CHAPTER XVI.
THE BATTLE OF STEINKIRK.
I have loved you; yea, when I rode in war Your face went floated in among men’s helms, Your voice went through the shriek of slipping swords. SWINBURNE, _Chastelard_.
“I offer endless prayers for you,” writes the Princess to her lover. He had need of them, for even while the ink was wet Königsmarck was fighting in one of the fiercest battles of the century. The battle of Steinkirk took place on August 3, 1692. William surprised Luxemburg, and began the attack early in the morning while it was yet dark, and at first it seemed that he would succeed. The French general was off his guard, but with consummate skill he checked the advance of the Allies and called up reinforcements. All day long the battle raged without either side gaining advantage; the fight was so close and desperate that the muzzles of the muskets crossed. In the forefront of the battle were the British troops, commanded by Count Solmes, an incapable Dutch general. Though faced by overwhelming numbers, they would not yield an inch, and five fine British regiments were cut to pieces. Mackay’s division of Highlanders was simply mown down with sword and bayonet. No wonder that afterwards there arose a great cry in England that English soldiers should henceforth be commanded by English generals. Had it not been for La Hogue, Steinkirk would have cost William of Orange his English crown.
At last, night drawing on, the army of the Allies retired towards Lambeque, leaving the French in possession of the field. The French lost seven thousand men killed and wounded, the Allies not many more; but the victory was with France. The French rejoicing at this barren victory was only equalled by the disgust of the Allies at their defeat. In the camp at Lambeque all was disunion and discontent; the sudden withdrawal of Prince Frederick Augustus of Saxony (though Königsmarck puts it down to gambling debts) was due as much to political as personal reasons. The Hanoverian contingent was held in reserve as a possible reinforcement, and took no part in the battle, a forced inaction which must have been very galling to their general, Prince George Louis. Königsmarck obtained leave to go to the fight as a volunteer, and attached himself to the Prince of Würtemburg, “following him everywhere in the battle”. The troops sent by the Duke of Celle were in the thick of the fray and suffered great loss.
The disastrous news reached Celle within two days. The little court was plunged into mourning, and the Princess was in agonies of grief and anxiety lest Königsmarck should be numbered among the slain. In the general lamentation her emotion passed unnoticed, or was put down to natural uneasiness about her husband. Colt, who was then at Celle, writes: “The disappointment is great here, when by the news they had received last post they were almost confident of a victory, or at least some considerable advantage; but now, by the relation they have had by a courier, they are told that their troops have suffered very much, and many of their officers killed and wounded. Many persons are in great trouble at the loss of their friends.”[146]
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Footnote 146:
Colt’s _Despatches_, Celle, August, 1692.
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The Princess soon received tidings of her lover’s safety, and with a good heart proceeded to complete her arrangements for the trip to Wiesbaden with her mother. They were interrupted by the unwelcome news that the Electress of Brandenburg was coming to pay the Duke and Duchess of Hanover a visit at Luisburg, and Sophie Dorothea feared that she would have to go there to assist in the festivities. “I dread that more than death,” she writes, thus showing how great was her unhappiness at the Hanoverian court. But her fears were groundless.
Königsmarck’s letters continue to be written from the camp at different places, and are alternately full of passionate love and violent reproaches. They are more varied than those of the Princess (which are, indeed, so full of her love as to leave room for little beside), and give us curious glimpses of contemporary manners. Königsmarck was in high favour with King William, the Elector of Bavaria, and many of the princes and generals of the campaign. Undoubtedly his prospects were brilliant if he had cared to profit by them; but, like the Princess, he was ready to sacrifice everything to his passion. The period covered by this brief introduction is August and September, and the correspondence opens with the reception of the news of the battle of Steinkirk at Celle.
_The Princess to Königsmarck._
“[CELLE,] _July_ 29/_August_ 8.
“I learned on my awakening that a fearful battle had taken place and you were in it. Imagine my agitation. It was noticed by every one, for I could not hide my feelings. I am in inconceivable anxiety. I cannot sleep, and shall not until I know you are out of danger. My plight is pitiful: it seems to me that every gun is pointed at you; you must be running terrible risks. _Grand Dieu!_ if any hurt were to happen to you, what would become of me? I could not conceal my grief nor be mistress of my emotion; I should start at once for the camp, hasten to give you all necessary care and attention, and never leave you more. My sufferings are intense. I know you have been going through great danger, but know not how you fare. I shudder, tremble, and am overwhelmed with woe. Do not expose me to such fears in the future—leave me no more. If it be true that you love me, spend the rest of your life with me; let us build up a happiness in each other which none can shatter. I have not the heart to write more; I am so beside myself that I hardly know what I am writing. You have caused me many tears since you went away; I fear me they will only cease to flow when you come back, for you will be exposed to danger all through the campaign. I hate King William, who is the cause of it all; he breaks my heart by thus risking all I have in the world. Good-bye. Take care of yourself. Remember my life is fused with yours; I would not live a moment were you to die.”
[Illustration:
FACSIMILE OF ONE OF THE PRINCESS’S LETTERS TO KÖNIGSMARCK. _Photographed from the original manuscript in the University Library at Lund._ This letter is probably written at the Princess’s dictation by Knesebeck. ]
_Königsmarck to the Princess._
“FROM THE CAMP NEAR WAVERN.
“Here I am again. I have escaped once more. Our troops did not come in for any fighting, but I did for I volunteered, and was in the most terrible fire. The Prince of Würtemburg will bear me witness that I followed him everywhere in the battle; but as I was only a volunteer I could not distinguish myself, and that grieves me, for I ran just the same risk as if I had been ordered to the front. The Duke of Celle has lost a great many men.[147] I will not tell you any more about the battle, for you will know enough from other sources. But, dearest, I will tell you that I received, while marching, your letter of the 18th, and after reading it, I put it next my heart and kept it there until I was out of the fight, and I believe it was your dear letter that saved my life. I am grateful indeed for the talisman, and adore you more than ever, since you have rendered me such a service. Until now, dear one, they have not sought to tempt me from you, nor have I even seen a woman; if I had she would have made no impression upon me.
“I must tell you of the precautions I took about your letters on the eve of the battle. I sealed them all, with the portrait, in a packet, and gave them to Daniell, an officer of my regiment, with strict orders to burn them at once if I were killed. But joy! I can still read them, and my eyes will have the pleasure of looking into yours.
“I have heard from Prince Ernest that the Electress [of Brandenburg] is going to Luisburg, and therefore I imagine you will go also; but pray keep to your strict rule of conduct, for you will be sure to find there some of your old admirers, who will try to win your good graces. The Electress will notice it, and to annoy us both she will try to entangle you in a flirtation with Le Barbouilleur;[148] but you have been so good that I am sure you will continue in the same path.”
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Footnote 147:
“This Duke here is really very much troubled for the loss of his troops in the late action.”—Colt’s _Despatch_, Celle, August 5, 1692.
Footnote 148:
_Le Barbouilleur_, the scribbler, the spoiler of paper. He must have been some one holding high office at the court of Hanover.
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“AT THE CAMP OF HALLE [undated].
“I have only now received your twelfth letter; it was given me with three others. You cannot fairly accuse me of being negligent, and it grieves me that you should imagine the ladies of Brussels might hinder me from paying you due attention. Here are more grievances; but I forgive you, for of course you were unaware that I had not set foot there, and were it not for the bracelet, I assure you I should not think of going at all. Play prevented me from writing the day before yesterday; and there I am in fault rather, the more so as yesterday I could not write because of the enemy giving an alarm; otherwise, my dear one, I should never have missed writing. Your letters were a great comfort to me; they came very _à propos_, for I got them when I came back from the King’s tent, where I had lost a thousand pistoles, and, as that is a considerable sum, it was vexing me not a little, but your dear letters made me forget my trouble. Still I found in one of them something which tells me that if I were the man to break my vows you would easily be consoled. You are certainly very complaisant when you say: ‘I fear that 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.’ If I were such a traitor as to change you ought to be grieved, and not beg me to divert myself, and not to restrain myself. But surely you did not mean it. It was anger that made you write thus. It is strange that you should not have received any of my letters. This is the fifth I have written to you from this camp, and I have not missed a post except the two before mentioned. I would scold you much were I not in the same plight as yourself; yet _I_ have never prayed you to write to me no more. That shocks me much in your letter, and twenty times at least I have thrown down my pen as I thought of the wrong you do me. But I cannot better pass my time than in writing to you, though it be always in a strain of complaint. I have received a letter to-day from my agent at Antwerp, but without enclosing any from you; that adds to my sadness, for my only comfort is in reading your letters. I have little enough of it, for the whole of your letters I have received since I left Hanover could be read in half an hour. I often find comfort in sitting before your portrait, and if it could speak to you on my return it would tell of the passion with which I gaze on it for hours together, how often it brings tears to my eyes, how often I sigh, ‘Ah! _mon Dieu!_’ and, ‘Oh! what joy for me to die!’ I swear, my charming pet, that all the day long I speak to no one; I only think of you, and often in the night your vision rises before my eyes.... If you remain true to me you will no doubt make me turn into a sober citizen of Hanover, for, after all, one only seeks to be happy, and how could I be happier than in possessing you wholly and solely. There is a rumour here that we shall attack Mons; if that be so, keep the ‘Festa’. If you are true to me, pray for me, besiege Heaven with prayers and vows; but if you are not true, then do not pray for me, for I would rather find my grave there—though, however untrue you might be, I would give much to see you again.
“In a previous letter I told you that there were very few distinguished-looking men in the train of the King or the Elector; but if I had seen the Duke of Richmond,[149] son of the Duchess of Portsmouth, sooner, I should not have said so, for he is the most charming youth. He unites to perfect manners an air of great distinction; he is well made, and has a handsome face and fine eyes. I only hope he may not become my rival; he is such a good-looking boy that if I were not sure of your constancy my chances would be very poor.
“You ask if any woman has tempted me to forget you. I vow that since I left Hanover I have not gone astray. My health is poor, but before I see you again I hope to be in such perfect condition that you may command me as you will. I go on my knees before your portrait and exclaim, ‘I pray your pardon for my wicked suspicions. I see that I greatly wronged you, and am waiting for my sentence; it could not be hard enough for me to deserve.’
“The Prince allowed me to leave my regiment and go to the battle, with an order to come back soon; but as I was in the thick of it I did not return in a hurry. When all was over he said to me, ‘You were away a very long time,’ but he said it very nicely. I went to dine with him yesterday, and found him as usual.”
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Footnote 149:
Charles Lennox, illegitimate son of King Charles II. by Louise de Querouaille, Duchess of Portsmouth, was created Duke of Richmond in 1675, and is ancestor of the present Duke. He was born in 1672, and would therefore be in his twenty-first year at this time.
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_The Princess to Königsmarck._
“[CELLE,] _August_ 4/14.
“What joy to know that you are out of danger! One must love as I love to feel as I feel. I passed two days and nights in mortal anguish; no one ever suffered so much. And now two of your letters come at the same time. I am overjoyed with them, for you assure me that you are pleased with me and I need fear nothing on the score of your constancy. But I love you so dearly that I needs must scold you for having exposed yourself to unnecessary danger. What have I done that you should treat me so lightly? Ought you not guard yourself for me? I should be grieved were you to risk your honour, but I cannot forgive you for doing rash things like a foolish boy; I entreat and implore you do not commit any more of such follies. What would become of me were I to lose you? Do you never think that my life is bound up with yours, and I would not live a moment if you were to be killed? I hope the campaign will soon end, for if they are going to attempt anything fresh I shall die of terror lest some hurt befall you. I don’t know what the Elector [of Bavaria] could have been about with his eyes to have thought you ‘as ugly as sin’. Had he seen you with mine he would have found you the most charming and the handsomest of men. No one can dispute the palm with you, and however many wonderful things you may tell me about the Duke of Richmond, I am sure he must pale in comparison with you. You would have no reason to fear him were he to ‘become your rival,’ for he would only pave the way for your triumph. Neither he nor any man in the world could please me after you. I could pay you any number of compliments of this sort, but I fear to offend your modesty, so I will stop.
“The Electress of Brandenburg will not come for some time, and I shall be gone before she arrives. Our escort on the journey are not dangerous. You may rest easy: they are only my mother’s two pages and Verfuy. When we meet you will find me more faithful and loving than ever; be the same, I implore you. Let me thank you for taking such precautions concerning my letters and portrait; but they were unnecessary, for had you fallen, my grief would have discovered everything. I should not have had the strength to restrain myself; and, indeed, it would have been immaterial to me whether I was lost or not, for without you life would be intolerable, and imprisonment within four walls pleasanter than to go on living in the world.[150] Thank God, I am now free from such sad thoughts, and I make many prayers not to come again to such straits.
“All the court to-night complimented me on my cheerfulness. The fools thought the Prince was the cause of it; but, to tell the truth, I have not once thought about him. I cannot tell you the delight I feel because, at last, you are pleased with me. Let it be so always; and the more you know me the more you will love me. The love I bear you will last till death, and all the powers of the universe will never part us. If you could peep into my heart at this moment and behold the confusion you cause there, you would be satisfied. You are fascinating, loving, faithful—what can woman wish for more? My happiness is beyond compare, and I have only one wish left in the world—to see you soon. Would you were with me at this very moment! When once I hold you again I will never let you go. Good-night. It is late. I am fain to end, though I have so many more things to say that my words will never tarry. Be all mine, I implore you. As for me, I live only for you. I am grieved that you are not in good health. I thank you for the care you take of yourself, and, though I am surprised at it, I am grateful, as I ought to be. Good-bye.
“I _cannot_ end. I take so much delight in writing to you that I could spend the whole night at it. La Confidente is going to sleep; I must send her to bed. Love me as I love you. I am too happy for words.”
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Footnote 150:
In view of subsequent events this is almost prophetic.
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“[CELLE,] _August_ 5/15.
“My mother, who has just left me, tells me it is quite true there will be another battle. If I had not been in bed she would have noticed the shock her news gave me; I have not got over it yet. Again I am in mortal terror, and can only write of my sorrow to-day. It is agonising to think of your being perpetually exposed to danger. Am I destined to sorrow all my life? Shall I never be able to taste quietly the joys of loving and being loved? I long for news of you on the morrow. I shall spend a sleepless night.
“My father and mother have just interrupted me. I was writing this letter, and it was all I could do to hide it; it would have astonished them if they had seen it. They are very considerate and kind, but are always preaching to me to behave properly to the Prince. My father will not hear any jokes or ridicule at his expense, and therefore I do not speak to him as much as I should otherwise do. If you only knew how weary I am, you would never have the cruelty to leave me again. But I must not think of this; I must make up my mind to divide your heart with your love of glory. You have all mine. There is no room in it for any one or anything—the desire to please you fills it entirely. I love you far more than you love me. Farewell. It is my desire to become an example of the tenderest love, the most perfect constancy, that ever existed since the world began.
“_L’Envoi._—I have just received your letter. I deserve to be scolded, it is true; but how can I guard my words when I fear losing you, when I love you to madness? I would rather die over and over again than cease to be loved by you. You are right in thinking it was anger made me write the words that wounded you: I cannot be reasonable when I love so passionately. I will write to you fully to-morrow. I have no time to say more now, as my father is coming to take me to a ‘bull-bait,’[151] the same as they have in England. It is not necessary for me to assure you again that I shall never change. If there be any vows left I would sign them with my heart’s blood.”
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Footnote 151:
Bull-baiting was a popular pastime in England during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, patronised by royalty and persons of rank. Queen Elizabeth gave one in honour of the French ambassadors in 1559, and the Queen and the ambassadors greatly enjoyed “the sport”. This barbarous pastime was also practised as late as the reign of Queen Anne, and was very popular, too, in market towns and rural villages. But these bull-baitings drew such a mob of low and dissipated persons together that they were at last abolished in the interests of the public peace.
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_Königsmarck to the Princess._
“HALLE, _August_.
“I again asked your pardon for all I wrote in haste. I missed the post _twice_ (not _three_ times, as you say) for good and sufficient reasons. Still, I ought to have left all to acquit myself of my duty to you. My dear, I own my fault, so I hope you will forgive me; I will not neglect writing another time.... You make fun of me when you say that I took away a copy of my likeness. I swear that I never did such a thing. I went yesterday to Brussels to have the bracelet and the portrait made, but for nothing else. Prince Christian and several other of my friends wanted me to go to the Assembly. I refused, and went for a walk. I saw La Reingrave, La Delvassine,[152] and other ladies, but they were so dull and unattractive that I mounted my horse and rode back to the camp. Indeed, my dearest, I find those ladies hideous now, though they pass for the handsomest in Brussels. What are they compared to you? Two years ago I thought them passable, but now I am astonished at my bad taste. They are as pale-faced and sickly as if they had had the fever; pallor is very fashionable in Brussels.
“How sweet is that part of your letter in which you say that if an accident had befallen me you would have hastened to my side and have never left me more! Why wasn’t I riddled with bullets? Why couldn’t those cowardly Frenchmen catch me? We are going to undertake something again soon, and then I will face the fire, and with intrepid courage brave the enemy. I will seek the most perilous places, and if I get wounded I shall hope to see you, hold you in my arms, and tell you how dearly I love you.
“I hear that your father is going to Luisburg; if so, you will probably be one of the party. Pray tell me your plans, for I know not where to write, nor when to see you. They say our troops will be quartered at Louvain or Dist; in that case I shall be nearer you. If your mother were still away at Wiesbaden, I might hope to see you without its being known; but what I fear most is that the court of Celle will be at Epsdorff. In that event I shall lose patience, for you will be there a long time, and what shall I do at Hanover without you? I must tell you an ugly story about the Duke of Richmond; he was giving a party to Duke Frederick of Saxony and some women.[153]... I have altered my good opinion of him. Duke Frederick has promised me to come to the next carnival at Hanover, and you can easily guess why I press him. Is it to make me happy or unhappy? I say no more. Monsieur Kielmansegge is very anxious to go back to Hanover, and if His Highness asks it of the Duke they will allow him. I give you this piece of news as I am sure it will please you.... The Electress of Brandenburg is sending me compliments through Prince Ernest. I don’t know what she means; perhaps she wishes to become your rival. How we should laugh at her! Farewell, dear heart.”
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Footnote 152:
Two beauties of Brussels.
Footnote 153:
This anecdote is unfit for publication.
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_The Princess to Königsmarck._
“[CELLE,] _August_ 6/16.
“_I_ could not have carelessly allowed _three_ posts to go by without sending any news to you, and when one loves to madness it is hard to be calm. I crave your pardon for all I wrote that has displeased you; you are right to attribute it to anger. Had you forgotten me, whatever I may have said, I could not have borne it quietly, for I claim you as _all_ mine. I would stand up for you against the world. Pardon me, then; for what I wrote only came from excess of love.
“I am not astonished at Duke Frederick’s indiscretion; it is so common to all men that I think you are the only one exempt from it. I should like to know whether you are not a little angry about La Marionette’s complacency; it takes a good deal off the price of the favours she granted you. I felt a malicious joy with regard to that adventure. Put it against my account. I should much like to know what she says about Ferdi.[154] The Prince has answered my mother about my going with her to Wiesbaden; he leaves everything to the Duke, and says neither yea nor nay. He tells me the same thing, so we shall start in two days from now. I have already told you the Duke is quite agreeable. My father stays here,[155] and Max is going to visit the Electress of Brandenburg; she will not come just yet. Since you don’t wish me to go anywhere except to Wiesbaden, I will avoid Frankfort, and will try all I can to prevent my mother from going. She has determined to take me herself, or send me there to see the fair; but I will give it up, for I wish all my actions to mark my love and show my desire to please you. I will write to your sister[156] and tell her of our journey. I have not done so before because it was not settled, but I fear it will be too late for her to join us. You were not wise to wish her to keep watch over me. If I wished to deceive you, neither she nor anybody could prevent me. But let your mind be at rest; I would rather die a hundred deaths than suffer the thought to cross my mind.
“I could not finish my letter this afternoon. I had to make some visits with my mother, and on coming home I learned that the Electress of Brandenburg will be at Luisburg next week; she has already sent a list of her suite, so no doubt she is coming. I am vexed about it, for I was looking forward to going to Wiesbaden—more for the purpose, I assure you, of shunning the world than of seeking it. I am uncertain what will happen now. I may be compelled to go to Luisburg, and I dread that more than death. The Electress will be sure to spy on me, cross-question me, and watch all my actions, and she will find me so different from what I used to be that she will guess the reason. Never mind, this is the least of my cares. Prince Max is going the day after to-morrow to meet her and will accompany her to Luisburg.[157] If I do not receive any letters commanding me to stay, I shall start on Tuesday.”
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Footnote 154:
Ferdi, _i.e._, Ferdinand, the favourite musician of the Electress of Brandenburg, a violinist.
Footnote 155:
“This court will the next week remove from hence: the Duke to follow his hunting, and the Duchess goes to Wiesbaden, near Mayence, for her health.”—Colt’s _Despatch_, Celle, August 5, 1692.
Footnote 156:
The Countess Aurora, who was then at Hanover. Many of the letters passed through her hands, though they were sometimes sent direct.
Footnote 157:
“The Electress of Brandenburg is passing by here on her way to Luisburg, where the Hanoverian court is at a country house.”—Colt’s _Despatch_, Celle, August 12, 1692.
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_Königsmarck to the Princess._
“HALLE [undated].
“So far from forgetting you, I only think of you, and I study all possible means of seeing you again. To that end I arranged with Monsieur de Goritz, if the battle had been victorious to us, to have borne the good news to our court, and so perhaps to have had the joy of seeing and embracing you; but, my dear angel, Fortune did not favour my plan. All these accidents about the letters make me wretched. I am grieved at your anxiety on that account, but you accuse me unjustly, and, in turn, I claim you will ask my pardon as I did yours.”
_The Princess to Königsmarck._
“[CELLE,] _August_ 8/18.
“I should have died with joy if you had come as you thought of doing; and, though you did not come, I am grateful to you for having had the thought. I am so absorbed in my love that I am becoming insensible to everything else; nothing can please me but to see you again and spend my life with you: as long as that cannot be, I shall always be wretched. I have already asked your pardon for the wrong I did you; I do it again, since you wish me. I am delighted to be wrong, and I only wish I had always been so mistaken. I, too, know a prison waiting for my prisoner with great impatience. If I told you all my troubles, all my sorrows, I should make you weep. My trip will last six or seven weeks. I hope we shall both return [to Hanover] about the same time. I must not see you the first time in public: my emotion would betray me. They still say there will be a second battle; it makes me tremble. I have not slept for many nights, and am rather unwell. I think it comes from loving you overmuch, but that is such a sweet sickness I do not wish to be cured. I will write to you as often as I possibly can, but do not blame me if you do not get my letters.
“I leave to-morrow. The Duchess Sophia has just written to my mother to say the Electress is coming, but as she wishes me a pleasant journey I no longer fear having to remain.”