CHAPTER XIV.
THE PRINCESS’S LETTERS.
My letters! all dead paper, mute and white! ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.
I can but do as wills the spirit in me, Which is your spirit’s servant. Ah! my lord, My one love every way, my poor heart’s blood, Breath of my lips, and eyesight of mine eyes, How did I live the life that loved you not? SWINBURNE.
The Duke of Hanover, astute time-server that he was, must have doubted at first whether he had done wisely in again throwing in his lot with King William, for victory everywhere attended the arms of Louis. The French king made rapid progress with the siege of Namur, and on the eighth day the virgin fortress surrendered to his conquering army. The citadel fell three weeks later. This victory marked the summit of the great monarch’s glory. Te Deums were sung in all the churches of France, and his camp rang with shouts of triumph. But even in this hour of victory there came to Louis a reminder that he was not everywhere invincible; for while he lay before Namur, his priests chanting, his cannon blaring, sounds of rejoicing reached him from the camp of the Allies—rejoicings over the naval victory of La Hogue, wherein the English admiral, Russell, had utterly routed the French ships, and shattered for ever James II.’s chances of reascending the throne of England. The French king affected to treat this reverse lightly, and a short time after retired to Versailles, leaving Luxemburg, the first general of France, in command of the army.
William hastened towards Namur in the hope of bringing relief, but he was too late. Between him and the already fallen fortress lay the troops of Luxemburg. The grand army of the Allies then took up their headquarters at Lambeque, and William was sometimes there and sometimes at Brussels. About six miles from Lambeque, at Steinkirk, Luxemburg had encamped with the main body of the French army. Thus the two armies remained throughout July, almost within sight of one another; but the country between was full of hedges and ditches, and neither would make the attack. The delay gave William one advantage: it afforded time for the laggard troops of his German allies to come up.
The Hanoverian troops, commanded by Prince George Louis and accompanied by Prince Christian, fifth son of the Duke,[105] and with Königsmarck in command of a regiment of foot-guards, began their march to Flanders the first week in June. On the day they set out the Duke of Hanover, accompanied by Prince George Louis and the English envoy Colt, went to the camp and held a grand review.
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Footnote 105:
For whom the Duchess Sophia wished the command of an English regiment, which he did not get.
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The Duke of Hanover ordered a general thanksgiving to celebrate the victory of La Hogue and so testify his fidelity to the English king. To set the seal upon it, Colt gave a magnificent entertainment, a banquet and a ball. He writes:—
“The Duke and Duchess with all their courts have done me the honour to sup with me, when they and the greatest part of the city proclaimed their affection and good will to His Majesty.” And again: “My share in the affair [the general rejoicings] you will see at large in the paper apart [probably the bill] which I hope will be approved of. I have on this occasion given a greater diversion than ever they saw in this place.”[106]
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Footnote 106:
Colt’s _Despatches_, Hanover, June 20, 1692.
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Sophie Dorothea was present at Colt’s entertainment and took part in the festivities. Her husband, who went to Brockhausen after the review to take leave of the Duke of Celle, came back to Hanover on purpose to attend the celebrations, and a few days later he set out for Flanders. The Princess then left Hanover on a visit to her parents at Brockhausen; she remained there for some weeks. Prince Maximilian was also staying with the Duke of Celle, still in disgrace with his father, and urging his uncle to use his influence to save Moltke’s life. His prayers were unavailing. Moltke was executed at Hanover in the second week of July. and the court went to Luisburg—a country place of the Duke of Hanover, about twenty leagues distant—to be out of the way.
All this time, from the day of their parting, the Princess was in constant correspondence with Königsmarck, who was marching with his regiment to Flanders. He joined the grand army near Brussels about the middle of July, and his letters to the Princess were written from the camp and different halting-places on the line of march, while she wrote to him from Hanover and Brockhausen.
Whatever restraint Sophie Dorothea may have put upon herself in public converse with her lover, no trace of it appears in her letters. Believing that she was writing to him alone, she pours forth her soul in absolute abandonment. She gives herself to him so completely, so unreservedly, and withal so intimately, that one almost shrinks from laying bare this confession of woman’s love for man.
[Illustration:
FACSIMILE OF ONE OF SOPHIE DOROTHEA’S LETTERS TO KÖNIGSMARCK. _Photographed from the original manuscript in the University Library of Lund._ NOTE.—This letter is in the Princess’s own handwriting—not copied by Knesebeck. ]
_The Princess to Königsmarck._
“[HANOVER, undated.]
“I spent the stillness of the night without sleeping, and all the day thinking of you, weeping over our separation. Never did a day seem so long to me; I do not know how I shall ever get reconciled to your absence. La Gouvernante[107] has just given me your letter; I received it with rapture. Rest assured I will do even more than I have promised, and lose no opportunity of showing you my love. If I could shut myself up while you are away and see no one I would do so gladly, for without you everything is distasteful and wearisome. Nothing can make your absence bearable to me; I am faint with weeping. I hope to prove by my life that no woman has ever loved man as I love you, and no faithfulness will ever equal mine. In spite of every trial and all that may befall, nothing will sever me from you. Of a truth, dear one, my love will only end with my life.
“I was so changed and depressed to-day that even the Prince, my husband, pitied me, and said I was ill and ought to take care of myself. He is right,—I am ill; but my illness comes only from loving you, and I never wish to be cured. I have not seen any one worth mentioning. I went to visit the Duchess [Sophia] for a little while, but returned home as soon as possible, to have the joy of talking about you.[108] La Gazelle’s husband[109] came to wish me good-bye; I saw him in my chamber, and he kissed my hand.
“It is now eight o’clock, and I must go and pay my court. How dull I shall seem!—how stupid! I shall withdraw immediately after supper, so that I may have the pleasure of reading your letters again, the only pleasure I have while you are away. Farewell, my worshipped one. Only death will sever me from you; all human powers will never succeed. Remember all your promises, and be as constant as I will be faithful.”
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Footnote 107:
This must have been another name for the Fräulein von Knesebeck, _La Confidente_.
Footnote 108:
_I.e._, with _La Confidente_.
Footnote 109:
_La Gazelle_ may have been Countess Lewenhaupt (so called because of her gazelle-like eyes), whose husband was about to march with the Duke of Celle’s troops to Flanders.
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“[HANOVER,] _June_ 12, _Sunday_.
“I have no news of you; I am restless, in despair, full of sad forebodings. I cannot believe that you would willingly neglect me, you have so deeply convinced me of your faithfulness; but I love you too fondly to be free from the anxiety inseparable from such love. I am not getting reconciled to your absence; it is intolerable, and nothing can equal my grief at being so far from my adored one. I deluded myself with the hope that I might have seen you after the review; I could have done so in all liberty, as the Prince was away. That false hope made me keep vigil two nights at the window, and every one who passed I fancied was you. La Confidente kept telling me differently, but I would hear no reason.
“I must give you an account of my day. I retired after dinner. In the evening there was music, and I played a little,—that is all. You must be pleased with my conduct.... Do not forget your oaths, nor let absence lessen the love you swore to me, for I love you to madness, and the mere thought that you may forget is enough to upset my reason. Above all, be faithful to me, or I shall die. The Duchess to-day spoke much of your beauty and the regularity of your features. Alas! I fear me others will discover this comeliness too; it will cost me many tears.
“I must end this. It is three o’clock, and I must go to bed. Never doubt my fidelity; it is inviolable. I will live and die yours only.”
_Königsmarck to the Princess._
“[THE CAMP, undated.]
“You must let me complain, _ma chérie_, of the mean farewell you gave me. My love deserved something far different; but if you had a heart of ice you could not have given me a colder parting. I found the company very lively at the camp, every one sword in hand, prancing to the music of trumpets and kettledrums; but it all diverted me so little that I wished myself twenty leagues away. My dejection was so apparent that Monsieur Bielke[110] asked me what was the matter, and why I would not drink a glass of wine with him. I told him that I knew he was vexed about Aurora, and I was annoyed too, but I hoped he would not blame me in any way, as I knew nothing about it. He embraced me, and said he was sure I did not, but the pain she had caused him the last two days surpassed everything; and much more—too long to write—I will keep it for word of mouth. I will only add that he swore awful oaths that he would never speak to her again. The clinking of glasses, the noise of trumpets and kettledrums,[111] mingled with the softer sound of flutes and the hoarse cries of men drinking, made the drollest harmony in the world; but the revelry gave me opportunity to hide myself in a corner and dream at will. Whilst the others kissed, embraced, danced, stripped, and jumped on the tables, I thought only of my sad plight, and I found it so miserable that, in spite of all the festivity, tears sprang to my eyes and I was obliged to steal away to go to bed. Three hours of absence from you have grieved me so much that I am no longer master of my heart. I am so overcome with all these emotions that I have been beside myself all the evening.”
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Footnote 110:
“Count Bielke (a Swedish envoy), the most dangerous man in these parts ... full of French designs.”—_Vide_ Colt’s _Despatches_, June, 1692.
Footnote 111:
“According to that old Teutonic fashion with which Shakespeare has made his countrymen familiar, as often as any of the great princes proposed a health, the kettledrums and trumpets sounded.”—Macaulay’s _History of England_, vol. iv., p. 7.
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“[WHILE ON THE MARCH, undated.]
“In this unpleasant abode nothing could be so dear to me as your dear letter. I read it again and again; I know it by heart, word for word. It is charming and tender, and heals all jealous pains. Be as good as your word, or you will never see your lover alive again.
“I knew the Prince was not returning to Hanover after the review, and therefore determined to take the post to see you, but I was watched so closely by a spy of Countess Platen that I dared not risk it. The post-horses were ordered and ready, but I could not get rid of the man, who is named Mesbuck. You may imagine my rage, for I dreamed of the happiness of surprising you; but my plan miscarried. I have not had a happy moment except those your delightful letter gave me. I am an hour from Detmold. The Count sent a coach with six horses to meet me, and a message to say I would find very pleasant company at his house; but I excused myself on the ground that I was too tired. I did not tell him that love fatigued me. My major went to the party in my stead, and on his return told me all about the company, with whom he was greatly delighted. He praised the ladies to the skies. Meanwhile I had gone to bed to think over my sorrows. I found them piteous, and trembled to see myself near the brink of an abyss. But why should I worry you? I have told you so many times that I fear your inconstancy, and you have so often reassured me, that I am a fool to doubt; yet I always fear. Water falling drop by drop pierces the most stony heart, and I am sure you will listen to me. You will give me your heart. You must ward off evil at the beginning.
“In bidding farewell to us all, Marshal Podevils[112] spoke to me with much friendliness and sincerity (it was between us alone), and he said something which startled me greatly. He said he believed me to be a man capable of much dissimulation, and he feared I had dissembled with him. I was taken aback, and made him many protestations. He answered that he wished to believe me, and promised his friendship; but, in bidding good-bye, he again took me aside and said: ‘My dear friend, may God guard thee, but take this advice from me: do not let thy love ever hinder thee from thinking of thy fortune.’ I replied that contentment had more charms for me than ambition; but he turned away and answered nothing. He left me full of cruel suspicions. Try to find out what it is all about, I implore you. Aurora’s letters predict nothing good. Misfortune everywhere; but so long as one holds the loved one, what matters the price?”
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Footnote 112:
Field-Marshal Heinrich von Podevils is spoken of in this correspondence as _le bon ami_, the good friend of Königsmarck and Sophie Dorothea; and indeed he was so. Marshal Podevils was born in 1615 in Pomerania, and took service in the Thirty Years War. His military talent was first discovered by the famous Duke Bernard of Saxe-Weimar. At the death of the Duke, Podevils entered the French Army, and advanced rapidly in honour, and, because of his good services, he was naturalised in France. But Podevils was a Huguenot, and, in consequence of the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes, he left the French Army, and took service under Duke John Frederick of Hanover as Colonel-in-Chief of the Hanoverian Army. When Duke Ernest Augustus succeeded to the Duchy of Hanover he appointed Podevils successively General, Field-Marshal, President of the Council of War, and Governor of the Royal Palaces of Hanover. Podevils died at Hamburg in 1696, full of years and of honour. The fact that such a man was the true friend of Königsmarck, and thought highly of him, speaks much in Königsmarck’s favour.
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_The Princess to Königsmarck._
“[HANOVER,] _Monday_, 13.
“I have this moment received your letter—at last. I hungered for it; I was sick with sadness. Nothing now gives me joy but the token that you remember me: I am sensitive to that—all else is indifferent. _Grand Dieu!_ what happiness it would have been if you could have come back! I think I should have died of very joy. But, alas! it was not to be....[113] This is not the only grief Countess Platen will cause me; I believe all my troubles will come through her. What our good friend Marshal Podevils said to you doesn’t make me anxious; it concerns me, it is true, but he is an open and honest man, and we have nothing to fear from that quarter. I am indeed grateful that you refused the invitation to join the company at Detmold. It is charming that you should think of me; I pray you continue to do so, and be sure I am not unworthy. My one thought is how to please you, and I shall succeed. I am in despair that Aurora has not....”[114]
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Footnote 113:
Some lines are missing here.
Footnote 114:
The letter is torn off here. Doubtless the Princess is beginning to allude to Aurora’s intrigue with Count Bielke, mentioned in Königsmarck’s letter.
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_Königsmarck to the Princess._
“IN THE COUNTRY OF TEGLENBURG, [_June_] 8.
“I should feel that I had committed a mortal sin were I to miss a place where the post passes without assuring you of my very humble obedience, though I can tell you of nothing but my love, and how little life has for me when I am away from your sweet self. The farther I am from you, the more I adore you. I fret night and day without finding any comfort. Sometimes I wish the French would be beaten, for then there would be a ray of hope that I should see you again, because the King[115] would not require me; sometimes I wish myself dead, since I have to live without seeing you. In this way am I agitated day and night, without any hope of relief. What will become of me, dear one, should my love drive me to madness? Comfort me in my sad estate, and reassure me that I shall see you again—the most gracious lady in the universe, the most constant, and the most faithful. But I desire a constancy without any reproaches or any coquetry.
“I dined at Monsieur Bussche’s[116] yesterday; the company was not very choice—only some flighty people, so lively that they disgusted me in my sad mood. Madame, his wife, dined with us. She is the best woman in the world. I don’t know if you are well acquainted with her; she is extremely thin, her age is fifty, but she is very witty, and her conversation pleased me the more because it ran mainly on morality and devotion. I certainly go in for the latter. I pray always that my passion may not become fatal to me, and God may keep you constant and make you an example to all your sex. I commend you to the Divine protection to keep you straight, so that I may never be tortured by thinking you behave badly. I hope to receive some of your letters from Wesel.”
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Footnote 115:
King William III. of England, commanding the allied armies.
Footnote 116:
This Bussche must not be confounded with Bussche who married Catherine Meisenbug (sister of Countess Platen), sometime the mistress of Prince George Louis. That Bussche died in 1688, and, as we have seen, his widow subsequently married General Weyhe. The Bussche above mentioned was a kinsman. He was subsequently president of the court which divorced the Princess Sophie Dorothea from the Electoral Prince.
A little later we find Colt also writing: “They have sent Monsieur Bussche, one of their privy councillors, to the Elector of Brandenburg, to press him to a speedy compliance with his former promise.”—Colt’s _Despatches_, Hanover, June 26, 1692.
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_The Princess to Königsmarck._
“[HANOVER,] _Monday_, 20.
“At my awakening they gave me your letter. I found it charming, loving, and all I would have it to be. Continue to feel as you write, for if you change I will not live. When I think each step you take removes you farther from me, I despair. Thousands of times I have thought of following you. What would I not sacrifice to be always with you! Alas! I should be too happy; there is no such perfect joy in this world. I avoid all men, and speak only to women: pray do not thank me for this, for I am pleased to do it. I never leave my chamber. I start to-morrow,[117] and go this evening to bid farewell to the Duchess. Prince Ernest is going to visit the Electress of Brandenburg, and perhaps they will return together.
“If I were to tell you all I feel and how vast is my love, I should never end; it is beyond all I can find words to tell, and I should count myself happy indeed were your love to equal mine. I will not preach to you to be faithful to me, it would be unavailing; but I shall die if you are not. I have told you thousands of times that all the peace of my life depends on your fidelity. You may find others more lovable, but never one so loving; your slightest wish will be always law to me. But why should you change? You are loved to idolatry—your heart is sound. Farewell, _cher enfant_. You will be for ever loved.”
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Footnote 117:
For Brockhausen.
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The next day the Princess left Hanover for Brockhausen on a visit to her parents. Colt mentions in his despatch of June 17 the fact that the Duke of Celle was staying at Brockhausen, thus corroborating the Princess’s letters, which are written from there after the 20th.
“BROCKHAUSEN [undated].
“The only joy left me now is assuring you of my unalterable devotion: my love grows daily. I am glad to be in this quiet place, for it gives me more time to think of you: my mind is full of you only. My father and mother often speak to me, but I don’t hear them, for my heart and my thoughts are far away—with you. I have not had a moment’s happiness since you left; and when I think it will be four or five months before we can meet again, I fall into a melancholy I cannot hide. Sad forebodings crowd in upon me; I fear they will separate us for ever, or put obstacles in the way of our happiness. I see myself on the edge of a precipice (as indeed I am). If you saw my sad state you would pity me.
“You may be easy about my conduct; nothing on that account need ruffle your quiet or trouble your rest. To-day, for instance, scarcely was I dressed than I had to dine. Afterwards I went to see my mother for a little while, and then she sent me home.[118] Max[119] escorted me. I left him in the antechamber; I did not stop a moment. He is more stupid than ever; he was quite confused. My father came to see me and showed me many attentions. I played with Chauvet.[120] We supped, and then I retired, without staying to talk to any one. Good-night; I must to bed. Alas! what sad nights since you left me! When I think of the joys we shared together and my loneliness now, a great pang goes through me. Be true, dear one,—all the happiness of my life hangs on it. I live only for you.”
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Footnote 118:
The Duke of Celle’s hunting-box at Brockhausen was very small, and, as the accommodation was insufficient, the Princess and her suite were lodged in a house hard by.
Footnote 119:
Prince Max was staying with the Duke of Celle for a time, who was trying to talk him to reason (_vide_ Colt’s despatches). The Princess’s estimate of Prince Max’s character agreed in the main with that of Colt, who, speaking of his share in the Moltke plot, says: “Nor indeed was his [Prince Max’s own capacity very fit for it, though he is a very worthy gentleman, and much improved since he hath been at home these two years, having before lost his time by being too much delighted with the pleasures of Venice, where he had been in service five years.”
Footnote 120:
Marshal Jeremiah Chauvet was one of the Frenchmen whom the Duchess Eléonore brought in her train to the court of Celle. He was not of noble birth, but the son of a blacksmith in Lorraine. In 1670 the Duke of Celle advanced him to the rank of colonel, and he became successively major-general, general, and field-marshal.
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“BROCKHAUSEN, _June_ 25/_July_ 5.
“I hoped to have had news of you from Wesel, and am much cast down because none came. I attribute it to the carelessness of your servants at Hanover, for I scarcely think you would neglect me: at least, let me flatter myself to that extent; it is the only consolation I have left. When I think you love me I forget all the disasters which threaten—but I shall worry you with my fears. My father and mother overwhelm me with kindness, and, most reassuring, they have not mentioned your name since I came here. I am rather surprised at this, but I hope they are satisfied with what I told them before.
“I heard yesterday of the death of La Court’s[121] brother. It was a shock, for I thought of you. Like you, he was young, he was well, yet now he is dead. You cannot imagine my sad reflections: I fear for you more than ever. If you truly love me, be careful of yourself for my sake; for if anything happened to you, what would become of me? I would not stay a moment in this world; life would be impossible. As it is, since you went away, I lead only a lingering life; but I look forward to seeing you again, and that hope brings consolation. What would be left if I lost it? But I will not fret myself with these sad thoughts; all my prayers and desires are for your safety. Day and night, night and day, the good God is troubled with the prayers I offer Him for you. If you but knew how intense is my love you would pity me; it increases every moment, absence does not lessen it. Without change or swerving I love you, and everything that touches you, so tenderly, so perfectly, so _delicately_, that imagination fails to tell.
“I take a positive delight in avoiding persons. My parents and Bernstorff are pleased. They think I shun every one because I wish to be with them; they little know it is because of you—that I may show you my devotion and my love. They talk of going to Wiesbaden. My mother wishes it, as her health is very indifferent, and my father thinks of going too, and they want me to go with them. Let me know if you approve. If you do not, they will find it difficult to make me go; but as long as I please you the rest counts for nothing.”
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Footnote 121:
Probably some court lady at Hanover.
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_Königsmarck to the Princess._
“BORGUEM _on the_ 16_th_ [_June_].
“My courier has brought me a packet of letters without any from you; it is incredible. The post goes by again to-morrow, and if I get none it will nearly kill me. I hope my correspondent has sent them to Antwerp. I have written to the Widow Goodsblut; but if it turn out that she has none either I shall die of grief. Have you forgotten the man who worships you in the space of a fortnight? I shall wait eight days, and then, if I hear nothing, I shall know you love me no longer, and I will hasten to the grand army (as soon as I know from Antwerp) and seek a glorious death. Then you can boast that your unfaithfulness has killed me. But first tell the world the promises you vowed to me, and let that theatre judge if I were wrong in seeking death. Can it be that God has made such a charming woman with so little fidelity? I am like a man on whom sentence of death has been passed and who is waiting for the hour of his execution. I hardly feel as if I were alive. My mind is so troubled that I can scarcely finish this page. Farewell, perhaps for ever!
“I am three leagues from Wesel. The post goes by again without any letter from you. Cruel one! is it possible that you have such a traitor’s heart, and forget me so soon?”
_The Princess to Königsmarck._
“BROCKHAUSEN, _June_ 27/_July_ 7.
“I do not deserve your reproaches; I shall never deserve them. I cannot imagine why you accuse me of negligence, for even if you do not receive my letters you ought to know me well enough not to lay the blame on me. The fault is not mine, I assure you. Is it possible you mean all you say? You occupy my heart solely and entirely; all the rest is of so little account that I do not give it a thought. I have written with all possible regularity; if I could have written oftener I would have done so gladly, for my only pleasure is to make you remember me and assure you of my love and faithfulness. But this place [Brockhausen] is so far from every means of communication that it greatly delays the joy of receiving your letters, and the same reason, I fear, may lead to your receiving mine very irregularly; besides, the floods are so great that the couriers cannot pass, and so they are obliged to remain here all the week. I spend the whole day with my mother, who talks to me of the danger of abandoning one’s self to one’s _penchant_. I say ‘Amen’ to it all, and so get on well with her, and all of them.
“I have a thousand fears about you. Chauvet told me yesterday that according to all appearances there might be a battle to-day. You know how I love you. Imagine, then, my state of mind when I think that the only being I care for in the world, for whom only I live, is exposed to thousands of dangers. If you love me, take care of yourself; I should die if any accident were to happen to you. I am leading the saddest life imaginable. The more change I have the more I find that cure is useless, for everywhere I carry my love and my sorrow. The burden is no easier for me in this peaceful place. I see no end to my worries, and the time I have to get through without you seems an eternity. But what joy when I see you again! It will be impossible for me to moderate my transports; I fear everybody will see how much I love you. It matters little, for you are worthy, and I never can love you enough.”
_Königsmarck to the Princess._
“VENLO, _July_ 1/11, 1692.
“It is true, then, that you have forgotten me, and the pleasures of the comedy, the music, and, what is worse, the foreigners,[122] are the cause of your forgetfulness? I know it from Monsieur le Prince,[123] with whom I dined to-day. I suppose this is the way to love; but I, alas! cannot. I have neglected everything since I left you; I have even forgotten to shave, and I went all unkempt to the court quarter of the camp. Everybody stared. Even the Prince asked me what was the matter, for he found me so haggard and worn. I pretended that I had the colic; he little knew the truth. Until now I only feared that you had forgotten me; but since I know that the Piedmontese Count and the Austrian have arrived, I no longer doubt your inconstancy. Cruel one! I know my rivals. Yes, I know them, and that is sufficient. But you have to deal with a man who loves you to distraction, and you made me believe you loved me in the same way. I have neglected fortune, happiness, everything for you, and you treat me like this! It is abominable. I will avenge myself and die. Yes, I will avenge myself in such a way that the whole world will ring with my wrongs. You wished to remain in your chamber to bewail my departure. Your chamber became the opera house, your weeping came from laughing overmuch, and your consolation, instead of reading my letters, as you told me, was in hearing sweet things from others. It is too much. I can bear no more. You drive me to extremities. I will join the Elector of Bavaria’s service, and then seek those who have stolen from me your ungrateful heart.”
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Footnote 122:
They were probably special envoys, who had come to Hanover on business connected with the campaign against the Turks in the Morea, the intrigues concerning the Electorate, and other matters. Colt mentions that a Baron Eck came to the court of Hanover in June from the Elector of Saxony, and also a Baron Hasfelt “on his way to France”.
Footnote 123:
Prince George Louis, who had now joined the troops.
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“VENLO, 1/11.
“I am sighing and trembling while I write this to you. I have no idea how I stand with you, for I have received only one of your letters. I am cursing my bad luck, but, alas! that does not give me comfort in my misery.[124]... No, by Heaven! I will not lose you! I will move heaven and earth before I give you up. Were you to change yourself into Jupiter I would not fear the thunderbolt, but would try to avenge myself on my rivals. I could not get leave to go to the grand army, so I must wait until our troops march. It is annoying; but I bear all with patience.
“My sister would like to know if the court is going in the autumn to some baths, as she would greatly like to go to pay her respects to Madame la Princesse. La Confidente says nothing about the unfaithfulness of her good mistress, but that is only natural, for if I cannot trust you, neither can I trust the people about you. But you know well that God will punish you; there is nothing so certain as that. Take heed therefore and beware.”
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Footnote 124:
Here follow pages of reproaches and upbraidings.
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_The Princess to Königsmarck._
“BROCKHAUSEN, _June_ 30/_July_ 10.
“Two of your letters reached me to-day, but instead of finding them full of love, I found reproaches which I do not deserve nor shall ever deserve. I cannot tell you my surprise at the tone of your letters. I have done absolutely nothing since you left. I shall never do anything all my life except what will be agreeable to you, for my one desire is to make manifest the love I bear you. My constancy is without flaw, and I am far from being the coquette you so unjustly call me. I could not help bursting into tears when I read all the hard things you wrote. What right or cause have I given you to have such a bad opinion of me? Is it because I love you to adoration, because I neglect all the friends I have in the world, because I have not heeded the lectures and preachments of my parents, nor thought of all the misfortunes that may come upon me through this? I cannot express to you my grief. You hint at my pleasing people who may supplant you in my affections; they assuredly do not deserve the honour you do them, and I am ashamed to have to excuse myself on their account. I spoke very little to the Piedmontese Count, and not a word to the Austrian. I wrote to you very precisely about everything I have done and everything I am prepared to do for you. I have sworn all the vows you wished, to convince you thoroughly of my good faith. Nothing will make me change. I love you far above what I can tell you, even when you give me cause to repent. Yet you will attach yourself to the Elector of Bavaria, you will forsake me, and all for a suspicion that has not the least appearance of reason! Is this loving? Do you love me still, or are you only seeking a pretext to leave me? If you still have doubts it will be very easy for me to clear them away, for I have taken no step nor done anything whereof my conscience is afraid. I will gladly swear thousands of dreadful oaths to you on my innocence. I shall have no peace until I know how I stand with you. If the tenderest love and the most inviolable faithfulness will satisfy you, you may be satisfied, for no love was ever so sincere as the love I bear for you.”
_Königsmarck to the Princess._
“FOUR LEAGUES FROM VENLO, 5/15.
“The lieutenant who went to the court quarter of the camp brought me a large bundle of letters. I was in highest joy, thinking surely I should find some from you; but I was deceived, for I found nothing except letters from Prince Ernest and from Marshal Podevils. Every one is writing but you. I have reproached you so much that I will say no more, except that you have been dancing at Colt’s _fête_.[125] I will, however, wait for your letters from Antwerp, which I hope will clear up everything. But you cannot excuse your behaviour at Hanover, especially when the foreigners were there; and whatever the Duke might have wished you to do, you ought not to have consented. This will be the very last letter I shall write to you if I hear nothing from you.”
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Footnote 125:
Colt’s _fête_ was given on Sunday, June 18.
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_The Princess to Königsmarck._
“BROCKHAUSEN [undated (? _July_ 2)].
“I suffer agony, and can no longer bear the pain your unjust suspicions cause me. You told me yourself to write only once to Wesel, and all my other letters have gone to Antwerp. You ought, however, to have received some of them. I know not to whom to attribute this carelessness, but you are greatly in the wrong if you believe that I have forgotten you. Time will prove my innocence and your injustice. I am hurt to the quick, for since your departure my only thought has been how best to show you my fidelity. I am grieved that you are displeased because I went to Monsieur Colt’s _fête_, but I could not avoid going, they pressed me so much. The foreigners did not detain me at Hanover; they left a few days before I came to Brockhausen; I have already told you I did not talk to them. I am incapable of deceiving you, even in thought; I love you too passionately. Yet you believe I betray you. You will not write to me. You plunge me in despair. How do I know? What if some one has held back my letters to make us quarrel? I have thousands of evil forebodings and many fears, but you cap them all and overwhelm me with grief by believing me guilty. Ought it even to enter your mind that I should fail in the love I bear you? I would rather fail to myself, for you are a thousand times dearer to me.
“Unfortunately the floods still detain us here.[126] I am grieved because of my letters. We may be here for a week, perhaps.”
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Footnote 126:
“The extraordinary floods have kept the Duke from Celle.”—Colt’s _Despatches_, July 4, 1692.
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“BROCKHAUSEN, _July_ 7.
“We start to-morrow for Celle, where I hope to find some letters from you; I am in sore need of them to deliver me from this anxiety. I have not a moment of peace. I am trembling for fear we are betrayed; but what I fear most of all is your violent temper, which will not let you reflect in the least, nor give a thought without at once believing me guilty. This suspense is driving me mad. To-morrow I shall know what to expect. If I find nothing I am lost. Good-bye.”