Chapter 13 of 30 · 6639 words · ~33 min read

CHAPTER XII.

THE DAWN OF PASSION. (1691.)

What can we fear, we two? O God, Thou seest us Thy creatures bound Together by that law which holds the stars In palpitating cosmic passion bright; By which the very sun enthralls the earth, And all the waves of the world faint to the moon. Even by such attraction we two rush Together through the everlasting years. STEPHEN PHILLIPS, _Paolo and Francesca_.

The first mention of Königsmarck in Colt’s despatches tallies with the first letter in the following correspondence, and sets at rest the question as to whether Königsmarck actually held a commission in the Hanoverian service. Some doubt had arisen concerning the safety of Hamburg; and Colt, writing to Lord Nottingham, says, “There is not the least appearance of any danger for the city of Hamburg. The troops of Hanover march towards the Elbe and two regiments of Foot under Königsmarck and Cordons.”[64]

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Footnote 64:

Colt’s _Despatch_, Celle, June 28/July 7, 1691.

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It was while Königsmarck was absent on this expedition that his correspondence with the Princess began. The first letter, written while he was on the march, runs as follows:—

“AHT, _July 1_.[65]

“I am _in extremis_, and the only thing that can save me is a few lines from your incomparable hand. If I had the good fortune to behold them I should forthwith be healed. I hope you will not be so cruel as to refuse me this favour, for, since it is you who cause my sufferings, it is only just that you should send me comfort. Were I not writing to one for whom my respect is as great as my love, I would find better terms to express my devotion; but, fearing to offend, I end here, only beseeching you not to forget me wholly, and to believe me always your slave.”

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Footnote 65:

Possibly Alt = Altkloster.

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The Princess did not respond at once; she had not promised to answer Königsmarck’s letters, though she consented to receive them. She must have known how dangerous it was for her to embark on a correspondence of this kind; she hesitated, and, hesitating, yielded. After a little time she seems to have sent him a few lines, and that the trend of her epistle was not rebuke may be gathered from his reply:—

“[ON THE MARCH, undated.][66]

“I received your answer to-day. How anxious I have been all this time! I vow the fear that you had utterly forgotten me has been the cause of my illness lasting so long; the suspense gave me intense suffering. Now that I know the contrary I pick up courage, and shall hope soon to see you again. Verily, it is I who should complain, I who am constrained to take so many precautions and suffer cruel suspense. But I can now bear my hapless lot with fortitude, since the most amiable, captivating, and charming being in the universe is the cause of all. For the rest, I will never change unless you compel me. Ah! how happy I should be in your service!—my bliss would be perfect and I should wish for nothing else in the world! These words of mine mean a great deal; I do not know whether you weigh them well. If you would graciously deign to answer me two words, I should quite recover, and then be better able to assure you by word of mouth that I am verily your most obedient slave.”

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Footnote 66:

Wherever square brackets occur the matter is interpolated.

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Alas! the Princess did not weigh his words well; perhaps she did not grasp their full import, certainly she did not realise to what they must inevitably lead. On Königsmarck’s return he seems to have presumed overmuch on the Princess’s condescension, for he was ever a bold lover. She treated him with reserve, and took alarm at his temerity and her imprudence.

Königsmarck was only at Hanover a week, and then went off again to Hamburg on a diplomatic mission to the King of Sweden.[67] The Kings of Sweden and Denmark at first had been inclined to join the confederation of the Allies, and sent envoys to the conference at the Hague; but after the fall of Mons they showed signs of wavering, and were now intriguing with the petty German courts, with the object of forming what William of Orange called a “Third Party in Europe”. Duke Ernest Augustus, already disaffected and leaning towards France, true to his policy of selling to the highest bidder, coquetted with this Third Party, and, without consultation with the Dukes of Celle and Wolfenbüttel, he entered on an offensive and defensive treaty with Sweden.

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Footnote 67:

“Since my last, July 31, the Count Königsmarck is sent from Hanover with the ratification of the late Treaty to Hamburg, either to carry it to Sweden himself or send it thence.”—Colt’s _Despatch_, Celle, August 4, 1691.

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The fact that Königsmarck was despatched on this mission shows that he still stood high in the favour of the Duke of Hanover, who doubtless sent him thinking, as he was a Swede by birth, he would be _persona grata_ with the King of Sweden. In this Ernest Augustus was mistaken, for the Swedish monarch loved not absentee nobles, and disapproved of Königsmarck’s holding a commission in the Hanoverian service. Later he marked his displeasure in a decided way. Frequent efforts were even now made to induce the Count to quit an alien service and enter that of his native King, and it would have been the right and proper thing for him to do; but there was a magnet at Hanover which drew him thither with a force he could not resist. His passion for Sophie Dorothea had completely mastered him; without her, life was worthless to him, and he was ready to cast away every consideration to remain by her side. While absent on this mission he wrote this letter to the Princess, evidently in answer to a note from her:—

“HAMBURG, _July_ 24.

“If you had been free from blame you would not have deigned to write at all; yet in spite of the way in which you have treated me, I needs must worship you still. The sorrow and contrition you express have determined me to leave here the day after to-morrow. If you still wish to comfort a poor dejected heart torn by jealousy and love, let me come back. You well know it is probably the only favour I shall ever ask of you, for I hope the good God will take me out of this world rather than let me suffer so. Do not, I implore you, refuse my prayer, and believe that whatever course you may force me to take I shall never cease to love you.

_Alas! I love my destruction, And nurse a fire within my breast Which will speedily consume me. I am well aware of my perdition, Because I have aspired to love Where I should only have worshipped._”[68]

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Footnote 68:

Some lines of German doggerel which can only be rendered thus.

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From this it would seem there was a likelihood of Königsmarck’s not returning to Hanover at this time, and he had probably threatened to enter the service of the King of Sweden. But, whether by desire of the Princess or not, he came back, and she gave him audience as before. Timid and fearful though she was, she could not resist the temptation of playing with fire,—the very danger lent a zest. But still the Princess held back from committing herself definitely, and her uncertain attitude towards her lover threw him into a tumult of alternative hope and despondency. The state of his mind is expressed in the following letter:—

“[HANOVER, undated.]

“I am in the depths of despair at finding so little opportunity of speaking to you. I dare not even admire the eyes that give me life. For pity’s sake let me see you alone, that I may say four words—only four small words. Oh! how dearly it costs me to love you! But the joy of speaking to you now and then makes amends for all the pain. I shall go away to-morrow. God knows if I shall ever see you again, my life, my goddess! The thought that we may never meet more is death to me. I feel ready to plunge a dagger into my heart; but since I must live, I pray that it may be always for you.”

His threat to leave Hanover was not carried out for the “four words” were granted, and the intimacy went on ripening until the end of August, when the Duke of Hanover, attended by his ministers and a numerous suite, went to Brunswick to meet his cousin Antony Ulrich in conference, for Ernest Augustus still remained hostile to the Allies.[69] Königsmarck went in his train, but Sophie Dorothea remained at Hanover. On the journey Königsmarck wrote to the Princess, and again on receiving an answer from her. That the intrigue must have grown during those few weeks is evident from the fact that the cypher agreed upon between them now makes its appearance in the correspondence, and from the bolder and more affectionate tone of his letters. Hitherto he had signed himself _Vôtre esclave_, or _Vôtre très-obéissant valet_; now he ends, _Adieux, émable Brune. Je vous embrasse les jenous._ Truly a stride in intimacy.

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Footnote 69:

Colt’s _Despatch_, Brunswick, August 28, 1691.

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“[BRUNSWICK,] _August_ 20/30.

“No mortal was ever so happy as I when, on arriving here, I found your letter. I am now in your good graces, and am losing all the weak suspicions that tore my heart in twain. Do not doubt my love; God be my witness, I have never loved as I love you. Were you to see me now you would exclaim, ‘Is it possible that any man can be so downcast?’ My dejection is wholly the result of absence from you. My noble travelling companion[70] could tell you of the state in which he sees me daily, though you may be sure that I hide from him the cause. You may not believe it, but on the word of a man of honour, I am often so overcome that I am near swooning away; and yesterday evening, when I was out walking, and thinking of the many days that I must pass before seeing you, I became so agitated that it brought on a palpitation of the heart, and I was obliged to return home. I know not what would have happened had not my servant brought me a cordial, and even then it was a long time before I recovered. Were it not for your dear letter, I should have utterly broken down. Your medicine is excellent for my malady; send me some oftener.... I am ready to cast at your feet my life, my honour, my future, my fortune. I have forsworn all other women for you; if you doubt this, name any one you would like me to abandon, and I will never speak to her again. _Adieux, émable Brune. La poste pars, il faux finir. Je vous embrasse les jenous._”[71]

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Footnote 70:

Probably Prince Ernest Augustus, youngest son of the Duke of Hanover.

Footnote 71:

Here and elsewhere the writers are responsible for their French.

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The court returned from Brunswick, Königsmarck in its train, and remained at Hanover through September. Again the Princess became alarmed at the growth of the intimacy; she saw herself on the brink of a precipice, and as she did not want to fall into it, she urged her lover to go away for a time. Königsmarck promised obedience, but fell ill of malarial fever, which he had contracted in the Morea—an illness of which he did not fail to make the most. The Princess’s sympathies were touched; nothing more was said about his leaving, and during his sickness she even seems to have been so imprudent as to pay him stolen visits at his house by night. It was not difficult. The house where Königsmarck is reputed to have lived in Hanover is in a street hard by the palace. There was a way through the gardens in those days, and under cover of the darkness, disguised, with the help of Knesebeck, the Princess could have avoided notice. Besides, at that time Königsmarck probably had his sister Aurora staying with him, and she could be made the excuse in case of discovery. But, all the same, the risk was considerable. The Princess felt that she had gone too far, for when Königsmarck recovered she again tried to check his ardour. All this is touched upon in the four following letters which Königsmarck wrote to the Princess during this period.

“[HANOVER, undated.]

“Alas! why do you hold out the hope of letting me see you alone without meaning it? I know you too well: you are not brave enough to venture on such a course, and I do not even ask you, for fear you should expose yourself to danger. You wish me to leave. It is settled my journey begins to-morrow week. You wish it—that is enough. I see, alas! too well that everything is against me. To live in Hanover without your society is impossible. I would rather go and plough the earth than stay here under such conditions. Oh! if I could only crawl away somewhere and die quietly! But, after all, nothing matters. I can no longer hope for happiness. My Intimate[72] takes tolerable care to keep us apart, and, for him to succeed, you have only to give credence to all he may tell you. I hope, however, that the love you seem to bear me will hinder you from being deceived. If you wish to do me a favour, let me know with whom you talk at court; it is not from jealousy that I ask, only from interest. If you answer this the same messenger will be waiting to receive your letter, at the same spot. Comfort me, I implore you, for I suffer much for love of you. If by chance you should play [cards] in the grand hall, my man, for fear of being seen, will be waiting in the gallery leading to your apartments.”

“You have laid down a law which it will be hard for me to keep—to be all day long without seeing you, but, since you wish it, I must obey. I hope, however, that you will let me wait on you in your apartments this evening. If you cannot manage this, will you meet me to-night at my house? Let me know your decision. Should you decide on the latter course, you will find no one at my place; the door will be open, so come in boldly and without fear. I am dying of impatience to see you. Answer me soon that I may know what to do. Farewell, dear heart.”

“Nothing could have comforted me more in my sickness than your sweet letter, I find it full of tenderness. I am sorry you have found the time so tedious. I suffer from the same misfortune, and have no chance of being happier to-day unless you wish to play. If my fever be not too great, I will pass under your windows in the hope of seeing you. You will not refuse me this grace; you know the sight of you will be a soothing balm in my sickness; a visit from you would be an infallible remedy. You speak to me of _passion_. Alas! it is for me to speak of it—mine is so great that it will consume me utterly at last. Oh! my dear, my dear! do you think that you love with as much passion as I love?... It is cruelly hard for me not to be with you always—I am compelled to keep away from you, God knows with what grief. The Count de Reuss[73] prevents me from ending my letter as I would.”

“Of a truth I was ill pleased with the cold airs you treated me to yesterday, and I spent the night most miserably. I was in great sorrow and fain to weep, and all these emotions made me very feverish for nearly three hours. I vow, my divine beauty, that I never remember being in such a pitiful plight before. ‘Alas! alas!’ I cried, ‘God burns me with sickness, and gives me no comfort, for He freezes the heart of my divinity, and life is intolerable.’ I threw myself on my knees, tears in my eyes, and prayed that, if it were true that you loved me no longer, I might die.... I cannot tell you, therefore, the joy your letter gave me. I kissed it time and again. I hate myself for having thought you guilty of inconstancy; I cast myself at your feet, praying pardon, and I promise never to be so ready to believe things again.

“I am awaiting Her Highness’s commands.[74] When you give me leave I shall fly to you; and if I am not wanted, I shall show that I cannot attach myself to any one else, for I shall take the first mail coach to join my regiment. I hope that in time Fortune will get tired of persecuting me so cruelly, and Fate will be in my favour; but whatever misfortunes may befall, I shall bear them with joy so long as the heart I adore remains constant to me. My happiness and fortune are there, my ambition is bounded there. For pity’s sake believe me faithful. To convince you the better how I love you, how I worship you, I sign this with my blood. Whilst you love me, you will be worshipped by

”KÖNIGSMARCK. “(_Written in blood._)”

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Footnote 72:

Prince Ernest Augustus.

Footnote 73:

The Count de Reuss was the uncle by marriage of Sophie Dorothea; he had married Angelica d’Olbreuse, sister of the Duchess of Celle.

Footnote 74:

_I.e._, the commands of the Princess.

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Duke Ernest Augustus was now setting out on an autumn visit to the Duke of Celle at his hunting-seats of Epsdorff and Göhre.[75] The Duke of Celle was much keener on the chase than on affairs of state. Every autumn he went to Epsdorff, a village some eight miles from Hamburg, where he had a schloss, to hunt the stag and the wild boar; and then to Göhre, a remote spot some fifty miles from Celle. He took his duchess and his court with him; and this year he combined pleasure with business, for he invited the Duke of Hanover and Duke Antony Ulrich to hunt with him by day and discuss affairs of state in the evening. The result of this visit was that the Duke of Hanover was persuaded to take up a neutral, and no longer hostile, attitude towards William of Orange.

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Footnote 75:

Colt’s _Despatch_, October, 1691, Epsdorff.

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[Illustration:

FACSIMILE OF ONE OF KÖNIGSMARCK’S LETTERS TO THE PRINCESS. _Photographed from the original manuscript in the University Library of Lund._ ]

Princess Sophie Dorothea was setting out for Epsdorff with her father-in-law, but the day before starting she was taken ill. Königsmarck at first hoped that the indisposition was feigned, in order to avoid her departure from Hanover and from him.

“Alas!” he laments, “we shall never be happy. No sooner do I recover from sickness than my adored one sinks under it. I suffered in mine, but yours makes me suffer a great deal more; it hurt me so much to see you in pain that I wished myself a hundred miles away. You will say that was not very kind, but I could not bear to see you in such agony. If perchance your illness were not so grave as it seems, it would be a little comfort, for I might think you were pretending, for love of me.”

He quickly found that she was not pretending, and as soon as she recovered the Princess went to Epsdorff and then to Göhre. Königsmarck suggested that he should go to Hamburg, which was near the latter place, so that he might see something of the Princess; but she wisely begged him not to go, and he went to spend the period of absence with his regiment, which was quartered near Hanover. A little later he writes:—

“[FROM THE CAMP, undated.]

“I have been hoping to receive one line from your charming hand. Can it be, after all you told me, that I am quite forgotten? I cannot believe it. I will pardon you this time, but have pity. Without an assurance of your love I cannot live.... I will not go to Hamburg. I take Heaven for my witness that since you have been away from me I have not spent an hour without thinking of you, without picturing your charms. I delight in doing so; it nourishes my poor heart crushed with sadness. Why cannot I take wings like my desire? I should this moment be in your lovely arms, tasting the sweet delights of your lips.... I have already brushed away the thing asked of me, and I hope to succeed, but, remember, it is for the love of you that I am giving everything up.[76] I am shut up here in my room without seeing any one; I scarcely ever leave it. I am away with my thoughts, far away from the earth. If by chance an officer wants to speak to me concerning the regiment, I am furious at losing so much time without thinking of you. I hope after all these assurances you will not ask me again whether I love you. If you still doubt it will kill me. But I must tell you that I have a consolation here, close to me; not a pretty girl but a bear, which I feed. If you should fail me I will bare my chest and let him tear my heart out. I am teaching him that trick with sheep and calves, and he doesn’t manage it badly. If ever I have need of him—God help me! I shall not suffer long.”

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Footnote 76:

Probably he refers to an appointment offered him by the King of Sweden.

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During this separation Königsmarck addressed other letters to the Princess in a similar strain, full of extravagant expressions of passion. It is not necessary to quote them, because they are, in the main, a repetition of what has gone before. The Princess apparently answered some of the letters, but she was chary of writing to him from Epsdorff, for, in spite of all the caution observed, the intrigue had begun to excite suspicion. It was mentioned to the Duchess of Celle, and she took the opportunity of her daughter’s visit to remonstrate with her, and to implore her to avoid further communication with Königsmarck. The warnings of her mother, who dearly loved her, aroused the Princess to a sense of peril. She made another effort to draw back. When she returned to Hanover, she wrote to Königsmarck urging him to marry, as the only way of freeing them both from the dangers that threatened them. Her letter called forth the following remonstrance:—

“[HANOVER, undated.]

“Alas! the miserable day that I have feared so much has dawned. I must marry, since you wish it; it shall be done. I will obey your wishes; it is enough that you will have it so. My death-sentence is inscribed by the hand I adore. I confess I should never have expected to see so dreadful a sentence passed on me by you. But of what am I complaining? I must remember that I have loved you, and I ought to have known the sex better than to believe all you vowed to me. Alas! I was weak and believed it; I must now be firm enough to support the consequences. Your cruelty goes too far, for, unless you wished to wound me, you could never have treated me thus. Why has not God given you a heart less cruel and me a heart less tender?—we should agree better then. I have never been but yours; I wanted to be so all my life,[77] but you do not regard my constancy.... You wish me to marry to save myself from destruction, but you do not reflect that marriage would surely bring about my ruin. There are two ways of escape from this dilemma. The first, and the more agreeable to me, is for you not to suffer me to marry; and if my ruin follows, as I foresee, not to forsake me. The second will be easier for you. It is to let me marry, and swear to me on your oath that you will always cherish the affection you have seemed to show me. I will wait until your answer comes, which I hope to receive from your hand (not disguised, if you please);[78] and I mean to regulate my conduct accordingly, so that I may have nothing to reproach myself with. But you love me no longer—your head has triumphed over your heart; and it is not even enough that you love me no longer, you wish me to love you no more. What a hard thing! How will it be possible for me to obey? No, Madame, in spite of all, I shall always adore you; my love will be extinguished only with my life. Pray believe this from your most humble and affectionate servant.”

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Footnote 77:

A reference to their early friendship.

Footnote 78:

This is a reference to the fact that some of the Princess’s letters to him at this time were dictated by her only, and actually written by Knesebeck (_La Confidente_) to disarm suspicion. Some too she wrote in a disguised hand.

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Sophie Dorothea was by nature weak in judgment, strong in passion. She could not sit down and pen the sentence of what she supposed must be lifelong wretchedness to her lover, and urge him to marry while his heart was still wholly devoted to her. She had neither the courage nor the firmness to insist on separation; in fact, until she came face to face with the alternative of giving him up for ever, she had not realised how much she loved him nor how great an influence he had gained over her. So the marriage scheme was dropped. She wrote him to the effect that she could not help loving him, but he must restrain himself and be more prudent in the future. She was rewarded by an ecstatic reply:—

“I am the happiest man in the world. If it be true that you love me as you say, and your love will last always, where is the bliss to equal mine? I fear my joy will be too apparent, that every one will see in my eyes it can only emanate from you. I will restrain myself as much as I can; but ‘when the heart is so proud the eyes play the traitor’. Your eyes, more than I dared hope, declared to me last evening the feelings of your heart. I am so overjoyed that I am hardly able to express myself. I hope to tell you this evening all I am not writing.”

It was now the autumn. Military operations in Flanders had reopened in the summer, but the campaign of 1691 had been more or less of a farce. The two armies, that of William and that of Louis, had marched and counter-marched, advanced and retreated, without coming to an engagement, and after having thus performed a stately minuet for some months, both armies retired to winter quarters. The Brunswick prince took no part in the campaign, and all this time Prince George Louis, who was very friendly with William, had been sulking over his enforced inaction at home. In October he was seized with a serious attack of measles.[79] His illness aroused the slumbering sympathies of his wife, and she nursed him towards recovery; doubtless she felt that such conduct was the best answer to the malicious tales of her enemies. Königsmarck was thrown into despair on hearing of the improved relations between Sophie Dorothea and her husband, for his passion for her was very virile and very selfish. He addressed to her this jealous protest:—

“With what grief I hear that you have been in other arms than mine! I cannot express what I feel, but it must be so, I suppose; at least, you suffer it with regret, and take care to tell me. I confess I should never have enough power over myself to endure the embraces of a person I did not love; I would rather see all the Furies than an object I detested. However, your promises reassure me of your affection, and give me comfort; without that small consolation I should be miserable indeed. I adore and love you to distraction, yet I must not see you! Are there any torments like this in hell? But I can endure the anguish by remembering my martyrdom is through you, and it is for love of you I suffer: you are well worth the pain. I am wrong to be so disturbed since you assure me of your love. ‘What will assure me of your constancy?’ Your conduct is the guarantee I ask of you. It is superfluous for me to make new protestations of love and faithfulness, for I have given you solid and convincing proofs; but if, haply, you will not believe these, believe the vows I made you and am ready to make at any time.”

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Footnote 79:

Colt’s _Despatch_, October 9/19, 1691.

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Despite this letter, the illness of the Prince made the Princess more friendly with her husband, and this friendliness was accompanied by a coldness on her part towards Königsmarck. When he remonstrated she excused herself on the ground that he had shown her indifference. This called forth the following:—

“If I had behaved like you I might be accused of indifference, but when sorrow wears me to a shadow you are cruel to thus accuse me. All the people at court are asking me what ails me; they think my face as haggard as if I were recovering from a serious illness. I have been obliged to pretend that I fell downstairs; but many will not believe this excuse. Let them think what they please, so long as they do not suspect that the true cause of my illness arises from your injustice and disdainful airs. Do you think me the man to easily condone such conduct? If so, you are mistaken. I would rather go off to the Indies than be treated in this way. If our love were a little fashionable gallantry, well and good; I should accommodate myself to your moods, and quarrel with you almost every day, but I treat our affair more seriously, and therefore I cannot possibly submit to your coldness. Did I not beg of you, for God’s sake, to tell me what ailed you? But I could get nothing from you except, ‘Leave me in peace’. I answered, ‘No, I will know at any cost’. You then had the courtesy to say, ‘Get you gone’. I went at once, with a firm resolution not to appear before you again unless you positively ordered me. That is why I have not seen you this evening.”

The rest of the letter contains requests that he might know how he stood with the Princess, so that he might shape his course accordingly. He was beside himself with jealousy. He could not believe that she had any compassion for her husband, and persisted in looking for the cause of her coldness elsewhere. Especially he resented her attending the opera and taking part in sledge-parties to which he was not invited, and he wrote to Knesebeck complaining bitterly of the Princess’s treatment.

The Princess so far relented as to receive from her lover two letters expressing grateful delight at the change of her conduct; but his delight apparently was not unalloyed. When Prince George Louis was better, the Princess left to visit the Duke and Duchess of Celle at Wienhausen,[80] another country place of the Duke’s a short distance from Celle. From Wienhausen she went to Celle, whither Königsmarck followed her, greatly daring. The Duchess of Celle, who now learned that Königsmarck had neither married nor gone away, and things were apparently much as before, again remonstrated with her daughter, and urged her to break with him definitely. The Duchess did not dream there was anything more than a passing fancy, a little imprudence; but she reminded her daughter that she was surrounded by enemies who would seize on any pretext to encompass her ruin. The Princess saw the force of her mother’s reasoning. She had not yet reached that point of passion which takes no count of consequences; but Königsmarck had reached it, and compromise seemed impossible. She implored her lover to leave her, at any rate for a time. Seeming to acquiesce, he wrote:—

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Footnote 80:

Colt’s _Despatch_, November 19, 1691.

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“[CELLE, undated.]

“I see nothing but ruin before my eyes, but I hope to avert it by a glorious death, which I will seek all over the earth. It is the only thing to pray for now: for since I may not live with you, I will not live at all. I am very grateful to you for undeceiving me about your coolness. You give me back life by assuring me that all they tell you does not turn you against me.... I have had a letter from a friend who is in the same state as myself,—that is why he is going to the Morea.[81] If Fortune does not change, I shall go on that expedition with him, and, I hope, never return. Perchance you may be kind enough to have a memorial erected for me; if so, do not forget to inscribe on it that I welcomed death with joy, because I was forbidden to look into your beautiful eyes. Ah, Madame! how you make me suffer! Are these the delights of love?

_Amour vois les mos que tu fais Aux où les biens que tus promes Natus pas pitié de ma peine?_[82]

When wilt thou have pity? When shall I overcome thy coldness? Wilt thou ever keep from me the rapture of tasting perfect joy? I seek it in thy arms; and if I may not taste it there, I care for naught else. No! if I may not be happy with you, I will not be happy at all. If fortune were to destine me to a kingdom, I would not care for it without you. On the contrary, if I desire anything for myself, to win renown, to push myself to great estate, it is only for the love of you and in the hope that you may love me more, for an insignificant lover without high employment cannot hope to be long in the good graces of a lady of your rank. If God spare my life, I vow I will remain a constant lover, and advance in dignity and honour. You see, Madame, I have a good opinion of myself. Know this: when one wishes to climb for the love of the lovely one, one succeeds or one sinks utterly; it will be one or the other with me. My resolve to leave you is not consistent with such tender love, I admit; but you suffer too much on my account. I should be the cruellest man on earth were I not to go away, and so give you a little relief from the persecution you are suffering; for when my enemies see me no longer happy, they will cease from tattling. But will absence injure me with you? Are you a woman who can still love without seeing the loved one? Will my envious enemies succeed in their infamous designs? Will you forsake me?”

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Footnote 81:

Troops were being sent to the Morea at this time, and Prince Christian, son of the Duke of Hanover, wished to go with them. He did not go.—_Vide_ Colt’s despatches.

Footnote 82:

This is a literal rendering of Königsmarck’s French.

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The Princess was so much frightened at the thought that her lover was going on another perilous campaign in the Morea, where he had narrowly escaped death the year before, and where Prince Charles was slain, that she recalled her words and wrote begging him to stay. Königsmarck at once seized the advantage he had gained; he became bolder and more definite in his demands. For every inch the Princess yielded he took an ell. He answered:—

“You know only too well that I should not go away except on your account, and since you ask me to stay I will do so with joy. My greatest delight is to pay you my court. But, Madame, you are unjust to imagine I love you no longer. Is it for people we do not love that we change our moods and plans? Is it because I do not love you I suffer no end of humiliation, anxiety, and sorrow? I am not so unjust as you; I like to believe that you love me. There are many men who would not believe all you say took place, but for myself I set such store on everything you tell me that I believe it like the Gospel. Rest assured that my love is above all things. I see you in so tender a mood that I cannot find words to thank you enough, though I fear you are willing to let me continue in misery, even though you no longer fear your parents’ preachments. You are too charming, my divine Princess. I am so touched that I rule myself wholly according to your will. I would leave my head on the scaffold rather than neglect anything you may wish me to do. I had very little opportunity of speaking to you yesterday, yet I was much relieved, for the only sign I received, though given in haste, reassured me so much that I slept soundly. It is the first time I have slept since I came to Celle.... Commune with your heart: if it be true to me, it will encourage you to do something bold. Courage, Madame; see me for once—no more—half a quarter of an hour. I wish to thank you on my knees for your constancy. It is the only thing I ask you. But do not risk anything for me; it might spoil all. It is better to suffer a little while than always.”

That his prayer was granted may be gathered from the following:—

“The moments seem to me centuries. I cannot watch the daylight without raging. Why do not the hours shut up into moments? What would I not give for twelve o’clock to strike? Be sure to have ready _de l’eau de la reine d’Hongrie_, for fear I swoon of rapture. What! I shall embrace to-night the loveliest of women. I shall kiss her charming mouth. I shall worship her eyes, those eyes that enslave me. I shall hear from her very lips that she loves me. I shall have the joy of embracing her knees; my tears will chase down her incomparable cheeks. I shall hold in my arms the most beautiful body in the world. Verily, Madame, I shall die of joy. But so long as I have time to tell thee that I die thy slave, I care for naught beside.”