friends; she was betrayed and deserted on every side. Only recently she had craved leave to return with her father and mother to Celle for a time, but, through the interference of Countess Platen, Ernest Augustus had refused permission, and she must needs remain in Hanover surrounded by enemies. She burst into tears, and Königsmarck, smitten by self-reproach, became scarcely less agitated, and vowed with great fervour his respectful homage and lifelong fidelity to her interests. Just at this point Prince Charles came in to pay his respects to Sophie Dorothea, and, finding both his sister-in-law and Königsmarck violently agitated with an emotion they were unable to conceal, his suspicions were aroused. He was a well-wisher of both, and, though he said nothing to the Princess, when the visit was over he took Königsmarck aside, and warned him that the path he was treading was a dangerous one, and it behoved him to walk more warily.
Königsmarck thought so too. His passion for the Princess was growing daily, and threatened to outstep all bounds of discretion. He was not wholly selfish; he loved her with all the love he was capable of feeling, and he began to see that his presence, so far from serving her cause, was likely only to increase her difficulties. His brief-lived intrigue with Countess Platen filled him with disgust and remorse; he was at his wits’ end to repel her advances with civility, and there were the elements of danger in it too, for should Ernest Augustus suspect anything, his career at Hanover would be closed for all time. The only way out of the dilemma was a temporary absence.
The opportunity soon came. In accordance with his treaty with the Emperor Leopold, Ernest Augustus, who this summer had sent troops to Flanders, and his eldest son, George Louis, to the Rhine, was also sending, in the autumn of 1689, some regiments of his famous Hanoverians to the Morea, to fight with the Imperial forces against the Turks, and Prince Charles, Königsmarck’s bosom friend, was to accompany them. What more natural than that Königsmarck should volunteer to go too, especially when the Duchess Sophia made an appeal to his friendship and entreated him not to suffer her best-loved son to face the perils and dangers of this far-away campaign alone? He at once craved permission to serve with the Hanoverian troops in the campaign, and it was granted. Dearly as he loved military adventure, he did not go without sadness and misgiving. It was hard for him to tear himself away from the object of his passion; and, as the day of departure drew near, his depression was noticeable to the whole court, and the more inexplicable because he had come to Hanover with the reputation of being a brave and keen soldier. The Countess Platen remonstrated with him on his decision; she had no wish to lose so amiable a gallant. He told her coldly but civilly that his determination was unalterable, and doubtless in his absence she would forget him. With the Princess his leave-taking was more difficult. Unaware of the depth of the feelings he entertained for her, and seeing in him nothing but a sincere and devoted friend, Sophie Dorothea did not hesitate to express her regret that he was leaving her at a time of great stress and difficulty, when she had most need of his counsel and advice. She besought him to take care of himself and return quickly, for she saw before her a time of sore tribulation when she would need to the utmost all her friends. Königsmarck was so moved by these gracious words that he had great difficulty in restraining his emotion; as it was, he contented himself with vowing again his devotion and fidelity to her interests, and bade her adieu.
The rigours of an early winter had set in, the snow was lying on the plains around Hanover, when Königsmarck and Prince Charles set forth for the Morea.