CHAPTER XIII.
CROSSING THE RUBICON. (1692.)
Bist du mein? Hab’ ich dich wieder? Darf ich dich fassen? Kann ich mir trauen? Endlich! Endlich!
Art thou mine? Do I behold thee? Do I embrace thee? Can I believe it? At last! At last! _Tristan und Isolde._
While the Princess was still at Celle an event happened at Hanover which created much excitement. Colt writes: “The gates have been shut for two days at Hanover, accompanied with a great consternation. Yet first the two Moltkes were brought to court under a guard, where they are kept close, and all their papers taken. One is Jagermaster,[83] and hath been employed in the business with the Duke of Saxe-Gotha; and the other was Lieutenant-Colonel, and had waited upon the Prince Max; and there is also secured a secretary to the Duke of Wolfenbüttel, who formerly served Prince Augustus, the Duke’s second son, who was killed in Transylvania. And next day Prince Max was secured under guard in his chamber, none of his servants being suffered to come near him; but the Duchess, who is under great affliction, and the Duke say’d publicly that there were designs against his person and Government, and many storeys are dispersed about.”[84]
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Footnote 83:
Grand Master of the Hunt.
Footnote 84:
Colt’s _Despatch_, Celle, December 8, 1691.
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The story circulated by authority was that Count Moltke, who was in waiting on the Duke, had presented a snuff-box to His Highness when he was playing at quadrille. The Duke, suspecting something wrong, asked the Count to take his cards for a moment, and going into the adjoining room gave a pinch of the snuff to a pet spaniel, with the result that the dog immediately fell dead. When he had given some hurried orders, the Duke returned to the card-table, and presently told Count Moltke that some one was waiting for him without. When the Count went out of the room, he found himself a prisoner, and his arrest was followed by that of his brother, the Wolfenbüttel secretary, and Prince Maximilian.
This was the rumour industriously spread abroad; but it was not correct. Moltke had made no attempt against the life of his sovereign; but he had undoubtedly plotted against his authority. The old question of the union of the Dukedoms of Celle and Hanover, and the settling of all territory on Prince George Louis to the exclusion of his younger brothers, had cropped up again. This was the Duke of Hanover’s darling scheme, a necessary step towards the coveted electorate, and he would allow nothing to come between him and his ambition. The younger princes stoutly opposed it and rebelled. The Duke of Wolfenbüttel secretly abetted them, because primogeniture would add largely to the future aggrandisement of Hanover; and even the Duchess Sophia regarded the plan with dislike, as it pressed so hardly on her younger sons. Prince Augustus being dead, it now fell on Prince Max, the third son, to rebel, and Count Moltke and his brother aided and abetted him. The Wolfenbüttel secretary was also implicated; the plot was almost ripe, and a rising was planned, when the conspirators were betrayed by a double traitor, who had wormed himself into their confidence by pretending to be their friend. An outbreak of the populace was feared, for the people’s sympathies were with the young princes in their resistance to this innovation, and Prince George Louis was unpopular.
The Duke of Hanover’s resentment was very great, especially against his cousins of Wolfenbüttel, with whom all relations were abruptly broken off. Prince Max continuing mutinous, and, vowing he would never submit, was kept a closer prisoner than ever; his guards were doubled and his mother forbidden to go near him. Indeed, she herself was suspected and examined before the council. It has been said that the Princess Sophie Dorothea was implicated too, and Moltke was offered his liberty if he would confess her share in the business, but he refused and denied. The suggestion was probably made at the instigation of the Countess Platen, who would start any lie against the Princess. There is no authority for the statement; Colt in his long account of the affair does not even mention the Princess’s name. She was at Celle at the time the plot was discovered, and both the Duke and Duchess of Celle were in favour of the ultimate settlement by primogeniture of the dukedoms on Prince George Louis, seeing that he had wedded their daughter, and the children were their only descendants.
The Princess and her children came back to Hanover with her parents early in January for the carnival. “The court of Celle arrived here last night,” writes Colt, “and were received with extra kindness, much different to what I have seen since I have been in these parts, and they seem to bind all their thoughts to secure the union of these two dukedoms.”[85] And again: “The court of Celle will continue here for some time, and the Duke and Duchess of Celle shew an extraordinary fondness for their daughter and grandchildren”.[86]
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Footnote 85:
Colt’s _Despatch_, Hanover, January 5, 1692.
Footnote 86:
_Ibid._, January 8, 1692.
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By this time Prince Max had been sent away as a prisoner to the castle of Hamelin, and after a good deal of blustering had promised to submit to paternal authority under certain conditions. Further inquiries revealed that the plot was an old one and had many branches. Duke Antony Ulrich had been the moving power, and both the dead princes, Augustus and Charles, were inculpated. The feeling at the Hanoverian court ran strongly against Duke Antony Ulrich, and even the Duchess Sophia found herself exposed to resentment, though nothing could be proved against her, poor lady, beyond that, having a mother’s heart, she had helped her unruly sons now and then out of her slender pin money (not that she had much to give—Countess Platen saw to that) when their father had cast them out with the proverbial shilling. It must have been a sore time for the proud, high-spirited Duchess. To add a drop more of bitterness to her cup, the Duchess of Celle was now at Hanover, a witness of the humiliation of her rival, and herself flattered and courted. It may be doubted if Eléonore had sufficient magnanimity not to vaunt her triumph; yet she would have done well to be humble in the days of her prosperity, for even at this, its apogee, there was a far more dangerous intrigue than any Prince Max was involved in, secretly but surely undermining her future happiness, and threatening to bring disaster on her cherished schemes, and ruin and dishonour on all most dear to her.
But whatever misery and wretchedness lay behind the scenes, externally the court of Hanover was as gay and brilliant as ever. The New Year opened as usual with the carnival, an Italian opera, and a series of festivities, in which all took part, from the court down to the common people. The taverns were thronged with mummers and masqueraders, the streets of the old town were bright with booths and bunting, and a large concourse of merrymakers flocked to Hanover from the surrounding towns and villages. The nobility came from their country estates, and many of the neighbouring princes and princesses came for the carnival too. In all these festivities Sophie Dorothea was the central figure. Every one paid court to the beautiful young Princess of Hanover, who, high in the favour of her parents and the Duke of Hanover, triumphed for the moment over her enemies and seemed to gather up in herself and her children all the brilliant hopes of the House of Brunswick-Lüneburg.
The children formed the strong link of the alliance between Celle and Hanover. Even the Duchess of Celle had come to see that, however much in her heart she might dislike the Duchess Sophia and the Hanoverian influence, henceforth their interests were to a great extent identical. The young Prince George Augustus was now nine, the little Princess Sophie Dorothea five; they were her grandchildren and the representatives of the fast accumulating dignities of the House. The future union of the dukedoms was settled, the electorate of Hanover was almost assured, the crown of England, now that William and Mary had ascended the throne, no longer a mere mirage. Who could tell to what brilliant future these children might not be destined? Her descendants—the descendants of the hated and despised Eléonore—the “Frenchwoman,” the _canaille_, the “Signora,” the “little clot of dirt”—might live to ascend the mightiest thrones of Europe.[87] These considerations might well make Duchess Eléonore pause, and make her watch closely the conduct of her daughter, lest by folly or indiscretion she might blight her career and injure the prospects of her children. She again spoke to the Princess and urged her to avoid Königsmarck. The Princess-Dowager of East Friesland, who, with her daughter-in-law, had come to Hanover (ostensibly for the carnival, in reality to try to smooth things down between the Dukes of Hanover and Wolfenbüttel), also repeated certain rumours she had heard to the Duchess of Celle, who in turn communicated them to her daughter. The Princess was frightened, and directed Knesebeck to tell Königsmarck of what had passed, and to impress on him the need of greater caution in the future. Königsmarck wrote:—
“[HANOVER, _February_.]
“I am extremely surprised to learn from La Confidente all that has happened. As I had heard nothing from you, I was in despair; but when your letter came it was so loving that I will not hint at what I feared most. I again picked up a little courage. What worries me most is that your mother has been preaching at you; for though she may be on your side she is sure to watch you closely, and when she learns that you have been talking to me she will become more suspicious, and I fear will tell everything to the Duke. Try to prevent that, or we are lost for ever. I am grieved to be the cause of all this trouble. But you are so sweet and charming, it is not my fault; you must blame yourself for having made in me such an unlucky choice. It is cruel to think that while everybody can make love to you, and you can speak to whom you will without any fault-finding, I am the only one excluded. When I think how your mother encourages Monsieur Welling,[88] on the one hand, and on the other forbids me to speak to you, I am so enraged that I could stab her, and I wish her a thousand times a day to the devil. If the earth were to open and swallow up her and the Dowager,[89] how glad I should be! I believe all the fiends plot together to annoy me, but they will not succeed if only you remain faithful. I can patiently endure all things so long as you do not change, but I fear they will terrify you so that in the end they will succeed in their diabolical plans. How I hate them! Were I lord of the thunderbolts there would be many grey heads battered about; but as I am not, I can only implore you to hate all those who are working against me, and urging you to forget me. You will not refuse this prayer if you have any love left for me. If you wish, I will go away to some village near, for I cannot veil my eyes so that the world does not see my adoration; but if you will suffer me even to look at you, you will give me joy,—without that I cannot stay. Be merciful and write to me. Forget not to assure me of your love, for now is the time; if your heart begins to cool, the plotters will succeed in their infamous designs.
“Now as to reproaches. You might have spoken to me coming out of the Princess’s[90] door, for your father had already retired, and there would have been no danger on account of the Prince. But terror prevented you; I know you so well. I have everything to fear; every one plots against me, men and demons, and even old women, who are worse than demons.”
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Footnote 87:
As, in point of fact, they did, George Augustus as George II. of Great Britain; Sophie Dorothea as Queen of Prussia, and mother of Frederick the Great.
Footnote 88:
“Baron Welling is come hither to prepare matters.”—Colt’s _Despatch_, Hanover, January, 1692.
Footnote 89:
The Princess-Dowager of East Friesland. “The two Princesses of East Frise [Friesland] arrived yesterday.”—Colt’s _Despatch_, Hanover, February 9, 1692.
Footnote 90:
The Princess of East Friesland.
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The Princess was torn by conflicting emotions—her infatuation on the one hand, and her dread of discovery on the other. She had not yet capitulated wholly; but under the impetuous assaults of her lover the outworks were falling one by one, the citadel would soon be stormed. While she was hesitating, the carnival broke up, and Sophie Dorothea returned with her parents to Celle. The Duchess Sophia seems to have gone too.[91]
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Footnote 91:
“The Duke of Hanover hath sent all the women hither.”—Colt’s _Despatch_, Celle, February 23, 1692.
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The Duke of Hanover had an object in sending “all the women” out of the way, for he wished to try his prisoners and bring Prince Max to his knees—things he could do better when freed from feminine influence. He soon succeeded, for Max renounced his claims, and the prisoners were found guilty and sent back to their prison to wait sentence. The Duke of Hanover then went to join his brother at Celle, where much company was assembled, including the Duke and Duchess of Saxe-Eisenach. Königsmarck was there too, perhaps in the suite of the Duke of Hanover, possibly on a visit to his brother-in-law, Count Lewenhaupt, to whom the Duke of Celle had recently given the command of a regiment of Foot.[92]
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Footnote 92:
“The Duke of Celle hath at last given the new-raised regiment of Foot to the Count Lewenhaupt, a Swede, brother-in-law to Count Königsmarck, who commands a regiment of Hanover.”—Colt’s _Despatch_, January 22, 1692.
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Königsmarck was, of course, invited to all the court festivities at Celle, and had many opportunities of meeting the Princess. But she was on her guard in public, so much so that the Duchess of Celle could detect nothing definite, though she seems to have sounded Königsmarck, if we may judge from his next letter to the Princess. In this letter appears the first hint of an idea which gradually matured in the Princess’s mind side by side with the growth of her passion—namely, that she and her lover should escape by flight from a situation intolerable to both.
“[CELLE, _March_.]
“La Confidente will tell you that I was more than satisfied yesterday, though I had no other delight than pressing your hand. Our restraint has its charms, for though the last few days I have seen you only in places where even the language of the eyes is scarcely possible, I have had many happy moments. What a delight _ma petite_, for us to be able to communicate with impunity in the presence of thousands of people! What a delight! Speak to me a little more in the same way, but only when there is no risk, for I should be sore distressed to cause you more trouble than I do already.... Keep in the same mind as you were yesterday, and though the whole world conspire against us, never mind so long as we love one another. They will soon tire of preaching at you, and then we shall enjoy perfect peace. I have not yet seen Aurora, but I shall know all from her. I have had a long conversation with the Duchess of Celle. I believe her to be the most deceitful of women. She says the prettiest things to me, yet all the time she is doing her best to ruin me with you. I hope to Heaven she will not succeed! Do not believe all these women may tell you, for they will make every effort to set you against me. But I should be wrong to doubt you _after the proposition you made to me—that you are willing to leave all this pomp and splendour and retire with me to some corner of the world_. After that I have nothing to fear. I accept your offer with joy. You have only to say the word and I am ready. If the result of your parents’ persecution be to force you to take such a step, I hope they will persecute you a hundred times more, so that you may act promptly. Why should we not fly to-night?
“Surely, Madame, my manner towards the Duchess of Saxe-Eisenach[93] must have shown you that my heart is all yours, and no other beauty can find place there, not even that princess. I hope you have no cause to complain of my behaviour to the other ladies here. It is true I flattered His Highness’s mistress,[94] in the hope she would tell me what she was about, and she would not say anything. I stand well with Monseigneur,[95] and he shows me more courtesy than usual.”
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Footnote 93:
“The Duke and Duchess of Saxe-Eisenach are come hither.”—Colt’s _Despatch_, Celle, March 4, 1692.
Footnote 94:
Countess Platen.
Footnote 95:
Duke of Celle.
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The Princess, during the next few days at Celle, seems to have behaved with more circumspection. In this she was only obeying the dictates of common prudence. Nevertheless her precautions called forth the following remonstrances:—
“I imagined that in possessing your love I should be the happiest man in the world. I little thought I should have so few opportunities of speaking to you. I tell you frankly this continual restraint falls far short of perfect felicity, and my happiness will never be complete until I enter upon it wholly. Believe me, this is true. I was speaking to La Confidente about it last night; she will tell you my wishes anon. I have to talk to you just like every one else, and precautions have to be taken, though they wound and vex us. Let us hope for better times, for until then we are doomed to suffer. Meanwhile forget nothing that will give me comfort, and assure me of your tender love; you cannot do this better than in letting me see you as often as possible. Did you really notice how the Duchess of Saxe-Eisenach attacked me? I hope when I have answered her two or three times as curtly as possible, she will clearly understand that I want no intercourse with her.”
“Your kind note assures me of your tender love and assurances must suffice for the present. But, Madame, I am not the man to let myself be made sport of, and if your promises do not agree with your conduct they will not make the slightest impression on me. You have not treated me very well the last two days, and I cannot quite believe your notes; but if you change your manners, I am quite ready to accept your protestations. I am forced to assume an extremely distant manner towards you, and it makes me furious; I wish you could alter it, but you cannot. Pardon me once more. It is my hot temper—I know it, but you are the cause.”
Königsmarck’s “hot temper” seems to have led him into a breach of good manners, for later we find him writing:—
“If you could see my despair you would forgive me the fault I have just committed. I was piqued and annoyed because you would not deign to look at me once during the play, though I sat immediately opposite. I do not deserve your haughty airs; the sacrifice I have made for you of the Duchess of Saxe-Eisenach[96] at least deserved a glance. You can see for yourself that I hardly look at her, and when she speaks to me I answer her very briefly, so as to cut short any further conversation. Her lady-in-waiting says that the Duchess finds me much changed. But a truce to all that; it is not worth speaking about. Give me pardon, Princess, I implore you, and arrange for me to see you to-morrow. I could hardly get a glimpse of you, for the dancing made me very hot, and, as I was unable to change my linen, I did not like to come near you. This is a poor excuse, and I can only throw myself upon your mercy. La Confidente will intercede for me. I hovered outside your apartments for half an hour to see if La Confidente were coming out. I wanted to knock at your back door, but I dared not. What torment for me to miss the society of my adored one! What a night I shall spend! _Grand Dieu!_ what was I thinking about? What demon possessed me? If you will not forgive me you will drive me to despair. I shall go away at once and weep over my sins in the regiment, so let me know my fate. Farewell, my dearest one. Shall I dare to call you so again? Verily I do not deserve that privilege. I am in torment. When will you send me an answer? For the love of Heaven, let me have one soon.”
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Footnote 96:
“The courts of Hanover and Saxe-Eisenach go from hence after to-morrow; there has been much company here for several days.”—Colt’s _Despatch_, Celle, March 8, 1692.
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The Princess forgave him, probably on the morrow, and how fully may be gathered from the following rapturous epistle:—
“I slept like a king, and I hope you did the same. What joy! what rapture! what enchantment have I not tasted in your sweet arms! Ye gods! what a night I spent! The memory of it blots out all my troubles, and for the moment I count myself the happiest man on earth. You see, it rests wholly with you to make me happy, and when I am sad you are the cause. Adieu, dear heart. How long the day will seem to me without seeing you! Adieu.”
And he wrote later the same day:—
“Verily I am overwhelmed by the tokens of love you have vouchsafed to me. I shall never be able to show you my gratitude, but shall always be your debtor. I love and I am loved. Is there any bliss approaching mine? I count myself the happiest of mortals, and even of the gods. Ah! most beautiful one! The tenderness you have shown me compels me to love you, and makes me despise the favours of good and the caprices of bad fortune. Time will bring no change in my love. I would abandon for you all ties—family, relations, women, even wife and children had I any. My passion intoxicates me. I can no longer think—words fail. I commit myself to your keeping; do with me as you will. I can scarcely keep my heart within bounds; it strives perpetually to burst away and thank you for its captivity, for it loves to be the slave of one who treats it so generously. I fear I shall lose it altogether, but as I cannot live without a heart, for pity’s sake, Madame, give me yours in return, for without one or the other I shall die. Do not put off my seeing you this evening, I beseech you. You have convinced me so deeply that you love me, that I have never loved you so much before. You have never appeared to me so altogether lovely. With crossed hands and bended knees I thank you for all you have vouchsafed unto me. Suffer me therefore to see you again to-day, and do not put me off. I should die.
“The Prince went away to-day at eight o’clock. He is angry because you wished to remain with your mother. All goes wonderfully well. Farewell.”
On the return of the court to Hanover, Duke Ernest Augustus concentrated his energies on obtaining the long-deferred electorate, and he made the electoral bonnet a positive condition to his rejoining the Allies. William of Orange was already at the Hague, busily making arrangements for the forthcoming campaign of 1692. He found that Denmark and Sweden threatened to become actively hostile. Brandenburg was sullen, and Saxony disaffected. He could therefore ill afford to lose the services of the Duke of Hanover, and had again to promise him his support and influence with the Emperor for the Electorate. But Ernest Augustus wanted something more than promises. “This Duke,” writes Colt, “is certainly resolved to make all things as sure as he can with the Emperor before he lets his troops stir out of the country.”[97] The Duke of Celle, who was warmly on the side of the Allies, generously waived his claim as elder brother to the electorate, seeing that his younger brother could be gained on no other terms. But still the Emperor hesitated. He knew that the French agent was at Hanover, and intrigues were on foot with Denmark and Sweden, and he stipulated that the Duke should first declare against France. As neither side trusted the other, negotiations did not advance very quickly.
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Footnote 97:
Colt’s _Despatch_, Hanover, April 15, 1692.
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In the meantime Königsmarck went on one of his frequent journeys to Hamburg, ostensibly to visit his estate hard by, probably to combine pleasure with his business. Hamburg was then a strongly fortified town much frequented by the princes of northern Germany. Some ten years previously the first theatre in Germany for operas was opened at Hamburg, and this helped to make it a favourite resort of the gay world. Just at this time it gained a special importance, as it was the meeting-place of many of the representatives of the great Alliance, including several German princes and the disaffected northern Powers who came thither to intrigue concerning the coming campaign. Königsmarck’s visit might possibly have had something of a diplomatic nature, but no hint of this appears in his letters. His relations with the Princess had continued in unbroken harmony, if we may judge from the little note he sent her on the eve of his leaving:—
“[HANOVER, undated.]
“I should deem myself all unworthy of your love were I to go away without assuring you how deeply I am sensible of your kindness. Yes, beautiful mouth, you love me, I doubt no longer, and my bliss is perfect. I start with that belief only.... The letter inclosed from Hamburg will show how things are going with my sister. I will write you more fully. I kiss your hands. I am all yours.”
The ensuing letters which he wrote to the Princess when on this journey explain themselves:—
“HAMBURG, _March 22_.
“I have reached here at last, after great trouble and danger, for about a league from Hanover my carriage broke down, and in crossing the Elbe I thought I should have been drowned. My servants had taken lodgings at the inn to which I usually come, and to crown all, I found that the Princess d’Otfrise[98] and the Duchess of Saxe-Eisenach were lodged there. I was greatly puzzled what to do, for they sent word for me to come and dine with them; but, my dear little heart, I remembered my promise to you, and determined to decamp. So I pretended that I had pressing and urgent business which compelled me to leave at once, and, without seeing them, I marched off and changed my quarters. But I did not leave the town, for I found my brother-in-law and sister[99] here. I gave my sister an exact account of all that had taken place since she left, and she did the same to me....
“To come to my story, they say I named you personally.[100] You know the rest. I need not justify myself to you; you know me too well. I am now trying to find the author of this underhand business. Should I unearth him, I will avenge myself in a way that will make others careful not to invent any more lies. My brother-in-law also has a little matter to settle. Some one said in his cups: ‘O, truly, when one has a sister-in-law who sleeps with a prince one can soon have regiments’.[101] They say that the author of this story is Lieutenant-Colonel Grot, or little Count Steinbock. We shall demand an explanation sword in hand, and see what they will say. I leave to-morrow for my estate. Farewell.”
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Footnote 98:
East Friesland. Colt sometimes calls her “Otfrise” too.
Footnote 99:
Count and Countess Lewenhaupt.
Footnote 100:
It is worthy of note that the same charge, boasting when he was in his cups, of his intimacy with the Princess was made against Königsmarck two years later (1694) at the court of Dresden.
Footnote 101:
This refers to Aurora von Königsmarck and the recent appointment of Count Lewenhaupt to a regiment of Celle.
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“_En Route._
“On dismounting here they gave me three of your letters. Picture my joy! I had begun to think that you had quite forgotten me. M. de Bielke has begged me to come to supper with him, but as some ladies with whom I used to flirt will be there, I am not going, for I want to have the satisfaction of swearing to you that all the time I am away I have not said sweet things to any woman whatsoever.... Do not write to me any more. Two of your letters have been sealed with another seal, and that makes me fear. I will show them to you.”
“_Monday evening at_ REINBEK.[102]
“As I again catch the post here I cannot let it go without writing, and I think this letter will reach you sooner than the one I sent this morning by my servant. Let us unite against those who would break us asunder; they will tire when they see our constancy. It is distraction to have no news from you and to be unable to hold you in my arms. I must arm myself with patience, little by little, for I am sore afraid that this summer I shall have to exercise myself greatly in that virtue. The postillion is on horseback. If I could be in his place I could see you by dinner-time, but as it is I cannot until after to-morrow. I am raging that old Time should lag so much. I spend every evening in miserable inns. Since I left Hanover I have only slept on straw; but (think of my impertinence!), uncomfortable though I was, every moment I wished you with me, without thinking that you would be uncomfortable too. If my desire had come to pass I should have pitied you; for you would often have been very badly off for a bed, and roughly lodged. Farewell. I shall die if I do not see you soon.”[103]
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Footnote 102:
Reinbek is a village close to Hamburg.
Footnote 103:
The letter concludes with many more expressions of devotion.
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On his return Königsmarck renewed his court to the Princess, with varying fortune as before.
Great military activity now prevailed at Hanover and Celle. The Duke of Hanover, satisfied that the electorate was to come soon, at last declared for the Allies. The diplomacy of William of Orange had triumphed all along the line. The Brunswick princes were sending troops to Flanders. Saxony had been bribed with a present of one hundred thousand rix-dollars and the promise of the Garter. Brandenburg had been conciliated; and, last and most difficult of all, Denmark and Sweden were appeased for awhile. But these negotiations lost time; and while the Allies were haggling and William conciliating Louis again took the field. In vain William tried to hasten his confederate princes; they were late as usual in sending troops. The French king started on his campaign, and his progress resembled a triumphal march. To gratify his love of display, Louis held a grand review near Mons, the scene of his triumph the previous year. The pageant over, he set forth to lay siege to Namur. Fully alive to the advantage gained by the French, King William made every effort to hurry his laggard allies, with the result that the troops of the several princes gradually took the field.
The troops of Celle and Hanover were to be commanded by Prince George Louis, and preparations at Hanover were pushed forward with all speed. Königsmarck was to go with his regiment; but to the astonishment of all he manifested no enthusiasm to serve in the campaign, and lingered until the eleventh hour. His letter to the Princess will explain his conduct. Knowing how she was spied upon, and doubtful of her strength and his, the Princess was afraid to risk a parting in private. He writes:—
“[HANOVER, _June_.]
“The reluctance you have shown to speak to me surprises me; nay, more, it makes me tremble. But I will still try to believe that you could not do otherwise without giving ground for suspicion. Yet one should risk something when it is a question of ‘Good-bye’ for six months.[104] I think so, for instead of going I linger here. See how much I love you! I neglect my duty, which calls me away for the rest of the year, though it is so urgent that I ought to go at once. But, my dear one, how can I leave without bidding you adieu? My love does not suffer me—I would rather die. I will not reproach you; I will keep silence and watch you at the games, for Madame la Princesse must play, apparently! I will go; but it must be from your lovely eyes that I learn my fate. If you do not like to _say_ ‘Good-bye,’ let me see it in your eyes,—they will give me light. Unless I cruelly deceive myself, I shall find much love in them. If I had sufficient self-control could I not have gone away—could I not have had orders so pressing that it would have been impossible for me to return, or perchance feigned an illness as an excuse for not bidding you farewell? Yet I am glad that you give me the opportunity of showing you how much stronger my love is than yours. I am truly your slave, and wear your chains with joy.”
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Footnote 104:
The Hanoverian troops were away about six months—June to late October.
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And again:—
“I cannot leave Hanover without writing to you, yet to write renews my grief. The torments of hell would not pain me more than distance and absence from you. How happy I should be if I could be as one of the least of your servants, to be near you, to hear your voice! I would willingly change my condition for the common sentinel, for at least I could stand under your windows and worship you from there. Alas! that cannot be; and since I am destined to suffer, assure me of your love and constancy. Adieu.”
At last Königsmarck tore himself away, and left Hanover for the camp, to march on the morrow to Flanders. At this point the Princess’s letters begin.