CHAPTER XV.
DOUBTS AND FEARS.
Ah, Love, but a day, And the world has changed! The sun’s away And the bird estranged. BROWNING, _James Lee’s Wife_.
The floods having abated, the court of Celle left Brockhausen and returned to Celle. The Princess accompanied her parents and continued to stay with them. She feared at one time she might have to join the Hanoverian court at Luisburg; but instead she remained at Celle, and made preparations for a long visit to Wiesbaden with her mother. On arriving at Celle she writes to Königsmarck:—
“CELLE, _July_ 9.
“I was burning with impatience to get here,[127] for I hoped to find your letters. Alas! there were none, and I spent a night of tears. Again I hoped to receive one this morning. My hope was vain, and for the last eight days, ever since you wrote me that cruel letter, I fear that we are betrayed. I am trembling on the edge of a precipice, but my own danger is the least of my anxieties. I scarcely think of the misfortunes, inevitable and unavoidable, which surely await me if discovered: you, only, occupy my thoughts. More than death or disgrace I fear that you may leave me; if you do, there is no more happiness for me. You are all my life, and if I lose you, nothing in the world will console me. I shall not have a moment of peace until my fears are set at rest.
“I received a letter from your sister[128] this morning saying that you had written her a violent letter about me, and she had a good mind to send it on. I wish she had; at least, I should have seen what you thought of me. She tells me also that if my parents go to the baths at Aix, she will go there with her sister.[129] At present they speak only of Ems or Wiesbaden, but it amounts to the same thing. I have already asked whether you approve of my going on that journey. Le Satyre[130] is here. He tells me that a little while before the discreet Prince’s departure, some woman asked His Highness whether he did not wish to fight you because you got on so well with me, whereas he seemed to be on bad terms with me for a long time past. It is not difficult to guess who asked this question![131] I have a continual palpitation of the heart, which I attribute to my anxiety the last few days. You make me suffer, but I suffer gladly for your dear sake.”
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Footnote 127:
“The Duke, since his return hither ...”—Colt’s _Despatches_, Celle, July 11, 1692.
Footnote 128:
Aurora von Königsmarck.
Footnote 129:
Countess von Lewenhaupt.
Footnote 130:
Some Hanoverian courtier.
Footnote 131:
(?) The Countess Platen.
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“CELLE, _July_ 15/25.
“I shall know my fate to-morrow; I am waiting for it with such anxiety that I cannot sleep. I feel sure that if you had received my letters you would not have missed two posts without a line, unless indeed you take pleasure in bringing me to despair. Everything tends to confirm my fears that we are betrayed. If Countess Platen begins to meddle you may imagine what there is to dread, but I tremble most at your own violence. You say you will enlist in some other service, and I shall see you no more. The thing may already be done for aught I know. I am terribly depressed; it may be a foreboding of misfortunes to come. All I can say is, that if it costs you so little to give me up, you have a very feeble love after all. When the heart is deeply touched one does not give up the loved one so easily; at least, one takes the trouble to examine thoroughly the charges against her. But I cannot expect you to have the patience to do that; I know your ways too well. At the first hint you will break away altogether: perhaps, later, thoughts and reflections will follow; but it will be too late then, and I shall have the grief of loving you to adoration, and knowing all the while that you have never truly loved me. The thought is so maddening that it nearly turns my brain. Farewell. You will be the cause of all my misery in the same way as you have been the source of all my happiness; but I love you—_Mon Dieu!_ how I love you!”
[Illustration:
SOPHIE DOROTHEA. _From a painting formerly at Ahlden, now at Herrenhausen_. ]
_Königsmarck to the Princess._
“NEAR DIST, _July_ 5/15.
“At last I have been so happy as to receive two of your letters, and as one is dated Monday, the 13th, and the other the 16th, I don’t think there are any missing. But you tell me in one that you spoke in the preceding letter of the foreigners at Hanover. I have not seen that yet. The last came from Antwerp, on which was all my hope. I received them in a packet—two letters, as I notify above; but what makes me uneasy is that they have been sealed with a wafer and not with your usual seal. I beg you tell me the reason, for it makes me most anxious. A funny thing has happened. I wrote to Prince Ernest joking about many ladies of our court; I also spoke about Madame la Princesse, but in such terms as respect commands. I sent the letters to the commissary, to forward to Hanover. A certain adjutant happened to see the man carrying the letters, looked at the top of them, and as he found one addressed to ‘Monsieur le Prince’ he looked no farther, but took the whole bundle to our general,[132] who, without looking at the superscription, opened it, but seeing it was written in terms of great friendship, he only read, he says, the beginning, and sent it back to me, sealed by Lenner, who swore to me that the Prince did not read it all through. The harm would not have been very great, except that I spoke of La Platen and Schwartzen and La Schulenburg[133] a little lightly. Your story about those two made me laugh as much as my sadness would allow,[134] but I cannot forget the stay you made at Hanover when the foreigners were there. At any other time I should have forgiven you, but as it is I know not what to say.
“The day before yesterday I had a long conversation with my colonel’s wife in the Capuchins’ garden, where I was taking a solitary walk. She came up with her husband and several officers, and took upon herself to chaff me about my beard. Then she went on to say she pitied me because I was so unlucky, and another man was more successful. I pressed her to tell me whom she thought I loved. She would not tell me positively, but she let me know enough to be sure she meant you. I urged her to tell me the name of the happy man; I did not want to know the name of the lady, only the cavalier, but she refused. I begged of her to tell me where she got her information. She said nothing definite, but enough to make me guess she got it from Madohr. You cannot think what an impression it has made on my mind. I tell you frankly that unless you cure me of my new and just suspicions I shall never return to you. It will be hard for me; I shall not be able to survive it. But it is better to die than to live without being loved.... In finishing my letter I took up yours again to look for a little comfort. I found some; but as you only give me an account of the 13th, and as the Prince went on the 6th,[135] I want to know what you were doing the other days. Apparently the foreigners were at Hanover, for the Duchess took you to the comedy on the 13th, a sure sign that the foreigners were there, otherwise the comedy would not have been played. On the 15th the little man[136] went. You kept your room, but not on the 16th, 17th, 18th, and 19th. What was the day of the _fête_?[137] There were three days you might have kept indoors, for the Prince’s departure was a good pretext; but the desire to be seen by the foreigners made you forget all your promises. You cared nothing about the Prince’s departure nor for mine; both must have been very welcome to you.... You tell me in your letter, ‘let us love one another for ever’. Did you really think about what you were writing? At that very time I believe your mind was full of pleasing Monsieur le Rittermeister.[138] No doubt he told you that he had come from the wilds of Turkey to admire your beauty, of which he had heard the Turks speak when he was a prisoner amongst them. He charmed you, for that sort of flattery is sure to please a woman, and you doubtless believed he was telling you the truth; but he only came to Hanover to pick up a few hundred ducats to set up his ruined equipage again before Grossvardein. I tell you that I cannot speak of the man without my blood boiling. I may suspect you wrongly, but appearances are against you. I have suffered torments for weeks from not having received your letters. Your departure from Hanover did not take place when you said; I knew from the first that the foreigners were there. You go to the comedy, the festival, and the music, notwithstanding that you had a good pretext to remain in your rooms; and, above all, I know that you talked with that Count. That is the foundation for my suspicions.”
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Footnote 132:
Prince George Louis, commanding the Hanoverian troops.
Footnote 133:
Ermengarda Melusina von Schulenburg, afterwards Duchess of Kendal, mistress of the Prince of Hanover.
Footnote 134:
This must refer to something in a missing letter.
Footnote 135:
_I.e._, to Brockhausen after the review, which was held on June 6, and, as we have seen, he did not return to Hanover for some days.
Footnote 136:
“The little man”—the Prince, who set forth for Flanders on the 15th (25th).
Footnote 137:
Colt’s party and the public rejoicings to celebrate the victory of La Hogue.
Footnote 138:
A nickname for one of the “foreigners”.
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_The Princess to Königsmarck._
“CELLE, _July_ 13/23.
“This morning I have received a letter from you—at last. I cannot describe my misery and suspense the last twelve days; now nothing can equal my joy. Though you reproach me so bitterly, and though you suspect me, it is so easy to justify myself that I am not in the least anxious. My anxiety is lost in the fact that you are unchanged; and I find charm and tenderness in all you say. I implore you remain in this mood, and rest assured that I would rather die a thousand deaths than do anything to displease you. I appreciate your sensitive tenderness. I can assure you that all the actions of my life will bear witness to the love I have for you. I am surprised that you still write about the foreigners. I wrote to you every day everything I did—I forgot no detail; but you mix up my narrative so much that I must endeavour to make clear all the points which puzzle you, and again relate everything. The Prince went to Brockhausen after the review. He returned to Hanover the Friday following. On Saturday he and the Duke paid me a visit according to custom, and the same day the Count who vexes you so much put in an appearance. It is true I played in the evening, but I only spoke to him at the dinner-table, and that very little. The next day was Sunday. After dinner there was music. I appeared rather late. I played cards, as usual, and I spoke a few words to the Count as he was looking on at the game. On Monday the Prince and the Duke went back.[139] The Duke was to have come for the comedy, but the Duchess came alone to it, and afterwards she went back. I am ready to make any vow you like that I had not the least flirtation with the Count, nor had I the wish or thought to talk to him. The day he took his leave I was passing through the antechamber of the Duchess’s apartments, but I did not pause a moment; I went home directly. He went away the next day (Tuesday). On Wednesday I did not leave my chamber, as the Prince left. I did not appear either on Thursday or Friday. I saw no one for four days except my women. On the Saturday, when the Prince and the Duke came, I had to show myself; and on Sunday was the festival of which I have told you so much already that I have no more to say. On Monday I took leave of the Duchess. On Tuesday I went home.[140] I am glad my memory is better than yours, for, were it to fail, you are just the man to pick a quarrel about nothing. I should have a rough time of it; but carping as you are, I defy you to find fault with my conduct, for it is irreproachable, and my love passes words. You must surely see from all I have just told you that it was not for the Count’s _beaux yeux_ I lingered [at Hanover]. I am ashamed to be compelled to justify myself concerning him. Neither he nor any man in the world could make me take any step displeasing to you. I know, alas! your sensitiveness on these matters. Your suspicions and accusations of coquetry drive me to despair. I have renounced such arts for ever, and in giving myself to you, I think only how best to please you: all my wishes are bounded there.
“It is hard to excuse you for your injustice, except on the ground of the silly things your colonel’s wife told you. Have I made any impression on your mind? You remember, I told you a thousand times that my enemies would spare no effort to part us, and begged you urgently not to listen to their tales. However, ask the woman to give you the name of the cavalier, so that I may see how far her audacity goes. Were I at Hanover people might tell me the same things about you, but I should not so readily believe them, for I trust you, and your promises. Believe me, my heart is safe in your keeping. When you think of your merits and of my love you ought to have no uneasiness; I belong so truly to you that death alone can part us. The last twelve days I have known, alas! the extent of my tenderness too well to believe any one ever loved so strongly as I love you. I had no doubt that I was betrayed, and the Countess Platen had meddled; but though I was in danger of being lost for ever, I vow I never even thought about it, for you alone made me anxious. I feared to lose you; I trembled lest on the impulse of the moment you would enlist in the service of the Elector of Bavaria, and I should see you no more! But I am far different to-day: my joy is now so great that I cannot hide it. Why am I so far from you? What joy to be with you, to prove by my caresses how I love and worship you. In God’s name, believe me, and put away anything which might make you doubt. Above all, do not heed the silly tales you may hear. We have any number of people to fear; therefore let us be on our guard. Be unto me as I am to you. If you remember, you once said you would give up war and live for me alone, but I fear you have already forgotten it. If my blood were wanted to ransom you from danger I would give it gladly, for I cannot exist without seeing you. I lead a lingering life. I have not really _lived_ a moment since you left; only your dear letters give me a gleam of gladness. I think of all the joys we had together, and then on my weariness and loneliness to-day. What a difference! When will that delightful time return?
“The siege of Namur[141] makes me tremble. Take care of yourself, and remember that my life is linked with yours. Ah! my dear one, why am I not with you in the battle? I would gladly die by your side. Once more, good-bye. My love is inexhaustible; I belong to you a thousand times more than to myself.
“I got into bed when I had finished this and was reading your dear letters. I thought myself safe because I had given out that I was asleep; but to my surprise my mother came to wish me good-night a second time. All La Confidente could do was to hide the letters under the quilt. I scarcely dared move for fear the paper might rustle; but at last my mother went away, to my great relief, for I was terribly afraid. I dislike all these surprises, but it is impossible to avoid them.”
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Footnote 139:
Perhaps to Herrenhausen.
Footnote 140:
_I.e._, went to her parents at Brockhausen. It is noteworthy that Hanover is not “home” to her.
Footnote 141:
Namur was besieged throughout the first weeks of June. The citadel fell about June 21.
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“CELLE, _July_ 18/28.
“I cannot employ my time better than in writing to you; it gives me such delight that I could spend whole days at it, though nothing happens here except the same smooth, uneventful round. But my love is inexhaustible, and of itself would give me enough to entertain you; though to tell you the truth I am sad at having received no news of you. I fear you have found some more agreeable occupation than thinking of me. I do all I can to drive away such thoughts, but I love you too fervently to be easy, and you are altogether too fascinating for women to leave you alone. They will do their best to estrange you from me. Resist their allurements, I implore you, and come back to me as tender as when we parted. The memory of all that has taken place between us forms my only joy now; indeed, I wish for no other while you are absent.
“They say the Electress of Brandenburg is at Luisburg.[142] If so I shall be unable to avoid going there. I am much vexed about it, for I shall have to be always with her, when my only pleasure is to be alone, thinking of you. I am dying to see you with your beard. I would give my blood to be two hours with you. But, dear God! I must not think of it; that is what distresses me. Never leave me again, but let us look forward to that happy future when we shall be parted no more. I would rather brave everything than live without you. Oh, my love, my love! all the misfortunes of the world, all the blame, all the shame, are not half so dreadful to contemplate as separation from you!”
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Footnote 142:
“Moltke was executed on Monday, and the court has gone to Luisburg to be out of the way.”—Colt’s _Despatches_, Hanover, July 18, 1692. The Electress changed her mind.
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“CELLE, _July_ 20/30.
“I do not know what construction to put upon your silence; I cannot imagine the reason. To-day I have received another letter from the Prince: I am piqued to notice that he is more regular in writing than you. What has become of your eagerness? Does the Brussels air inspire you with coldness? Has a new passion entirely effaced me from your memory? I cannot reassure myself. You have no good excuse for your neglect, for while you are with the army you can write at any moment, but you do not. Had you not received any of my letters, and had I not received any of yours, I might think that knavish tricks are being played; but as that is not so, I cannot delude myself any longer. I have written to you so regularly that you must surely see my only pleasure lies in assuring you of my love and fidelity. You reply so irregularly that I fear I weary you; pray don’t force yourself to write to me unless you can do so with a good heart. No doubt you have pleasanter occupations, and I would not be so unkind as to take you away from them. I wish your inclination to govern all your actions, but I cannot suit myself to everything you do for the mere sake of decorum. I confess I am piqued, very much so, at your indifference. I try to excuse you as much as possible, but I cannot find any solution of the riddle. I have never been wounded so sensibly before. But, believe me, however much I have reason to be dissatisfied, however much I may become indifferent to you, I will not fail in anything I have promised. Pray let me know if you consent to my going to Wiesbaden. The journey is almost decided. My mother wishes it extremely, and she is writing to-morrow to the Prince to ask his permission for me to go. I entreat you, write as soon as you possibly can. What you wish shall be done. Farewell.
“I wanted to finish thus, but I have not the strength. I take up my pen again to beg you to come back to me. Without you I cannot live; I will expose myself to everything rather than lose you. See how low you bring me! I am forced to believe you guilty, however much I wish to think you innocent. Yet I write thus.”
“CELLE, _July_ 25/_August_ 4.
“This is the third post and still no letter! Surely so tender a lover as you always seemed to be cannot have wholly forgotten me—or are we betrayed? It positively must be one thing or the other. The suspense is so acute that I have not a moment’s peace. But my great fear is that you have changed. I think of nothing else, nor of all that may happen to me. Is it possible that you have forgotten your vows of eternal fidelity? I strive to drive away my sad thoughts, but I am in such abject melancholy that I fear it is a foreboding of misfortune. If you love me no longer I shall never be comforted. But what is the use of telling you that? You know it, and perhaps the knowledge has not prevented you from becoming unfaithful. Why do you force me by your silence to believe the worst? I have not deserved this coldness, for none ever loved so tenderly before. If I receive no letter from you by the next post I shall no longer be able to doubt. What pleasure can you find in grieving me thus? What have I done to be treated in this way? Is it because I love you to madness and am faithful to you with a faithfulness that nothing will ever equal? I have not the strength to say more, for I am writing perchance to an ungrateful being, and the thought is death. Farewell. If no letters come by the first post I shall risk sending a note by Lenner, for if there should be treachery I fear that you have received none of mine. I send you this by the postmaster here.”
_Fräulein von Knesebeck to Königsmarck._
“_Mon Dieu!_ what does it mean? Why do the letters miscarry so? I would give much to know the reason. Her Highness fears that you have become unfaithful, and though I keep telling her the contrary, she does not believe me. All my fear runs on treachery. It must be the fault of your servants; you would do well to write and ask them the reason. It appears they forward you all your letters. If the others fare as badly as these it will comfort me, but if you receive them more regularly what can it mean? Why should these letters be so long on the road? Beware, sir. Do not neglect to find out, for the more I think of it the more anxious I become. I think you wrote in one of your letters that you were uneasy about the seal which I put inside the letter, and I wrote afterwards that I sealed it with that. All this makes me fear that the letters have been opened, and that they have taken away something. You have also written to Her Highness asking what she did after His Highness left. She told you everything, day by day; it cannot have been taken out of the letters. In truth, I know not what to think. I am half inclined to go and see about it myself, and end this anxiety. In the last letter, I wrote to you to send me an answer direct here; I do hope you addressed the letter to me in my own name. If you have not done so let me know, so that I may see to it.
“L. S.”[143]
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Footnote 143:
_La Sentinelle_—one of the pseudonyms of the Fräulein von Knesebeck.
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_Königsmarck to the Princess._
“WAVER, _August_ 14/24.
“At last I have reached the pinnacle of bliss. I received five of your letters at once, but I see by the last that two are still missing. That distresses me, for I do not know how to recover them, and I would not like to lose any of your dear letters, they comfort me too much. You cannot imagine what joy it gives me to find you are innocent. I humbly beg your pardon for having unjustly suspected you. I am greatly grieved about it, and I hope you will not be disgusted with me altogether, for it is because I love you so much that these fancies come to me. Do not punish me as I deserve; I have been punished enough already by the anguish these wicked suspicions have caused me. I promise you to have no more of them. What can I do to show you my gratitude for the quiet life you are leading? If my eternal love suffices, it is yours; if you desire a life _sans peur et sans reproche_, it is yours also. Night and day, day and night, I only think of how to please you. My love for you passes passion; I will be faithful unto death. What! I suspected you of inconstancy. Ah! base am I! You have shed tears for love of me. Oh! dear heart, do not pain those lovely eyes; I am not worthy. What distresses me most is to find that you are more reasonable than I, for you tell me you have not received my letters, and you attribute this to the neglect of my servants at Hanover. You are right, for this is the eighth I have written to you, though I had not received any from you. I was inclined at first to think it was your fault, without considering that a hundred accidents might have hindered. This is my defect—my weakness; but, dearest, remember it springs from loving you so much. I am very glad you are going to Wiesbaden. I am so satisfied with your conduct that you might go to Paris without causing me any anxiety. I am glad you are on such good terms with your parents; this time you should take advantage of it, for there are moments we can never recover.... I am delighted to hear that you find Prince Max sillier than ever; I hope he will never again salute you. The portrait I have with me is dearly cherished; you need not fear any one seeing it, for I guard it so carefully that I defy the cleverest man in the world to guess where it is. My pretty heart, you say in one of your letters that perhaps at this very moment I am dividing my heart with others. Yet see how I am all yours! We have been for six days only four leagues from Brussels without my having thought of setting my foot therein. Yesterday there was a great feast in Brussels called the ‘Feast of the Miracle,’ and Monseigneur l’Electeur[144] and all the great ones and generals of the army went in post-chaises to celebrate it; many fair ladies were there, too. I knew of it soon enough to have gone; but I swear, my dearest, I never thought of going. My soldiers went, and they could not praise it enough, particularly the fair sex. I would not go to Brussels at all if I were not obliged to have a certain bracelet made for me, of which you know, and a copy in miniature of a portrait I shall wear for ever next my heart. My Lord Portland[145] showed me much friendliness, and assured me that the King held me in esteem. All that does not make we wish to better my fortune. No, Beloved, so long as I can count you mine, I wish nothing more; all the favours of kings are useless to me. The King’s interview with our Prince was very dull, for both are men of few words. Yesterday the Prince went to see His Majesty in his camp. I did not go in his suite; but to-morrow I attend him to the Elector’s, and I will give you an account of that. Prince Frederick Augustus of Saxony is the dupe of all; he is cheated in his horses, and money is won from him at cards; he has already lost one thousand pistoles. He has no one to advise him, and is being ruined. I heard to day that Prince Christian is to marry the widow of the Duke d’Arenburg.”
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Footnote 144:
Probably the Elector of Bavaria.
Footnote 145:
Hans William Bentinck, first Earl of Portland and ancestor of the present Duke, accompanied William of Orange to England as confidential adviser, who created him Earl of Portland in 1689. He was in command of a regiment of Dutch Guards at the battle of the Boyne, and probably held the same commission in Flanders. Colt mentions in his despatches that Lord Portland was with King William at Brussels and during the campaign.
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“[_On the 16th._]
“What joy, what rapture, what delight to be loved by you! I have just received two more of your letters. No, my divinity, I will not exact any oaths from you; I know you well, and will trust you and believe everything you tell me. Your devotion shows me that I am the happiest man in the world. I feel so happy; my only sorrow is that we are separated. The days seem weeks to me, the weeks like months, and the months centuries; and when I think that I have still two months of campaigning to go through before I see you, I despair, and pray a thousand times a day that I may be wounded in the fight, and so have a pretext for returning to Hanover—and to you. I am so despondent that I am wasting away; and what grieves me most is the thought that when you see me again you will find me as ugly as sin. The Elector told me so only to-day, and all my friends find me so pale and careworn they scarcely recognise me. Every day they ask me if I am ill; but my complaint only comes from loving you. Cruel little one! You think I am so hasty that I would commit some folly on the strength of a mere suspicion; but, dearest, when a man loves as I love, he can never abandon the woman he adores. I loved you through it all, so think no more about it.”
_The Princess to Königsmarck._
“CELLE, _July_ 28/_August_ 7.
“I, too, ask your pardon for all my unjust suspicions; I would not for worlds have been in the right. I am at a loss for words to express my joy at finding you still so tender; but, indeed, there is a little laziness in you, and it is very good of me to forgive you so easily for the three posts you let pass without writing. Tell me what hindered you; I should like to know. Find me a good excuse, for, really, your neglect rankles in my heart. I am greatly vexed that two of my letters are lost, for if they reflect at all what I am thinking, it will not be difficult to guess that they are written by me. You do not understand what I meant to say about the portrait. I did not mean to speak of mine, for I am sure you will have greater care for all that concerns me than I have myself. It was about yours I was uneasy. You say you are going to have a copy made of it; for whom do you intend that copy? I thank you for giving me leave to go to Wiesbaden; you can do so without any risk, for I so belong to you that you have nothing to fear. All the same, without your consent I would have died rather than have gone, for my only desire is to please you. The Duke and Duchess [of Hanover] have written to me the kindest, most affectionate, and politest of letters concerning the journey. I do not know if I shall be able to receive your letters as quickly as if I were remaining here; I hope so, for they are my only joy and comfort—the least delay grieves me greatly.
“It was so thoughtful of you not to go to Brussels. However, do not restrain yourself; I have no wish to be _exigeante_ so long as you cherish me in your memory. I am too happy, too pleased; but keep your heart whole for me, and do not allow any one to divide it. I am delighted that you are, for once in your life, satisfied with me; were you reasonable you would always be so, for all I do goes to prove my love and devotion. I do not know what you are doing, perhaps very often thinking of me. I dream of you often, and with infinite pleasure, thinking I am with you; then I awake and am inconsolable to find it was only a dream. I cannot delude myself into thinking the vision may soon become a reality, for the Prince writes to me that they are going to raise the siege of Namur. What terrors that news has for me! _Grand Dieu!_ I think of you exposed to danger. How can I keep calm when all that I love, all the delight of my life, is in deadly peril? I offer endless prayers for you, keeping a good heart while saying them, trying to believe they will be granted. Farewell.”