CHAPTER XVIII.
KÖNIGSMARCK RETURNS FROM THE WAR.
Come back! from love of thee my soul is glowing, Come back! without thee my sad heart is grieving, Come back! for by thy absence, my beloved one, Bewildered, bitter tears in floods are flowing. HAFÌZ.
The Princess and her mother went to the Frankfort fair; but their visit was a brief one, and the Prince of Hesse was prevented from meeting them, so Königsmarck’s jealous fears were groundless. From Frankfort the Duchess of Celle took her daughter back with her to Epsdorff, where the Duke was a-hunting. We find Königsmarck writing, “At present my greatest happiness is to know that you are at Epsdorff, and you are going to stay”.[171] But the Princess remained there only a few days, as her presence was imperatively required at Hanover, where the Elector and Electress of Brandenburg had at last arrived on their long-expected visit, and were being entertained with every mark of honour. The Duke of Hanover was anxious to be invested with the Electoral dignity forthwith, and urged the Elector of Brandenburg to put pressure upon the Emperor.
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Footnote 171:
Königsmarck to the Princess, Ghent, September 11/21;
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The defeat at Steinkirk had sown discontent among the Allies, and many of them, including the Duke of Hanover, if he did not receive his dues, were ready to lend ear again to Louis. Colt writes: “Balati [the French envoy] is at last returned, bringing many fine things with him, especially for the ladies, and he says so many fine things of the French court in public, besides what he doth in private, that I have met with much coldness from the Minister, Count Platen, and his lady, who govern all things here; and if I could speak with the tongue of an angell, and this Duke’s interest were never so much on my side, it would avail but little, unless I did make some presents as they had from France”.[172] The Duke, a born diplomatist temporised with France, and got what he wanted from the Elector of Brandenburg, who brought his visit to a close, well pleased, and departed with many expressions of goodwill. Two days later the Duke of Hanover went to carry the good tidings to the Duke of Celle at Göhre.
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Footnote 172:
Colt’s _Despatch_, Hanover, September 27, 1692.
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With all this important public business on hand it would not have been surprising if private and court intrigues had been for the time overlooked; but it was not so. While the princes were busy with affairs of state, the princesses were no less concerned with family matters. In some way the intimacy between Sophie Dorothea and Königsmarck had again attracted attention. Perhaps some of the letters miscarried (it is noteworthy that none of the Princess’s letters from Frankfort are preserved), or the servants babbled to Countess Platen and aroused her jealousy afresh, or the Duchess of Celle, who narrowly watched her daughter while she was with her, discovered something and communicated her fears to the Duke. However that may have been, suspicion was aroused, and it was determined to prevent Königsmarck and the Princess from coming together again. Suspicion fell on Countess Aurora as an accomplice in the intrigue, and Duke Ernest Augustus sent her a message to the effect that she would do well to avoid Hanover in the future. Königsmarck also seems to have received a hint that other princes might find his services more useful.
All this threw both the Princess and her lover into great alarm and agitation, though their fears, in either case, were not on account of personal danger (which was considerable), but lest they should be parted from one another. Much of this is told in the five letters that follow.
_The Princess to Königsmarck._
“[HANOVER,] _September_ 28/_October_ 8.
“It is not enough for me to be bowed down to the earth by the fear of losing you, but you must add to the _peine_ by being dissatisfied with me. All the rest is nothing in comparison with this last affliction; it makes me oblivious to everything else. I can find no comfort anywhere. You reproach me with having met La Marionette [the Princess of Hesse] as arranged at Frankfort. I could not help going there; my mother insisted on it. Besides, I knew that the Prince was not coming with his sister; I thought him much farther away than he actually was. In any case, everything passed off so well that you are the most unjust of men if you are not satisfied. I did not see a single person there worth mentioning, as I have already told you. The person you sent to spy has doubtless informed you to the same effect, and I am hoping that the first letter I receive from you will give me as much joy as the last four have given me sorrow. They are all in the same strain, and I am desperate because you are so unjust. My life ought to show that my love for you is unequalled. I have ceased to take interest in anything, and for this long while have sacrificed everything for you—to prove better that I am worthy of your love.
“If I must give up seeing you, I will give up the world altogether. I cannot contemplate such a thing. Yet I fear I must be prepared for it, for the Electress of Brandenburg has told me that you will be sent away, but on some pretext which will not apparently concern me; she had it from Countess Platen. I cannot describe to you the state I have been in for the last four or five days; if grief could kill, I should surely be dead. I no longer sleep, I do not eat at all, and I am a prey to gloomy foreboding. It may be that time and absence will cure you of your passion, but mine will end only with my life. That is a truth time will show. I have your portrait. I cannot look on it without tears; I wish it might testify to the intensity of my sorrow and love. I fear many afflictions and misfortunes are in store. Le Barbouilleur is in league with Countess Platen and her cabal. He tries to harm Aurora in everything he possibly can, and went so far as to say to the Duchess Sophia that she was a ‘she-devil’. I should hardly have believed he could have been so base a coward as that. I told you that he once began to show airs to me, but he did not go far; the anger I evinced soon stopped him.
“You say you are ‘going to Brussels to cure yourself’. How can you have the cruelty to write such a thing to me—who am so sensitive and tender? Anger alone spoke when you wrote those words. You don’t mean to go. I know not yet by what mischance one of your letters was opened: La Confidente is trying to find out; fortunately you say little in it. But you tell me that they will force you to leave me. Let me know what makes you think so; reassure me in my trouble and anxiety. My love is proof against all; I vow you an everlasting constancy.
“The Duke [of Hanover] went away this morning on a visit to my father.[173] He took only Le Barbouilleur with him. I believe the Duchess will follow, and I shall go with her, unless the Prince should arrive soon.... I have been interrupted at this point in an alarming manner. I thought I was perfectly safe, for I gave orders to say that I was asleep. I had your portrait quite near me, attached to a screen, and....”[174]
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Footnote 173:
At the Duke of Celle’s hunting-seats of Epsdorff and Göhre. In his _Despatch_, September 30, 1692, Colt mentions that the “Elector of Brandenburg has gone home and that the Duke of Hanover is with his brother, hunting”.
Footnote 174:
The end of this letter is not to be found.
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_The Princess to Königsmarck._
“[HANOVER,] _October_ 10/20.
“I have heard nothing from you for a week. I am in despair, for I have never been in such need of consolation as now. I still hope to receive a letter from you this evening, but if that hope should fail I know not what will become of me. I have endless things to tell you. I would give my blood to be able to tell them to you by word of mouth, but I see little or no chance of it. If you could come secretly I think the plan might succeed. I shall go to meet the Prince,[175] but I shall be there only a few days; we shall return here together. The matter they are trying to arrange, and on which depends my visit to the Electress of Brandenburg, is almost settled. There seems to be no doubt that the investiture will take place in four or five weeks. Knowing your temper, I am not sure if you will approve of my visit. I can assure you I think only of how to escape from going; but it is very difficult, for I have not to deal with children, and in the present state of things it would be harder to make excuses than at any other time. Let me know your wishes, and think, too, of some sensible expedient, in case you should not wish me to go. The Prince has written a ridiculous letter, with an order to give it, from him, to Le Barbouilleur, with his compliments. I did nothing of the kind. La Confidente returned it to him without a word from me. He avoids me as much as I shun him. No one could spend a more miserable life than I do. I am in a perpetual state of terror, and, to crown all, your letters are so cold that they make me lose patience. I declare, every one conspires against me. Instead of loving me more firmly than ever, you overwhelm me with unreasonable complaints. Maybe you rejoice at the obstacles in the way of my happiness. While I am fretting my heart out here, and have not a moment’s peace for fear they may part us for ever, you may be secretly tasting the joys of new conquests, without giving me so much as a thought. I am surprised that I still keep my reason, or know what I am saying. Persecuted as I am on all sides, tormented by anxiety on your account, I should not wonder if my brain were to give way. I have never deserved your love more than now. However bitterly you may reproach me, however much I may fear, nothing shakes my resolve to love you for ever, and to prove it to you all I can. They can hinder me from seeing you, but they can never keep me from being yours all my life long: you take the place of all to me. They told the Duke [of Hanover] that you moved to another house with your sister Aurora, and so sought to lure me to your place. Think of that! How they seek to ruin you! I did not sleep all night thinking of our being parted for ever. I know now the agony of separation so well that I dread it more than death. Yet I believe with a little prudence and good behaviour one could remedy all these evils, but I would rather _speak_ to you about the measures to be taken than write. When shall I have that bliss? It seems very far away. I am so uncertain about your feelings towards me that I hardly know what to think. It is my great anxiety, for were I sure of your love my sufferings would be much less. I am trembling as I write—I fear every sound; but I worship you, and as long as you love me I can console myself easily about all the rest.”
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Footnote 175:
The Prince of Hanover had returned from the campaign to Luisburg.
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_Königsmarck to the Princess._
“DEINZE, _September_ 20/30.
“We have sent our baggage on to Ghent, and as I am in need of paper, I beg your pardon for using loose pieces which I pick up from anywhere. I cannot hide from you any longer my fear that they will separate us soon. To tell you all. My sisters wished to go through Hanover on their way to ——. Marshal Podevils, knowing they had arrived at Hamburg, asked leave to go and see them. The Duke told him he knew my sisters were there, and he had been informed that Aurora wished to visit Hanover. He therefore begged the Marshal to tell her with his compliments that he had the highest regard for her, but she would do him a great favour in changing her plans, as she and all her house had witnessed their last carnival at Hanover.[176] My sister, astonished at such a message, which perhaps was never before sent to a lady of quality, begged Marshal Podevils in reply to tell His Highness that she had not expected such civility from a prince, or one who passed as such, and it was easy to obey his commands, as she had no intention of spending another winter in Hanover, for the last visit gave her no longing to return. Her answer was smart enough, but I wish she had written it to Monseigneur le Duc, for Podevils will not tell it to him like that. You can see how far the power of that woman[177] goes; we all have to fear her. She was waiting for the Marshal after his interview with His Highness at Luisburg, and said to him: ‘I know you are going to see Königsmarck’s sisters at Hamburg, and they tell me Countess Aurora is coming to Hanover. I can allow her to return to court if His Highness is willing to permit it, though we have no great confidence in her.’[178] These are the exact words she used, and I do not know whether they mean that the Duke or the Countess has no confidence in her. I don’t think Aurora cares much about the confidence of either; her greatest trouble is that she cannot pay her respects to Madame la Princesse. You will understand how these things worry and distress me. I have thought of writing to Marshal Podevils and begging him to tell me if this affair was doing me harm with the Duke, as I should have to take precautions, and adding that I expect him to do me this kindness as a good friend of our house; but as his answer would probably be to advise me to leave [the Duke’s service], I have not carried out my intention without knowing your wishes, which are my law. If, however, you give me leave, you will see a fine row, for I will avenge myself on this insult in such a manner that the whole world will talk about it, though that pleasure would cost me dear, for I should have to leave you.”
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Footnote 176:
The Duke evidently thought the Countess Aurora was coming to Hanover for the carnival in the winter.
Footnote 177:
Countess Platen.
Footnote 178:
Contemporary evidence of the quarrel between Countess Platen and Aurora is given in a letter of the Electress Sophia, published in Cramer’s _Memorials of the Countess Königsmarck_.
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“AFFLEGEN, _October_ 6/16.
“I was hindered the day before yesterday from finishing my letter by the alarm that the French were going to attack Charleroy,[179] but it came to nothing, and therefore I am able to write now. As my previous letters seem to have upset you so much, I am dying to know what there was in them to offend you so greatly. You command me to make the _amende honorable_; I willingly do so. I am only too happy to find myself mistaken, and hope you will forgive me. The Prince of Würtemburg’s affair must have prevented the Prince of Hesse from carrying out his intention of going to the fair. I have not heard who went to Frankfort, but I think that _ma chérie_ has been badly rewarded for her trouble in going to the fair, for I hear very few men of quality were there. You are good enough to say if I find anything in your letters to vex me I must put it down to anger: of course, one must pardon anything from an angry lady, so tell me, I pray you, what shall I do to be reconciled to you? Command me and I will obey. My crime is suspicion. Surely it is only right and fair that I should tell you my fears, even though I may be in the wrong. I own I am wrong, and am ready to offer you any reparation. I have never sighed ‘for fresh conquests’ since I paid my court to you. To be sure of your heart is my only happiness and desire; but, Beloved, I cannot suffer any rivals.... All the treasures, all the pleasures, all the charms of the world will not lure me from the woman who has my heart. You may be sure that neither kings nor riches, neither castles nor all the tortures of hell, would make me change.”
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Footnote 179:
Colt’s _Despatch_, Göhre, October 17: “We have just heard the welcome news that the French have failed in their design on Charleroy; they were for the most part sure here that Charleroy must be taken”.
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“_Six o’clock, from_ CHARLEROY, _October_ 10/20.
“I sighed a long time for your letters. Two came yesterday. I opened them with joy, but gladness was soon changed to direst grief. My misery is so great that it will surely drive me to some desperate deed. I was so troubled and distraught that I did not notice yesterday that the King was looking for me in the crowd, and bowed to me. Monsieur Bülow warned me, otherwise I should not have seen him. The order that our troops are to go to the relief of Charleroy could not have come more _à propos_, for I shall seek death there, and so find relief from my troubles. Think only of yourself, and take every care that their suspicions may not get you into trouble. I implore you do this. I will bear all the disgrace with joy if only I see you out of danger. I will gladly be of all men the most miserable, I will give up the only woman I have ever loved in my life, I will leave the Hanoverian service, and so be deprived at one blow of my divinity, my calling, and my consolation. The North takes away from me the means of livelihood,[180] and even in play bad luck persecutes me. See to what plight I have come! I have borne ruin and disgrace with impunity, happy in the joy of being able to love you with a lasting love, but now I must live without you! I cannot do so. If I have to leave you I must leave life too. Charleroy will help me; there I will seek death to end my sorrow.... If death does not decide my fate, I will never abandon you—not even though I were poisoned, massacred, beaten black and blue, or burned alive. But I talk like a man who has lost his reason. I do not see how in suffering all these insults I am gaining you. I am only drawing on you no end of trouble. I must give you up; but, if I must die, I will die avenging myself on those who are forcing me to abandon you.
“My greatest grudge is against La Platen, and on her I will avenge myself, for to her I attribute all my misfortunes. I will seek out her son, pick a quarrel with him, and send him to the other world. After that I will tell everybody how she persecuted me, tell them also all the foolish things I did with her, and then, if the Duke still shuts his eyes, the first time I meet her off her dung-hill I will insult her so publicly that all her life long she will never dare to show her face again. But how small is such revenge in comparison with the harm she does me! for she robs me of the only joy I have in the world. I lived only for _ma chérie_, I wore her chains with gladness; she was my joy, my divinity, my all. Imagine, therefore, the misery this jade of a Platen brings upon me! If I were lord of creation I would offer a sacrifice of her, and give her to the bears to eat; the lions should suck her devil’s blood, the tigers tear her cowardly heart out. I would spend day and night seeking new torments to punish her for her black infamy in separating a man, who loves to distraction, from the object of his love.... I thought it very likely they would try to remove me, because they egged on my sister Aurora to send so rude an answer to the Duke. But as to what you tell me from the Electress of Brandenburg, don’t you think she said it to see whether you would betray yourself; for I cannot believe that La Platen would have said that to her! Should the Duke come to hear of it she would be ruined.
“Your last letter of the 28th comforts me a little, for you say that you will always be faithful to me, and all these persecutions only serve to encourage you in that determination. You give me back life. Should their plan of sending me away from you come to anything, we shall see what will happen. I do not see any way for you to make me happy unless you, some time or another, confide in your mother that your love and my removal would make you do something foolish. That fear will either make them keep me near at hand or send me to the other world. They are desperate remedies; but if one cannot hope, one fears nothing. I know not if my dear one takes my meaning.
“_L’envoi._—The mischance with the portrait makes me tremble. If I see you again I will take care to be hidden. Is it possible that you think your assurances of love weary me? Your letters are the only joy I have. Continue to send them, I pray you, and be wise. I read the last word with as much joy as the beginning—if only you do not speak of my removal or of your going away for some time. The sweetest part of your letter is where you ask me to tell you what to do so as to obey. I entreat you, do not suffer them to part us; use every effort to prevent it, and if in the end it must be, _come with me_, following the fate of Léonnisse and her chevalier; it is the only real way for us to be happy.”
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Footnote 180:
The King of Sweden was threatening to confiscate his estates.
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The Princess’s letters are now missing, and we are left to gather the substance of them from Königsmarck’s epistles. Apparently the Princess did not approve of the desperate remedies suggested in his last letter. As Königsmarck often complains, she was of a timid disposition and not given to heroic measures. She was unwilling to take her mother into her confidence; she was not prepared to leave all and flee with her lover, except as a last resort, nor did she approve of his writing to the Field-Marshal. She took counsel, it seems, with the Electress of Brandenburg, who, she must surely have realised, had she reflected, was one of her enemies. The Electress, a clever and brilliant woman, does not appear in an amiable light in this affair. Like her mother and all her house, she despised Sophie Dorothea, but she seems to have suspended her animosity towards her sister-in-law for a time from the pleasure it gave her to find that she had an intrigue. The Electress advised her to temporise; to make her peace with Countess Platen, whose jealousy was at the bottom of the whole business; to advise Königsmarck to do the same, and all would be well. The advice was unworthy, but the unhappy Princess resolved to follow it. It seemed to her the only thing to be done, and anything was preferable to separation from her lover. In her new-found confidence with the Electress of Brandenburg she paid her a brief visit at Lützenburg, her beautiful palace just outside Berlin, now known as Charlottenburg.
Meanwhile Königsmarck was trying in vain to obtain his leave and return to Hanover and his divinity; but on some pretext or another it was always refused. The campaign was now at an end. King William had gone back to England, the Prince of Hanover had left the camp, and all the electors and princes had departed their several ways. The Hanoverian troops were sent to the garrison at Dist, into winter quarters, and Königsmarck with them. Impatient at the delay in getting his leave, he threatened to return to Hanover without it, though this would be tantamount to resignation, and so play into the hands of his enemies. He writes:—
“JENAPPE, _October_ 25.
“You know well that rather than do anything which might displease you I would be torn into a thousand pieces. I will therefore _not_ write to the Field-Marshal, but obey your commands in this as in other things; it will always be a joy for me to do so.
“I cannot understand what it means about my sister Aurora wishing to estrange the ducal family. I am curious to know what she has done. Since you wrote so freely to Aurora, I hope you will tell her to burn your letters. The phrase ‘kind friend’ in the mouth of La Platen has a hidden meaning; it is evident she suspects something without quite knowing what, for I am certain if she really knew the least thing she would not fail to inform those who ought not to know it. I do not at all agree with the Electress of Brandenburg’s advice. My soul would be very base to pretend submission to a person who is persecuting you. Were it not for your sake I would make her pay for all the harm she does to honest people. I cannot understand the Electress speaking so freely to you about me and La Platen. There is something hidden which I hope to discover.”
“LOUVAIN, _October_ 17/27.
“I have arrived here at last, but have not yet got my leave. I don’t know what it means, for all the other officers who have asked have received it. I am determined, in case I do not get it, to demand my discharge. I may as well do so, since they seek a pretext of getting rid of me, and I can find again in the King of England’s service all I shall lose from giving up this. But what breaks my heart is that all the kings in the world will not console me for the loss of a goddess like you. Alas! what shall I do? If I enter that service I shall see you rarely, and how shall I exist? No, that cannot be! I would rather attach myself to the King of Sweden, for at any rate I should be nearer at hand, and could find means of seeing you oftener.”
[Illustration:
THE COUNTESS AURORA KÖNIGSMARCK. _From the painting in the possession of Count C. G. von Rosen._ ]
“_October_ 27.
“At last I have received three of your letters at once, and am greatly comforted, even though I see that all plot against me. I am more than satisfied with you, and I cannot understand how you got it into your head that you were forgotten—you who are charming above all women. What is more fervent than your ardour, more sure than your promises, more touching than your sighs, more tender than your love, more pleasant than your company, sweeter than your intercourse, and, in fine, more charming than your beauty? With so many perfections and attractions, how can you have the least doubt that I could ever leave you? Do not think it so light a matter, for my heart is full of your charms, and I respect you as much as I adore you. I give myself wholly to you—my body, my soul, my possessions, my honour: I sacrifice all for the love of you. But even thus I am not sure of you. You cause me many sorrows; but when I remember all our exquisite transports, all our sweet violence, I forget my grief. What ardour, what fire, what love have we not tasted together! Shall we ever enjoy those precious moments again?
“To answer you about the journey you are making.[181] I think you show too much eagerness to go, but since you wish it so ardently of course I approve. You had the same wish to go to Frankfort! If I were to tell you my true thoughts, I do not care too much for my lovely one to seek places of amusement at such an unhappy time; but what must be, must be—and, indeed, how can we prevent it? To comfort myself I whispered to my heart it was the very place for me to see you without being known; but it answered, ‘You will have only a moment, and the rest of her day must needs be given to others’.
“I don’t mind the Electress of Brandenburg’s talk, and the way you say you conducted yourself at her court charmed me, though I cannot quite believe it. But you do not tell me the names of the gallants who were there, and it is very vexing that you have not had my letters. The Prince will not join the others, but go to the Elector of Brandenburg’s. You are wise perhaps to put yourself right in that quarter, but to what end will it lead you? You have not enough strength of mind to alter your conduct. What do you mean to do? When we are the best friends in the world, the least rumour frightens you and makes you wish I were ten thousand leagues away; but then, when you reflect, you are sorry for your fears. This continual vacillation does not help us. Look at the Electress of Brandenburg. She lets the world talk till it is tired—till it no longer talks about her. Yet she has the same to fear as you.[182] As long as they know nothing _positively_, all will work for the best if you are courageous; but the least thing frightens you. How then can I give you any advice? You do me an injustice when you say that I am ‘engaging in new conquests’. I swear to you on my oath that so far from having any such intention, I have never been to visit any woman except the wife of my lieutenant-colonel, whom I cannot avoid calling on sometimes. I did, however, accept the supper invitation of the Elector and the Count of Nassau, and many light ladies were present, of whom I have told you.
“The tale about my house can only have originated with Countess Platen, and she may one day have to pay very dearly for her lies. I could revenge myself on her very well through Aurora’s lover, but I fear that might do harm, and I should not like to go to that extremity before I am forced to do so.”
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Footnote 182:
This is not quite fair, for the Electress of Brandenburg never attached herself to one man in particular and her numerous friendships were most of them intellectual.
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“TWO HOURS FROM DIST, _October_ 31.
“Here I am arrived at my garrison—the most barren spot in the world! I am lodged with the nuns; they are not like those of Venice, for they see only their nearest relations. I have not got my leave yet, but that does not worry me much; I shall be consoled if I get it soon. I should have gone about it without fail to-day, only I have hurt my foot and may have to rest here a few days. Still, it makes me rage, for I hoped to have gone before the Prince’s departure; now I cannot. See what bad luck I have! Were it not for a stout heart I should break down. Pardon me, I pray, for having advised you to forget me. I am too much your friend not to know I ought to do so; but it is no use. I _cannot_ give you up. I do nothing but weep. My beard is like a hermit’s; my nails are as long as if I were going to dig up my grandfather.... When my servant was combing my hair he found several, at least ten or twelve, grey hairs, which show how I take things to heart. Farewell.”
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Footnote 181:
Another visit to Lützenburg, near Berlin; this was deferred for a time (Colt’s _Despatch_).
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“DIST, _October_ 27/_November_ 6.
“I am in the most cursed hole in the world. I can get nothing I want, neither your letters nor leave from my regiment. I have to-day sent my equipage to Hanover, and am waiting for orders to start; the moment I get them I will post at once to the place where my love calls me. I am desperate at waiting so long for my leave, and will give up the service rather than remain here. If I am driven to that, what would you have me to do? Don’t think you will dissuade me, for my mind is made up, and if I leave the service I shall at least be able to see you secretly. I remember asking you whether you wish me to wear a wig or not; as you haven’t answered, I fear you have not got my letter. I am not expecting any more letters from you here, but I beg you to arrange so that I may find some at Hanover, at our good friend’s. Will _ma petite louche_ write a word or two about her journey, so that our friend may take precautions. I cannot live without you.... I have composed a song in German about my lovely one; I sang it at a party. I told the guests that the beautiful one was called Léonnisse, and they swore that they would drink their toasts to that name. That made me happier, and I drank with them. To make the wine pleasanter, I found an old red ribbon, rather faded, which I dipped into it. You know from whom the ribbon comes. This is the only hour I have had a little happiness for three weeks. I must have some if I am to live. When we meet you will win me back to my merry mood. No fear will make me falter, no obstacles hinder me; dangers will not weaken me—on the contrary, they will increase my passion, and hindrances will make the sweetness all the greater. That is how one should love. Love me likewise, and I shall be as happy as a king.”
All this time the court of Hanover was in great excitement about the electorate. The desire of years was now at the point of realisation, and Duke Ernest Augustus was daily expecting a notification from the Emperor that he had been invested with the electoral bonnet. The powerful support of the Elector of Brandenburg was now on his side. On the other hand, his arch-enemy, Antony Ulrich of Wolfenbüttel, was plotting with might and main against him, and pages of Colt’s entry book at this time are filled with tales of intrigue. The electorate was trembling in the balance. News from Vienna was alternately good and bad. The visit to Berlin was settled, then it was deferred, then it was decided upon again.[183] During this anxious period the Duke of Hanover and his eldest son went to Celle to take counsel with Duke George William, who was warmly supporting his brother.
Meanwhile Sophie Dorothea, who cared nothing for electorates, but whose whole soul was absorbed in her secret passion, was keeping up a constant correspondence with Königsmarck, and longing with eager impatience for his return. The Electress’s visit, the return of the Prince, and other matters had rendered it impossible for her to see Königsmarck, even if he should come back; but the visit of her husband and father-in-law to Celle at last gave her the opportunity for which she yearned. She wrote to Königsmarck entreating him to come to her at once, with leave or without it. On receipt of her letter he set out immediately, riding night and day. The following letters were written by him on the eve of, and during, the journey:—
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Footnote 183:
Colt’s _Despatch_, Celle, November 1, 1692.
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“DIST, _October_ 31/_November_ 10.
“Since you bid me lose no time in coming to you, I have determined to start at once, without waiting for leave, whatever may happen. It is not very prudent, for it will give them the pretext they seek; but since you wish to see me, I fly, I rush to the spot where you are. Why cannot I be there to-night? You relieve me of my forebodings by saying that with prudence and wisdom we shall be able to outwit our enemies. Let me know your plans, and I will give you my views. My life and happiness depend on them. I am sorry your letters were delayed, for I suck from them much sweetness. _Anima mia_, what can I do to prove my gratitude? How happy I am, mine angel, my divinity, my delight, my sole consolation! Your merits are beyond all else in the world, your charms above all the sex, your beauty equal to that of the goddesses. I cannot live without you any longer. I am dying to be near you; but there are yet many days. Adieu, my soul, my life. Adieu.”
_Pour la personne connue._
“SUNDAY, _November_ 6/16.
“This is to give you warning that I shall arrive to-morrow evening. You understand me, do you not? Should this fall into your hands before ten o’clock to-morrow morning, Monday, let me have a line or two from you. On receiving your letter I will act accordingly; but should you receive mine _after_ ten o’clock, I will await the usual signal. Farewell.”
“[_En route, later._]
“I hoped to have found post-horses here, but there are none. Therefore, instead of Monday, I shall not be with you until Tuesday, the 8th. Do not let the seal alarm you: I opened the letter. Though the hasty journey will have tired me to death, I cannot let the night pass without throwing myself at your feet. Do not refuse me my prayer, or I shall die. You will see me in a mean guise, but I hope you will not mind. I can come in secretly, without any one seeing me, and be hidden as long as you like. I only wait for a word in answer from La Confidente. I will come according to your usual signal. The answer can be sent to my secretary. He will know where I am; it will be given me without fail. Farewell. I am pining for the hour.”
Thus, after a week’s journey, hindered by many obstacles and delayed by the many subterfuges, Königsmarck entered Hanover by stealth in disguise, and the same night, all travel-stained and weary as he was, he found his way to the Princess’s chamber. The lovers met again after a separation of six months. They were fully aware of the risk they ran. What tears and sighs and shadow of parting must have been mingled with the joys of that brief hour’s reunion!
The next day Königsmarck doffed his disguise and reported himself to the Field-Marshal. As he had left his regiment without leave he fully expected to be sent away to his estates at Hamburg—a proceeding which would be tantamount to his dismissal from the Hanoverian service. He had furnished the pretext his enemies were seeking: he had had his hour and was prepared to pay the price.
But the Duke was away at Celle, and Marshal Podevils was Königsmarck’s very good friend, and was not disposed to press too hardly on his breach of discipline. Instead of sending him to Hamburg he ordered him to remain at Hanover. The lovers’ joy was unbounded, and for a few days they enjoyed one of their brief spells of happiness, unalloyed by jealousy and fear. The story of this is told in Königsmarck’s letters.
“[HANOVER,] _Wednesday, November_ 9.
“I was never more surprised or rejoiced in my life than at dinner, when Marshal Podevils ordered me not to go to Hamburg. I am still ignorant of his reasons, but I shall know to-morrow. I asked him to remember his orders in case they wished to refuse my request, that he might take my part. He reassured me on that account. I am the happiest man in the world. Fortune, who has turned her back on me so often, shows her face again, and I draw a good omen. Heaven be praised if our sorrows should end in this way and we should be able in future to live as we wish! You may be sure I slept well last night, for, as you saw, want of sleep was depressing me unduly. But I think you made allowance for a man overwhelmed by love, grief, and a thousand other emotions.
“Last night makes me the happiest and most satisfied man in the world. Your embraces showed me your tenderness, and I could not doubt your love. They still talk much about the journey to Berlin, and flatter themselves that the business at Vienna will end as they wish.[184] _Je reste inviolablement à vous._”
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Footnote 184:
The visit to the Elector of Brandenburg at Berlin and the Electoral investiture at Vienna by the Emperor.
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If Königsmarck were to remain unmolested at Hanover, it was necessary that he should win again the good-will of the Countess Platen and lull to rest her jealous suspicions. She was all-powerful, and, acting on the advice of the Electress of Brandenburg, Sophie Dorothea sought to conciliate her, and again advised Königsmarck to do the same. He at first refused with real or simulated indignation, but eventually yielded, and made his peace with her. The lovers then enjoyed a period of comparative immunity. Every person about the court was, in fact, too much occupied with business of high political importance to heed them and their affairs. Would the Duke of Hanover go to Berlin, or would he not? Would the Emperor invest him with the electorate, or would he not? These were the all-absorbing questions at Hanover. One was soon answered in the affirmative. On December 2 the Duke of Hanover set out for Berlin, accompanied by the Prince. Princess Sophie Dorothea was to have gone too, but at the eleventh hour, as she wished to remain with Königsmarck, she feigned illness. Her _ruse_ was completely successful. The court physician was called in, and the Princess was declared unfit to travel, kept at Hanover, and made to undergo a course of treatment. Königsmarck writes:—
“[HANOVER, _November_.]
“On rising from my mattress, which I found the softest bed of down, they gave me your letter, wherein I found, what I knew before, the most constant love in the world. Your many virtues set you above the goddesses, and your constancy raises you above your sex. I note that your answer to the one [Electress of Brandenburg] who proposed you should make it up with La Platen, was to the effect that if the Duke ordered it you would obey, though you did not see to what end. You ask me my feeling about the matter. I would never advise you to do such a thing, for it is beneath noble souls. But what grieves me is that while you think it a mean action on your part, you advise me to do it. I believe you wish to try me, and so I forgive you; otherwise I should be very angry with you for wishing me to do a despicable thing. Don’t imagine I will consent. I will not budge an inch from my determination for all the countesses in the world; but I am willing to aid your plan, since you hope for a happy ending. I am willing to be civil to her, even friendly, as in former times, if she be civil to me; but never could I make her believe I liked her, hating her as I do. Fie! it is beneath me. My transports of delight when I held you in my arms prevented me from realising the full force of your proposition; I find it so much beneath me that I refuse altogether, and beg you will say no more about it. How can I thank you, angel mine, for all your sweet favours? You have made me the happiest man in the world.”
“_November._
“You could not have given me pleasanter news. Though the journey will not take place,[185] I still owe you the same debt, but with this difference—if they shatter themselves with their politics, we shall not risk the same chance of being discovered. That may easily come to pass; indeed I hope to God they will break each other up. But, Madame, my joy is not without alloy, for Prince Ernest told me that the Prince assured him, if the journey to Berlin fell through, he would go to Aller. However, I would rather see you there than run the risk of being sent away from you, which would surely happen if we were discovered. My ill-luck follows me, and I see no hope of being luckier in the future. I could most certainly have come to you last night, but La Dondon[186] whispered to the Duchess’s _valet-de-chambre_, and I thought they were whispering about us, so I made up my mind to deprive myself of the happiness of being with you. I am very grateful to you for promising to appear this evening. Do come, that I may see the divine eyes that give me light. If you suffered at the comedy, I suffered more. I was dying to look at you, for I found you more beautiful than ever; but I dared not give my eyes that delight for fear of spoiling everything.
“The journey to Hamburg depends on your commands, and I will take them from your lips this evening. At the same time I will tell you all about my interview with La Platen—to rejoice you. I will only tell you now that at first our conversation was interrupted by her tears of rage, but I found a way of changing them to loving looks at your bidding. This was an outrage on my love for you, for which I mean to see you at my feet begging my pardon. You cannot love me as much as I love you, for at your bidding I have with her sinned against my love for you.”
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Footnote 185:
The journey to Berlin was postponed (_vide_ Colt’s _Despatch_, November 18).
Footnote 186:
_La Dondon_, the plump woman, a lady-in-waiting.
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“_November_ 29/_December_ 9 1692.
“I have heard nothing of your illness except that the Duchess told me you were very unwell, and the Prince said so too; in fact, every one thinks you are quite unequal to the journey. Mind you do not undeceive them! Everything goes well up to now; my throat is rather swollen, but that will not hinder me from seeing you, if you wish it, to-morrow evening. I am sorry you are so _triste_: why cannot I be with you to make you forget your pains? But, beloved, remember you are making the effort for a man who will be ever grateful to you, and who is convinced that he is loved by the sweetest woman in the world. To-night, between six and seven o’clock, I shall write to you again. Farewell.”
“_About_ _November_ 30/_December_ 10, 1692.
“Poor child! what are you not suffering? To be rubbed[187] without being ill is too much! I am really unworthy of the pain you are undergoing, and am quite crushed by all you tell me of your sufferings. Can I do nothing to deserve all you do for me? I call to witness all my tenderness, my love, my overwhelming passion, my devotion, hoping thus to be worthy. I would sacrifice myself a thousand thousand times, only too happy to seal with my blood the love I bear you, counting it an honour to lose my life for so sweet a woman. If my stupid verses can divert you and make you laugh, here they are. I will compose some every day:—
Du sagst Du liebst mich, Und ich anbet’ Dich, Da sind wir Beide vergnügt, etc.
“I have heard nothing new. The news from Vienna is good; they expect the courier every moment. The Prince is going; and every one pities you, poor dear! they are quite sure you are unable to go. Up till now everything goes on well. Tell me if you think it possible for us to meet to-morrow. They certainly spy upon us, but if we fear no surprises, _pour l’amour de Dieu_ let me see you! I cannot live so many days without a glimpse of you. I would rather die than lose my love.”
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Footnote 187:
“Pauvre enfant! Que ne souffrez-vous point! Suer, se faire frotter, sans avoir de mal c’en est trop.” Apparently a seventeenth-century form of massage.
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“_December_ 1/11.
“I could learn nothing about your journey. La Rose[188] said he thought it would be very inadvisable for you to travel, for your illness might come from your being _enceinte_, and travelling would be hurtful to you—even dangerous. La Court said she did not believe the Prince would go; but one cannot be sure about that—the only sure thing is that you must stop where you are. I will tell you more to-morrow. Arrange for some one to wait for me in the gallery at half-past eleven. I will write to you all I know, and you may be sure that after the sweet privileges you have given me I could never change. On the contrary, I love you a thousand times more every day. Your charms fire me so much that I can hardly live. I have the sweetest dreams about you. Farewell until to-morrow.”
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Footnote 188:
La Rose was the court physician.
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The Duke of Hanover’s journey was wholly successful, and if gratified ambition can make a man happy he returned to Hanover a happy man. The labours and the intrigues of years were at last crowned with success, the dearest object of his life was granted—he came back Elector. The news was eagerly expected. Colt writes: “A courier is come hither with the welcome news that the electoral bonnet was given on the 9th, and just now we have had advice that the new Elector will be here this day”.[189]
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Footnote 189:
Colt’s _Despatch_, December 20, 1692.
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The new Elector arrived as advised, and the whole city turned out to meet him. His entry was a triumphal procession. There were great court ceremonials: all the foreign envoys went in state to pay their respects to the Elector; there was a general thanksgiving in the churches and much firing of cannon.
In the court functions Sophie Dorothea—henceforth to rank as the Electoral Princess—was called upon to play her part. As she was naturally fond of gaiety, there is no doubt she rapidly recovered from her “illness,” and entered with zest into the spirit of the festival. Equally certain is it that Königsmarck’s jealousy was again aroused. He made little or no excuse for the exigencies of her position, and indeed would seem to have resented her access of rank as a personal affront; he was certainly jealous of her husband, if we may judge from the following remonstrance, which is perhaps better given in the French:—
“_December_, 1692.
“Princesse Electorale! L’on peut à présent vous nommer comme cela, car apparemment le prince Electoral vous aura investie de ce titre d’honneur cette nuit passée. Les embrassades sont-elles plus charmantes quand on est dans ce rang!... Je ne peux dormir de rage, qu’un prince électoral me prive du plaisir de voir ma charmante maîtresse. Je vous aurai félicité aujourd’hui de votre nouvelle dignité, mais je doute que votre époux ait fait son devoir, aujourd’hui, car si l’on doit juger de son empressement pour vous revoir, l’investiture ne sera faite qu’à six heures du matin. Je souhaite que celle-ci vous soit rendue immédiatement après vous aurez en fraîche mémoire les plaisirs électorals.... Hélas! je n’oserais vous faire souvenir de ceux que nous avons eus ensemble; ils vous paraîtront si minces (je me sers du mot _mince_, parce qu’une chanson dit: ‘Hélas, mon prince, que vos amours sont minces’) que vous n’en aurez plus l’idée.”
This letter brings the correspondence to a close for a time. Soon after the court festivities consequent on the Electorate came to a close, and Königsmarck left on a visit to his estates near Hamburg.
The year 1692 ended brilliantly for the House of Hanover.