Chapter XIV: The Princess’s Letters

My letters! all dead paper, mute and white!
ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.

I can but do as wills the spirit in me,
Which is your spirit’s servant. Ah! my lord,
My one love every way, my poor heart’s blood,
Breath of my lips, and eyesight of mine eyes,
How did I live the life that loved you not?
SWINBURNE.

The Duke of Hanover, astute time-server that he was, must have doubted at first whether he had done wisely in again throwing in his lot with King William, for victory everywhere attended the arms of Louis. The French king made rapid progress with the siege of Namur, and on the eighth day the virgin fortress surrendered to his conquering army. The citadel fell three weeks later. This victory marked the summit of the great monarch’s glory. Te Deums were sung in all the churches of France, and his camp rang with shouts of triumph. But even in this hour of victory there came to Louis a reminder that he was not everywhere invincible; for while he lay before Namur, his priests chanting, his cannon blaring, sounds of rejoicing reached him from the camp of the Allies—rejoicings over the naval victory of La Hogue, wherein the English admiral, Russell, had utterly routed the French ships, and shattered for ever James II.’s chances of reascending the throne of England. The French king affected to treat this reverse lightly, and a short time after retired to Versailles, leaving Luxemburg, the first general of France, in command of the army.

William hastened towards Namur in the hope of bringing relief, but he was too late. Between him and the already fallen fortress lay the troops of Luxemburg. The grand army of the Allies then took up their headquarters at Lambeque, and William was sometimes there and sometimes at Brussels. About six miles from Lambeque, at Steinkirk, Luxemburg had encamped with the main body of the French army. Thus the two armies remained throughout July, almost within sight of one another; but the country between was full of hedges and ditches, and neither would make the attack. The delay gave William one advantage: it afforded time for the laggard troops of his German allies to come up.

The Hanoverian troops, commanded by Prince George Louis and accompanied by Prince Christian, fifth son of the Duke,[105] and with Königsmarck in command of a regiment of foot-guards, began their march to Flanders the first week in June. On the day they set out the Duke of Hanover, accompanied by Prince George Louis and the English envoy Colt, went to the camp and held a grand review.

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Footnote 105:

For whom the Duchess Sophia wished the command of an English regiment,
which he did not get.

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The Duke of Hanover ordered a general thanksgiving to celebrate the victory of La Hogue and so testify his fidelity to the English king. To set the seal upon it, Colt gave a magnificent entertainment, a banquet and a ball. He writes:—

“The Duke and Duchess with all their courts have done me the honour to sup with me, when they and the greatest part of the city proclaimed their affection and good will to His Majesty.” And again: “My share in the affair [the general rejoicings] you will see at large in the paper apart [probably the bill] which I hope will be approved of. I have on this occasion given a greater diversion than ever they saw in this place.”[106]

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Footnote 106:

Colt’s _Despatches_, Hanover, June 20, 1692.

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Sophie Dorothea was present at Colt’s entertainment and took part in the festivities. Her husband, who went to Brockhausen after the review to take leave of the Duke of Celle, came back to Hanover on purpose to attend the celebrations, and a few days later he set out for Flanders. The Princess then left Hanover on a visit to her parents at Brockhausen; she remained there for some weeks. Prince Maximilian was also staying with the Duke of Celle, still in disgrace with his father, and urging his uncle to use his influence to save Moltke’s life. His prayers were unavailing. Moltke was executed at Hanover in the second week of July. and the court went to Luisburg—a country place of the Duke of Hanover, about twenty leagues distant—to be out of the way.

All this time, from the day of their parting, the Princess was in constant correspondence with Königsmarck, who was marching with his regiment to Flanders. He joined the grand army near Brussels about the middle of July, and his letters to the Princess were written from the camp and different halting-places on the line of march, while she wrote to him from Hanover and Brockhausen.

Whatever restraint Sophie Dorothea may have put upon herself in public converse with her lover, no trace of it appears in her letters. Believing that she was writing to him alone, she pours forth her soul in absolute abandonment. She gives herself to him so completely, so unreservedly, and withal so intimately, that one almost shrinks from laying bare this confession of woman’s love for man.

FACSIMILE OF ONE OF SOPHIE DOROTHEA’S LETTERS TO KÖNIGSMARCK.
_Photographed from the original manuscript in the University Library
of Lund._
NOTE.—This letter is in the Princess’s own handwriting—not copied by
Knesebeck.
]

_The Princess to Königsmarck._

“[HANOVER, undated.]

“I spent the stillness of the night without sleeping, and all the day
thinking of you, weeping over our separation. Never did a day seem so
long to me; I do not know how I shall ever get reconciled to your
absence. La Gouvernante[107] has just given me your letter; I received
it with rapture. Rest assured I will do even more than I have
promised, and lose no opportunity of showing you my love. If I could
shut myself up while you are away and see no one I would do so gladly,
for without you everything is distasteful and wearisome. Nothing can
make your absence bearable to me; I am faint with weeping. I hope to
prove by my life that no woman has ever loved man as I love you, and
no faithfulness will ever equal mine. In spite of every trial and all
that may befall, nothing will sever me from you. Of a truth, dear one,
my love will only end with my life.

“I was so changed and depressed to-day that even the Prince, my
husband, pitied me, and said I was ill and ought to take care of
myself. He is right,—I am ill; but my illness comes only from loving
you, and I never wish to be cured. I have not seen any one worth
mentioning. I went to visit the Duchess [Sophia] for a little while,
but returned home as soon as possible, to have the joy of talking
about you.[108] La Gazelle’s husband[109] came to wish me good-bye; I
saw him in my chamber, and he kissed my hand.

“It is now eight o’clock, and I must go and pay my court. How dull I
shall seem!—how stupid! I shall withdraw immediately after supper, so
that I may have the pleasure of reading your letters again, the only
pleasure I have while you are away. Farewell, my worshipped one. Only
death will sever me from you; all human powers will never succeed.
Remember all your promises, and be as constant as I will be faithful.”

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Footnote 107:

This must have been another name for the Fräulein von Knesebeck, _La
Confidente_.

Footnote 108:

_I.e._, with _La Confidente_.

Footnote 109:

_La Gazelle_ may have been Countess Lewenhaupt (so called because of
her gazelle-like eyes), whose husband was about to march with the Duke
of Celle’s troops to Flanders.

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“[HANOVER,] _June_ 12, _Sunday_.

“I have no news of you; I am restless, in despair, full of sad
forebodings. I cannot believe that you would willingly neglect me, you
have so deeply convinced me of your faithfulness; but I love you too
fondly to be free from the anxiety inseparable from such love. I am
not getting reconciled to your absence; it is intolerable, and nothing
can equal my grief at being so far from my adored one. I deluded
myself with the hope that I might have seen you after the review; I
could have done so in all liberty, as the Prince was away. That false
hope made me keep vigil two nights at the window, and every one who
passed I fancied was you. La Confidente kept telling me differently,
but I would hear no reason.

“I must give you an account of my day. I retired after dinner. In the
evening there was music, and I played a little,—that is all. You must
be pleased with my conduct.... Do not forget your oaths, nor let
absence lessen the love you swore to me, for I love you to madness,
and the mere thought that you may forget is enough to upset my reason.
Above all, be faithful to me, or I shall die. The Duchess to-day spoke
much of your beauty and the regularity of your features. Alas! I fear
me others will discover this comeliness too; it will cost me many
tears.

“I must end this. It is three o’clock, and I must go to bed. Never
doubt my fidelity; it is inviolable. I will live and die yours only.”

_Königsmarck to the Princess._

“[THE CAMP, undated.]

“You must let me complain, _ma chérie_, of the mean farewell you gave
me. My love deserved something far different; but if you had a heart
of ice you could not have given me a colder parting. I found the
company very lively at the camp, every one sword in hand, prancing to
the music of trumpets and kettledrums; but it all diverted me so
little that I wished myself twenty leagues away. My dejection was so
apparent that Monsieur Bielke[110] asked me what was the matter, and
why I would not drink a glass of wine with him. I told him that I knew
he was vexed about Aurora, and I was annoyed too, but I hoped he would
not blame me in any way, as I knew nothing about it. He embraced me,
and said he was sure I did not, but the pain she had caused him the
last two days surpassed everything; and much more—too long to write—I
will keep it for word of mouth. I will only add that he swore awful
oaths that he would never speak to her again. The clinking of glasses,
the noise of trumpets and kettledrums,[111] mingled with the softer
sound of flutes and the hoarse cries of men drinking, made the
drollest harmony in the world; but the revelry gave me opportunity to
hide myself in a corner and dream at will. Whilst the others kissed,
embraced, danced, stripped, and jumped on the tables, I thought only
of my sad plight, and I found it so miserable that, in spite of all
the festivity, tears sprang to my eyes and I was obliged to steal away
to go to bed. Three hours of absence from you have grieved me so much
that I am no longer master of my heart. I am so overcome with all
these emotions that I have been beside myself all the evening.”

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Footnote 110:

“Count Bielke (a Swedish envoy), the most dangerous man in these parts
... full of French designs.”—_Vide_ Colt’s _Despatches_, June, 1692.

Footnote 111:

“According to that old Teutonic fashion with which Shakespeare has
made his countrymen familiar, as often as any of the great princes
proposed a health, the kettledrums and trumpets sounded.”—Macaulay’s
_History of England_, vol. iv., p. 7.

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“[WHILE ON THE MARCH, undated.]

“In this unpleasant abode nothing could be so dear to me as your dear
letter. I read it again and again; I know it by heart, word for word.
It is charming and tender, and heals all jealous pains. Be as good as
your word, or you will never see your lover alive again.

“I knew the Prince was not returning to Hanover after the review, and
therefore determined to take the post to see you, but I was watched so
closely by a spy of Countess Platen that I dared not risk it. The
post-horses were ordered and ready, but I could not get rid of the
man, who is named Mesbuck. You may imagine my rage, for I dreamed of
the happiness of surprising you; but my plan miscarried. I have not
had a happy moment except those your delightful letter gave me. I am
an hour from Detmold. The Count sent a coach with six horses to meet
me, and a message to say I would find very pleasant company at his
house; but I excused myself on the ground that I was too tired. I did
not tell him that love fatigued me. My major went to the party in my
stead, and on his return told me all about the company, with whom he
was greatly delighted. He praised the ladies to the skies. Meanwhile I
had gone to bed to think over my sorrows. I found them piteous, and
trembled to see myself near the brink of an abyss. But why should I
worry you? I have told you so many times that I fear your inconstancy,
and you have so often reassured me, that I am a fool to doubt; yet I
always fear. Water falling drop by drop pierces the most stony heart,
and I am sure you will listen to me. You will give me your heart. You
must ward off evil at the beginning.

“In bidding farewell to us all, Marshal Podevils[112] spoke to me with
much friendliness and sincerity (it was between us alone), and he said
something which startled me greatly. He said he believed me to be a
man capable of much dissimulation, and he feared I had dissembled with
him. I was taken aback, and made him many protestations. He answered
that he wished to believe me, and promised his friendship; but, in
bidding good-bye, he again took me aside and said: ‘My dear friend,
may God guard thee, but take this advice from me: do not let thy love
ever hinder thee from thinking of thy fortune.’ I replied that
contentment had more charms for me than ambition; but he turned away
and answered nothing. He left me full of cruel suspicions. Try to find
out what it is all about, I implore you. Aurora’s letters predict
nothing good. Misfortune everywhere; but so long as one holds the
loved one, what matters the price?”

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Footnote 112:

Field-Marshal Heinrich von Podevils is spoken of in this
correspondence as _le bon ami_, the good friend of Königsmarck and
Sophie Dorothea; and indeed he was so. Marshal Podevils was born in
1615 in Pomerania, and took service in the Thirty Years War. His
military talent was first discovered by the famous Duke Bernard of
Saxe-Weimar. At the death of the Duke, Podevils entered the French
Army, and advanced rapidly in honour, and, because of his good
services, he was naturalised in France. But Podevils was a Huguenot,
and, in consequence of the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes, he left
the French Army, and took service under Duke John Frederick of Hanover
as Colonel-in-Chief of the Hanoverian Army. When Duke Ernest Augustus
succeeded to the Duchy of Hanover he appointed Podevils successively
General, Field-Marshal, President of the Council of War, and Governor
of the Royal Palaces of Hanover. Podevils died at Hamburg in 1696,
full of years and of honour. The fact that such a man was the true
friend of Königsmarck, and thought highly of him, speaks much in
Königsmarck’s favour.

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_The Princess to Königsmarck._

“[HANOVER,] _Monday_, 13.

“I have this moment received your letter—at last. I hungered for it; I
was sick with sadness. Nothing now gives me joy but the token that you
remember me: I am sensitive to that—all else is indifferent. _Grand
Dieu!_ what happiness it would have been if you could have come back!
I think I should have died of very joy. But, alas! it was not to
be....[113] This is not the only grief Countess Platen will cause me;
I believe all my troubles will come through her. What our good friend
Marshal Podevils said to you doesn’t make me anxious; it concerns me,
it is true, but he is an open and honest man, and we have nothing to
fear from that quarter. I am indeed grateful that you refused the
invitation to join the company at Detmold. It is charming that you
should think of me; I pray you continue to do so, and be sure I am not
unworthy. My one thought is how to please you, and I shall succeed. I
am in despair that Aurora has not....”[114]

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Footnote 113:

Some lines are missing here.

Footnote 114:

The letter is torn off here. Doubtless the Princess is beginning to
allude to Aurora’s intrigue with Count Bielke, mentioned in
Königsmarck’s letter.

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_Königsmarck to the Princess._

“IN THE COUNTRY OF TEGLENBURG, [_June_] 8.

“I should feel that I had committed a mortal sin were I to miss a
place where the post passes without assuring you of my very humble
obedience, though I can tell you of nothing but my love, and how
little life has for me when I am away from your sweet self. The
farther I am from you, the more I adore you. I fret night and day
without finding any comfort. Sometimes I wish the French would be
beaten, for then there would be a ray of hope that I should see you
again, because the King[115] would not require me; sometimes I wish
myself dead, since I have to live without seeing you. In this way am I
agitated day and night, without any hope of relief. What will become
of me, dear one, should my love drive me to madness? Comfort me in my
sad estate, and reassure me that I shall see you again—the most
gracious lady in the universe, the most constant, and the most
faithful. But I desire a constancy without any reproaches or any
coquetry.

“I dined at Monsieur Bussche’s[116] yesterday; the company was not
very choice—only some flighty people, so lively that they disgusted me
in my sad mood. Madame, his wife, dined with us. She is the best woman
in the world. I don’t know if you are well acquainted with her; she is
extremely thin, her age is fifty, but she is very witty, and her
conversation pleased me the more because it ran mainly on morality and
devotion. I certainly go in for the latter. I pray always that my
passion may not become fatal to me, and God may keep you constant and
make you an example to all your sex. I commend you to the Divine
protection to keep you straight, so that I may never be tortured by
thinking you behave badly. I hope to receive some of your letters from
Wesel.”

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Footnote 115:

King William III. of England, commanding the allied armies.

Footnote 116:

This Bussche must not be confounded with Bussche who married Catherine
Meisenbug (sister of Countess Platen), sometime the mistress of Prince
George Louis. That Bussche died in 1688, and, as we have seen, his
widow subsequently married General Weyhe. The Bussche above mentioned
was a kinsman. He was subsequently president of the court which
divorced the Princess Sophie Dorothea from the Electoral Prince.

A little later we find Colt also writing: “They have sent Monsieur
Bussche, one of their privy councillors, to the Elector of
Brandenburg, to press him to a speedy compliance with his former
promise.”—Colt’s _Despatches_, Hanover, June 26, 1692.

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_The Princess to Königsmarck._

“[HANOVER,] _Monday_, 20.

“At my awakening they gave me your letter. I found it charming,
loving, and all I would have it to be. Continue to feel as you write,
for if you change I will not live. When I think each step you take
removes you farther from me, I despair. Thousands of times I have
thought of following you. What would I not sacrifice to be always with
you! Alas! I should be too happy; there is no such perfect joy in this
world. I avoid all men, and speak only to women: pray do not thank me
for this, for I am pleased to do it. I never leave my chamber. I start
to-morrow,[117] and go this evening to bid farewell to the Duchess.
Prince Ernest is going to visit the Electress of Brandenburg, and
perhaps they will return together.

“If I were to tell you all I feel and how vast is my love, I should
never end; it is beyond all I can find words to tell, and I should
count myself happy indeed were your love to equal mine. I will not
preach to you to be faithful to me, it would be unavailing; but I
shall die if you are not. I have told you thousands of times that all
the peace of my life depends on your fidelity. You may find others
more lovable, but never one so loving; your slightest wish will be
always law to me. But why should you change? You are loved to
idolatry—your heart is sound. Farewell, _cher enfant_. You will be for
ever loved.”

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Footnote 117:

For Brockhausen.

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The next day the Princess left Hanover for Brockhausen on a visit to her parents. Colt mentions in his despatch of June 17 the fact that the Duke of Celle was staying at Brockhausen, thus corroborating the Princess’s letters, which are written from there after the 20th.

“BROCKHAUSEN [undated].

“The only joy left me now is assuring you of my unalterable devotion:
my love grows daily. I am glad to be in this quiet place, for it gives
me more time to think of you: my mind is full of you only. My father
and mother often speak to me, but I don’t hear them, for my heart and
my thoughts are far away—with you. I have not had a moment’s happiness
since you left; and when I think it will be four or five months before
we can meet again, I fall into a melancholy I cannot hide. Sad
forebodings crowd in upon me; I fear they will separate us for ever,
or put obstacles in the way of our happiness. I see myself on the edge
of a precipice (as indeed I am). If you saw my sad state you would
pity me.

“You may be easy about my conduct; nothing on that account need ruffle
your quiet or trouble your rest. To-day, for instance, scarcely was I
dressed than I had to dine. Afterwards I went to see my mother for a
little while, and then she sent me home.[118] Max[119] escorted me. I
left him in the antechamber; I did not stop a moment. He is more
stupid than ever; he was quite confused. My father came to see me and
showed me many attentions. I played with Chauvet.[120] We supped, and
then I retired, without staying to talk to any one. Good-night; I must
to bed. Alas! what sad nights since you left me! When I think of the
joys we shared together and my loneliness now, a great pang goes
through me. Be true, dear one,—all the happiness of my life hangs on
it. I live only for you.”

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Footnote 118:

The Duke of Celle’s hunting-box at Brockhausen was very small, and, as
the accommodation was insufficient, the Princess and her suite were
lodged in a house hard by.

Footnote 119:

Prince Max was staying with the Duke of Celle for a time, who was
trying to talk him to reason (_vide_ Colt’s despatches). The
Princess’s estimate of Prince Max’s character agreed in the main with
that of Colt, who, speaking of his share in the Moltke plot, says:
“Nor indeed was his [Prince Max’s own capacity very fit for it, though
he is a very worthy gentleman, and much improved since he hath been at
home these two years, having before lost his time by being too much
delighted with the pleasures of Venice, where he had been in service
five years.”

Footnote 120:

Marshal Jeremiah Chauvet was one of the Frenchmen whom the Duchess
Eléonore brought in her train to the court of Celle. He was not of
noble birth, but the son of a blacksmith in Lorraine. In 1670 the Duke
of Celle advanced him to the rank of colonel, and he became
successively major-general, general, and field-marshal.

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“BROCKHAUSEN, _June_ 25/_July_ 5.

“I hoped to have had news of you from Wesel, and am much cast down
because none came. I attribute it to the carelessness of your servants
at Hanover, for I scarcely think you would neglect me: at least, let
me flatter myself to that extent; it is the only consolation I have
left. When I think you love me I forget all the disasters which
threaten—but I shall worry you with my fears. My father and mother
overwhelm me with kindness, and, most reassuring, they have not
mentioned your name since I came here. I am rather surprised at this,
but I hope they are satisfied with what I told them before.

“I heard yesterday of the death of La Court’s[121] brother. It was a
shock, for I thought of you. Like you, he was young, he was well, yet
now he is dead. You cannot imagine my sad reflections: I fear for you
more than ever. If you truly love me, be careful of yourself for my
sake; for if anything happened to you, what would become of me? I
would not stay a moment in this world; life would be impossible. As it
is, since you went away, I lead only a lingering life; but I look
forward to seeing you again, and that hope brings consolation. What
would be left if I lost it? But I will not fret myself with these sad
thoughts; all my prayers and desires are for your safety. Day and
night, night and day, the good God is troubled with the prayers I
offer Him for you. If you but knew how intense is my love you would
pity me; it increases every moment, absence does not lessen it.
Without change or swerving I love you, and everything that touches
you, so tenderly, so perfectly, so _delicately_, that imagination
fails to tell.

“I take a positive delight in avoiding persons. My parents and
Bernstorff are pleased. They think I shun every one because I wish to
be with them; they little know it is because of you—that I may show
you my devotion and my love. They talk of going to Wiesbaden. My
mother wishes it, as her health is very indifferent, and my father
thinks of going too, and they want me to go with them. Let me know if
you approve. If you do not, they will find it difficult to make me go;
but as long as I please you the rest counts for nothing.”

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Footnote 121:

Probably some court lady at Hanover.

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_Königsmarck to the Princess._

“BORGUEM _on the_ 16_th_ [_June_].

“My courier has brought me a packet of letters without any from you;
it is incredible. The post goes by again to-morrow, and if I get none
it will nearly kill me. I hope my correspondent has sent them to
Antwerp. I have written to the Widow Goodsblut; but if it turn out
that she has none either I shall die of grief. Have you forgotten the
man who worships you in the space of a fortnight? I shall wait eight
days, and then, if I hear nothing, I shall know you love me no longer,
and I will hasten to the grand army (as soon as I know from Antwerp)
and seek a glorious death. Then you can boast that your unfaithfulness
has killed me. But first tell the world the promises you vowed to me,
and let that theatre judge if I were wrong in seeking death. Can it be
that God has made such a charming woman with so little fidelity? I am
like a man on whom sentence of death has been passed and who is
waiting for the hour of his execution. I hardly feel as if I were
alive. My mind is so troubled that I can scarcely finish this page.
Farewell, perhaps for ever!

“I am three leagues from Wesel. The post goes by again without any
letter from you. Cruel one! is it possible that you have such a
traitor’s heart, and forget me so soon?”

_The Princess to Königsmarck._

“BROCKHAUSEN, _June_ 27/_July_ 7.

“I do not deserve your reproaches; I shall never deserve them. I
cannot imagine why you accuse me of negligence, for even if you do not
receive my letters you ought to know me well enough not to lay the
blame on me. The fault is not mine, I assure you. Is it possible you
mean all you say? You occupy my heart solely and entirely; all the
rest is of so little account that I do not give it a thought. I have
written with all possible regularity; if I could have written oftener
I would have done so gladly, for my only pleasure is to make you
remember me and assure you of my love and faithfulness. But this place
[Brockhausen] is so far from every means of communication that it
greatly delays the joy of receiving your letters, and the same reason,
I fear, may lead to your receiving mine very irregularly; besides, the
floods are so great that the couriers cannot pass, and so they are
obliged to remain here all the week. I spend the whole day with my
mother, who talks to me of the danger of abandoning one’s self to
one’s _penchant_. I say ‘Amen’ to it all, and so get on well with her,
and all of them.

“I have a thousand fears about you. Chauvet told me yesterday that
according to all appearances there might be a battle to-day. You know
how I love you. Imagine, then, my state of mind when I think that the
only being I care for in the world, for whom only I live, is exposed
to thousands of dangers. If you love me, take care of yourself; I
should die if any accident were to happen to you. I am leading the
saddest life imaginable. The more change I have the more I find that
cure is useless, for everywhere I carry my love and my sorrow. The
burden is no easier for me in this peaceful place. I see no end to my
worries, and the time I have to get through without you seems an
eternity. But what joy when I see you again! It will be impossible for
me to moderate my transports; I fear everybody will see how much I
love you. It matters little, for you are worthy, and I never can love
you enough.”

_Königsmarck to the Princess._

“VENLO, _July_ 1/11, 1692.

“It is true, then, that you have forgotten me, and the pleasures of
the comedy, the music, and, what is worse, the foreigners,[122] are
the cause of your forgetfulness? I know it from Monsieur le
Prince,[123] with whom I dined to-day. I suppose this is the way to
love; but I, alas! cannot. I have neglected everything since I left
you; I have even forgotten to shave, and I went all unkempt to the
court quarter of the camp. Everybody stared. Even the Prince asked me
what was the matter, for he found me so haggard and worn. I pretended
that I had the colic; he little knew the truth. Until now I only
feared that you had forgotten me; but since I know that the
Piedmontese Count and the Austrian have arrived, I no longer doubt
your inconstancy. Cruel one! I know my rivals. Yes, I know them, and
that is sufficient. But you have to deal with a man who loves you to
distraction, and you made me believe you loved me in the same way. I
have neglected fortune, happiness, everything for you, and you treat
me like this! It is abominable. I will avenge myself and die. Yes, I
will avenge myself in such a way that the whole world will ring with
my wrongs. You wished to remain in your chamber to bewail my
departure. Your chamber became the opera house, your weeping came from
laughing overmuch, and your consolation, instead of reading my
letters, as you told me, was in hearing sweet things from others. It
is too much. I can bear no more. You drive me to extremities. I will
join the Elector of Bavaria’s service, and then seek those who have
stolen from me your ungrateful heart.”

-----

Footnote 122:

They were probably special envoys, who had come to Hanover on business
connected with the campaign against the Turks in the Morea, the
intrigues concerning the Electorate, and other matters. Colt mentions
that a Baron Eck came to the court of Hanover in June from the Elector
of Saxony, and also a Baron Hasfelt “on his way to France”.

Footnote 123:

Prince George Louis, who had now joined the troops.

-----

“VENLO, 1/11.

“I am sighing and trembling while I write this to you. I have no idea
how I stand with you, for I have received only one of your letters. I
am cursing my bad luck, but, alas! that does not give me comfort in my
misery.[124]... No, by Heaven! I will not lose you! I will move heaven
and earth before I give you up. Were you to change yourself into
Jupiter I would not fear the thunderbolt, but would try to avenge
myself on my rivals. I could not get leave to go to the grand army, so
I must wait until our troops march. It is annoying; but I bear all
with patience.

“My sister would like to know if the court is going in the autumn to
some baths, as she would greatly like to go to pay her respects to
Madame la Princesse. La Confidente says nothing about the
unfaithfulness of her good mistress, but that is only natural, for if
I cannot trust you, neither can I trust the people about you. But you
know well that God will punish you; there is nothing so certain as
that. Take heed therefore and beware.”

-----

Footnote 124:

Here follow pages of reproaches and upbraidings.

-----

_The Princess to Königsmarck._

“BROCKHAUSEN, _June_ 30/_July_ 10.

“Two of your letters reached me to-day, but instead of finding them
full of love, I found reproaches which I do not deserve nor shall ever
deserve. I cannot tell you my surprise at the tone of your letters. I
have done absolutely nothing since you left. I shall never do anything
all my life except what will be agreeable to you, for my one desire is
to make manifest the love I bear you. My constancy is without flaw,
and I am far from being the coquette you so unjustly call me. I could
not help bursting into tears when I read all the hard things you
wrote. What right or cause have I given you to have such a bad opinion
of me? Is it because I love you to adoration, because I neglect all
the friends I have in the world, because I have not heeded the
lectures and preachments of my parents, nor thought of all the
misfortunes that may come upon me through this? I cannot express to
you my grief. You hint at my pleasing people who may supplant you in
my affections; they assuredly do not deserve the honour you do them,
and I am ashamed to have to excuse myself on their account. I spoke
very little to the Piedmontese Count, and not a word to the Austrian.
I wrote to you very precisely about everything I have done and
everything I am prepared to do for you. I have sworn all the vows you
wished, to convince you thoroughly of my good faith. Nothing will make
me change. I love you far above what I can tell you, even when you
give me cause to repent. Yet you will attach yourself to the Elector
of Bavaria, you will forsake me, and all for a suspicion that has not
the least appearance of reason! Is this loving? Do you love me still,
or are you only seeking a pretext to leave me? If you still have
doubts it will be very easy for me to clear them away, for I have
taken no step nor done anything whereof my conscience is afraid. I
will gladly swear thousands of dreadful oaths to you on my innocence.
I shall have no peace until I know how I stand with you. If the
tenderest love and the most inviolable faithfulness will satisfy you,
you may be satisfied, for no love was ever so sincere as the love I
bear for you.”

_Königsmarck to the Princess._

“FOUR LEAGUES FROM VENLO, 5/15.

“The lieutenant who went to the court quarter of the camp brought me a
large bundle of letters. I was in highest joy, thinking surely I
should find some from you; but I was deceived, for I found nothing
except letters from Prince Ernest and from Marshal Podevils. Every one
is writing but you. I have reproached you so much that I will say no
more, except that you have been dancing at Colt’s _fête_.[125] I will,
however, wait for your letters from Antwerp, which I hope will clear
up everything. But you cannot excuse your behaviour at Hanover,
especially when the foreigners were there; and whatever the Duke might
have wished you to do, you ought not to have consented. This will be
the very last letter I shall write to you if I hear nothing from you.”

-----

Footnote 125:

Colt’s _fête_ was given on Sunday, June 18.

-----

_The Princess to Königsmarck._

“BROCKHAUSEN [undated (? _July_ 2)].

“I suffer agony, and can no longer bear the pain your unjust
suspicions cause me. You told me yourself to write only once to Wesel,
and all my other letters have gone to Antwerp. You ought, however, to
have received some of them. I know not to whom to attribute this
carelessness, but you are greatly in the wrong if you believe that I
have forgotten you. Time will prove my innocence and your injustice. I
am hurt to the quick, for since your departure my only thought has
been how best to show you my fidelity. I am grieved that you are
displeased because I went to Monsieur Colt’s _fête_, but I could not
avoid going, they pressed me so much. The foreigners did not detain me
at Hanover; they left a few days before I came to Brockhausen; I have
already told you I did not talk to them. I am incapable of deceiving
you, even in thought; I love you too passionately. Yet you believe I
betray you. You will not write to me. You plunge me in despair. How do
I know? What if some one has held back my letters to make us quarrel?
I have thousands of evil forebodings and many fears, but you cap them
all and overwhelm me with grief by believing me guilty. Ought it even
to enter your mind that I should fail in the love I bear you? I would
rather fail to myself, for you are a thousand times dearer to me.

“Unfortunately the floods still detain us here.[126] I am grieved
because of my letters. We may be here for a week, perhaps.”

-----

Footnote 126:

“The extraordinary floods have kept the Duke from Celle.”—Colt’s
_Despatches_, July 4, 1692.

-----

“BROCKHAUSEN, _July_ 7.

“We start to-morrow for Celle, where I hope to find some letters from
you; I am in sore need of them to deliver me from this anxiety. I have
not a moment of peace. I am trembling for fear we are betrayed; but
what I fear most of all is your violent temper, which will not let you
reflect in the least, nor give a thought without at once believing me
guilty. This suspense is driving me mad. To-morrow I shall know what
to expect. If I find nothing I am lost. Good-bye.”