PLAYING WITH FIRE.
(1689.)
Yet this joy, waited on by fear and doubt,
Plucked casually as by a flower of accident,
On the rough lip and edge of danger’s breach,
How sweeter is it than the rose to smell
We gather from our garden with gloved hands,
And find nor thorn, nor perfume!
SWINBURNE.
On his return to Hanover Königsmarck set up a sumptuous establishment.
He took a house not far from the ducal palace, in a street that was then
one of the principal in Hanover, but which is now one of the few bits of
the old town remaining. His beautiful sister, the Countess Aurora, came
to stay with him, and his married sister and her husband, Count
Lewenhaupt, paid him frequent visits. In addition to his lands in
Sweden, Königsmarck had inherited a large estate near Hamburg, and
frequently travelled there from Hanover. Some idea of his establishment
may be gathered from the fact that his secretary, Hildebrand, mentions
on one occasion that Königsmarck was attended by a retinue of
twenty-nine servants and fifty-two horses and mules. Where money was
concerned Königsmarck was absolutely reckless; his love of pleasure and
display amounted to a passion, and the result was, notwithstanding his
large fortune, he was often in need of ready money, and had to raise it
at ruinous interest. At present his fortunes showed no shadow of
embarrassment. Hanover was dazzled by the advent of this wealthy
foreigner; the splendour of his retinue, the magnificence of his
entertainments, and the beauty of his sisters were on every tongue. His
fortune was magnified tenfold, and indeed it seemed inexhaustible. At
court, at the chase, at the opera, in the ballroom, at the carnival,
Königsmarck carried all before him; he was the central and brilliant
figure.
[Illustration: _From the painting at Herrenhausen._]
Duke Ernest Augustus marked his appreciation of the wealthy foreigner by
appointing him a colonel of his Hanoverian guards. As the troops of the
ducal brothers were allied in accordance with the treaty of 1676,[33] he
was sometimes with his regiment at Hanover, and sometimes at Celle,
though he was more particularly in the service of Hanover. The post gave
him free access to the palace, and was considered one of the most
honourable about the court, elevating its holder to what was known as
the third degree. Though highly ornamental, it was no sinecure; the pay
was not large, and in Königsmarck’s case it may have been honorary to
avoid jealousy at the promotion of a foreigner. And there was plenty to
do. The air of Hanover was full of the noise of military preparations,
and the prospect of active service was especially attractive to
Königsmarck. It was probably one of his objects in taking the colonelcy
of the guards; for though his pleasure-loving soul delighted in the
glitter of courts, the camp had its charm for him too. He was a daring
and a skilful soldier, an expert in the profession of arms, and many
kings would have been glad of his services.
-----
Footnote 33:
A doubt has been raised as to whether Königsmarck was ever in the army
of Brunswick-Lüneburg at all, in consequence of the trouble which was
taken subsequently to erase his name from all official documents of
Hanover and Celle relating to the troops. But the doubt is settled by
the auditor of his regiment, named Rudiger, in his evidence in the
Secret Senate Chamber of Hanover on July 27, 1694. Rudiger stated he
had served in a regiment of foot-guards commanded by Königsmarck in
Flanders. He had also served in a regiment of dragoons in which
Königsmarck held the same rank. This document may be found in the
Archives of Saxony, Royal Courts of Justice, Dresden. The
correspondence of Colt, sometime English envoy at Hanover, also (as we
shall shortly show) contains reference to Königsmarck as holding a
commission in the Hanoverian troops. This correspondence is in the
State Paper Office, London.
-----
Königsmarck struck up a friendship with the young Princes of
Brunswick-Lüneburg, notably with Prince Charles, the favourite son of
the Duchess Sophia; and later he was very friendly with Prince Ernest,
the youngest of them all, who was many years his junior. Königsmarck was
about the same age as the eldest Prince, George Louis, and some six
years older than the Princess Sophie Dorothea, who was at this time in
her twenty-fourth year. His intimacy with Prince Charles, who was a
great friend of Sophie Dorothea, threw him frequently in her society.
The memory of their early friendship helped matters considerably. He and
the Princess had many things in common; they both possessed a love of
things beautiful, and their tastes were artistic and refined. This
refinement showed itself in Königsmarck’s dress, equipages, and
entertainments. His love of display never degenerated into vulgarity, he
could boast of all the superficial accomplishments, his manners and
address were graceful, and on things in general he was remarkably well
informed. In other ways Sophie Dorothea and Königsmarck were curiously
alike. Both possessed highly strung and mercurial temperaments. Both
were extravagant—Sophie Dorothea’s expenditure formed the subject of
many a lecture from her husband. Both loved amusement, fine clothes,
lavish entertainment, balls, plays, dances, and continual excitement.
Both were impulsive, emotional, imprudent, and thoughtlessly generous.
Sophie Dorothea was much beloved by the poor in Hanover and Celle for
her kind heart, which was always ready to respond to the cry of
suffering and distress. Her indiscriminate almsgiving was another
grievance against her. It can easily be imagined how these two persons
contrasted with the cold, sluggish natures around them, and the stiff
routine of the German court. If we bear in mind all the forces at work,
and the surrounding circumstances, the trend of subsequent events appear
almost inevitable.
The Princess was very unhappy, and welcomed Königsmarck as a friend. He
was not backward in assuring her of his respect and devotion; his
society was pleasant to her, and his evident homage flattered her
vanity. But at this time there certainly was not, in the conduct of
Sophie Dorothea, anything which would warrant the impression that a
deeper feeling than friendship existed. In a court of many intrigues
their friendship simply meant that Königsmarck ranged himself with the
adherents of the Princess. Her health was not good, and she spent many
hours in retirement with her children. Königsmarck and Prince Charles
would come to see her, and amuse her by telling her the gossip of the
day. The Princess never saw any one alone, but always in the presence of
her lady-in-waiting, and the pages were in waiting in the antechamber.
There was no impropriety in Königsmarck’s visits, and none was at first
imagined; but it was playing with fire, for in time the Princess began
to speak to her friend of her husband’s ill-treatment and neglect. His
conduct was open and notorious, so there was no concealment in the
matter; but though perhaps natural, it was very imprudent for her to
take Königsmarck into her confidence—it is a commonplace that a handsome
young man is about the worst counsellor an ill-used wife can find.
Königsmarck, of course, sympathised deeply, and expressed his
indignation in no measured terms (what man would not?), but his
championship did more harm than good. He seems to have had at this time
some idea of provoking George Louis to fight a duel with him, and so rid
Sophie Dorothea of an unsympathetic husband. It is related that on one
occasion, when Königsmarck was holding forth before a large company on
the superior splendour and attractions of the court of Dresden, Prince
George Louis sarcastically asked him why he ever left it. Königsmarck
retorted: “Because I could not bear to see a prince destroy the life and
happiness of his good and beautiful wife by neglecting her for an
impudent and worthless mistress!” The company gasped at the audacity of
the answer, for though it was true of the Elector of Saxony it had a
double application; but cold and sullen George Louis ignored the affront
for the time being, though he never forgot it nor forgave it.
Königsmarck made his appearance at Hanover at a critical time in the
fortunes of the duchy. Duke Ernest Augustus might well be excused
overlooking domestic squabbles in the face of the wider politics which
were confronting him. The peace of Europe was trembling in the balance.
The great European coalition was forming against Louis XIV., and the
Duke of Hanover was temporising as to whether he would cast in his lot
with the French King or with the Allies. On the surface there does not
seem to have been any ground for his hesitation; the ties of religion,
of blood, of race, of honour, would naturally bind him to the coalition.
But these things were nothing to Ernest Augustus in comparison with the
promptings of self-interest, and he determined to sell his support to
the highest bidder.
The dispute between the French King and the Emperor Leopold had reached
an acute phase. On the death of the Elector Palatine, Louis XIV. had
successfully invaded the palatinate; but his position was uncertain at
the close of 1688, and, urged by the infamous counsel of Louvois, he
determined to devastate that fair province. Villages were burned,
churches wrecked, and thousands of families turned out of their homes
and suffered to perish from cold and hunger. The beautiful castle of the
Elector Palatine at Heidelberg and the fair town of Mannheim were
reduced to ruins. The wanton spoliation and sacrilege, the cruelties and
barbarities committed by the French army aroused the indignation of
Europe. It seems incredible that Ernest Augustus, considering how
closely he was connected with the palatinate through his marriage,[34]
could have hesitated for one moment on which side to throw in his lot.
But he hesitated.
-----
Footnote 34:
The Duchess Sophia was the daughter of one Elector Palatine (the
“Winter King” of Bohemia) and the sister of another.
-----
The crusade against the French King was almost a Holy War. Louis’s only
ally in Europe was the Sultan of Turkey, whom he assisted against the
House of Austria, and whose Moslem cruelties to Christians were rivalled
by this “Most Christian” King in the atrocities which his army committed
in the palatinate. All Europe cried for vengeance. The Emperor Leopold,
Catholic though he was, made common cause with the Protestant William of
Orange, now King of England. The King of Spain followed suit, and the
German princes, both Catholic and Protestant, one by one allied
themselves against the King of France. The Grand Monarque had no one
left on his side but the Sultan, and the exiled King James II. of
England, whose reproaches from St. Germains to their Catholic Majesties
of Austria and Spain for allying themselves with “that Protestant
usurper and enemy of Holy Church, William, Prince of Orange,” were
without avail. The King of France had proved himself a standing menace
to the liberties of Europe, and in the common effort to check his
aggression all minor differences gave way. Though the Emperor Leopold at
first took the lead, William of Orange was the heart and soul of the
European coalition against Louis. It was largely the result of his
skilful negotiations; and many times when it was at the point of
breaking up, his statesmanship held it together.
In the face of so powerful a European combination as this it would seem
that the action of a petty state like Hanover mattered little. To the
Emperor Leopold it mattered a good deal; it was not merely a question of
Hanover only, but of Hanover and Celle, for the troops of the ducal
brothers were allied, and they had shown their mettle in many a
hard-fought campaign. Besides, if Hanover and Celle, so nearly allied to
the palatinate, stood aloof, other little states might do the same, and
the unity of the German confederation would be broken. To William of
Orange it mattered something, too, for the House of Hanover was nearly
allied to the Stuarts, and if it made common cause with the protector of
the exiled King James, his influence in England would be sensibly
weakened.
Ernest Augustus, wily diplomatist that he was, estimated the advances of
these powerful potentates at their true value. They wished for his
support; he was willing to sell it, but at a high figure. His spouse,
the estimable Sophia, also took a hand in the game. Each had a coveted
desire. The price Ernest Augustus demanded of the Emperor was the
electoral dignity; Sophia asked of William of Orange a clearer
recognition of her claim to the succession to the throne of England. The
Emperor demurred. There were then eight Electors in the German Empire:
two Protestant, Saxony and Brandenburg; three Roman Catholic, Bohemia,
Bavaria, and the Palatinate; and three spiritual, the prince-archbishops
of Metz, Treves, and Cologne. The Emperor had no constitutional power to
add to their number, though he might do so by ä stretch of prerogative.
Besides, if such an Elector were elected, or rather created, the elder
branch of the House of Brunswick—Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel—had prior claim.
But Ernest Augustus remained firm. He even began negotiations with
Versailles, and Sophia, no whit behind her spouse in intrigue, opened up
a correspondence with St. Germains. These tactics were successful; both
the Emperor and William came to terms. The Emperor promised the dignity
of Elector to the House of Brunswick-Lüneburg, but under heavy
stipulations. The Dukes of Hanover and Celle bound themselves to support
the Emperor against the French King and also against the Turks in Morea,
and to pay annually five hundred thousand thalers; to furnish a force of
nine thousand men, and to uphold the Hapsburg dynasty in its dynastic
disputes. The Emperor held back the formal bestowal of the coveted
honour till a more convenient season, but he made a binding promise.
William of Orange promised to advance the Duchess Sophia’s chances of
succession to the English throne when he could, and (what was far more
important to Ernest Augustus) to use his influence for the House of
Hanover with the Emperor. Thus did Hanover join the confederation
against France.
These matters settled, events moved rapidly throughout the winter of
1688 and spring of 1689. Hanover resounded with military preparations,
and there was a continual coming and going of ministers and envoys, for
the Allies hostile to France were in constant communication with one
another. The manifesto of the German confederation was published in
February, that of the States General in March, that of Brandenburg in
April, and that of Spain in May. England followed suit in the same
month, and the great war between the Allied Powers and France was
declared, which did not end until the Peace of Ryswick, 1697.
Meanwhile another event, more directly bearing on the fortunes of the
House of Hanover, took place in England. The Act of Settlement was
passed by Parliament, and though this Act did not specify the Duchess
Sophia and her heirs by name, it expressly excluded any Roman Catholic
prince from ascending the throne, and vested the crown in the Protestant
succession. William and Mary were childless, Anne was in feeble health
(the Duke of Gloucester, her short-lived son, was not yet born), and so
it seemed in the course of nature that, if the Protestant succession
were upheld, the crown must ultimately devolve on Sophia or her children
as the Protestant descendants of the Stuarts in the line of succession.
William also intimated that, when occasion served, he would do more in
the matter.
The Duchess Sophia received the news with the liveliest feelings of joy,
and even Ernest Augustus was not insensible to the importance which
accrued thereby to the House of Hanover. Prince George Louis remained
unmoved; he had not forgotten his unsuccessful mission to England seven
years before. Prince Max, always in opposition, avowed himself an ardent
Jacobite; the other young princes probably did not trouble about the
matter at all. In default of a more sympathetic audience, therefore, the
Duchess Sophia turned again to her daughter-in-law, Sophie Dorothea, and
expatiated on the brilliant possibilities before her. Poor Sophie
Dorothea, who was ill and unhappy, proved even more indifferent than her
husband; the prospect of the English crown was much too vague to allure
her, and England was little more than a name. The Duchess Sophia had
again occasion to remonstrate with her daughter-in-law on her lack of
interest in a matter which affected not herself only, but her children.
By way of emphasising the importance of the Act of Settlement, William
appointed Sir William Dutton Colt to be Envoy Extraordinary to the
Princes of Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel and Brunswick-Lüneburg. Colt was
charged with the mission of representing England at the courts of
Hanover, Celle, and Brunswick, and of keeping their respective princes
well disposed towards the great Alliance. No easy task, it must be
admitted; for all the princes pulled different ways, and the perpetual
journeys from Hanover to Celle, and Celle to Brunswick, to say nothing
of following the Duke of Celle in his ceaseless movements to
Brockhausen, Wienhausen, and Göhre, would have worn out any but a strong
man. As it was, we soon find Colt complaining of the “perpetual motion”
of the court of Celle.
The new envoy arrived at Celle in July, 1689. He was received by the
Duke and Duchess “with all y^e respect and ceremony imaginable,” but his
first impressions of Celle were indifferent. “The town,” he writes, “is
very poor, and all y^e country round nothing but a deep sand and wood of
small fyr trees, full of all sorts of wild beasts, which with the Duke’s
passion for hunting makes him reside constantly here and at some little
houses he has in y^e neighbourhood. I fear to pass a very miserable
winter here, in extreme cold and very ill houses.”[35] But Hanover
cheered his spirits. “This place,” he writes, “has much more the
appearance of a court, and the town much larger and finer, people laying
out their money in building and furnishing their houses, besides
abundance of strangers resorting constantly hither.”[36] And again:
“Nothing can be happier than we are here, all the court and the
ministers showing us all imaginable kindness”.[37] His secretary, De la
Roque, was even more enthusiastic. “Yesterday,” he writes, “Sir William
Colt had an audience with the Duke and Duchess and Princess of Hanover
[Sophie Dorothea], who received him with every mark of respect due to
him as His Majesty’s envoy. This court is as splendid as any in Germany;
genius and civility reign here. The Duchess Sophia is _une personne
incomparable d’un esprit, d’une bonté, et d’une civilité à charmer_. She
speaks all living languages as well as her own. Her beautiful daughter
[in law], the Princess, is both accomplished and agreeable.”[38]
-----
Footnote 35:
Colt’s _Despatch_, Celle, July 19, 1689.
Footnote 36:
Colt’s _Despatch_, Hanover, July 26, 1689.
Footnote 37:
_Ibid._, Hanover, July 30, 1689.
Footnote 38:
_Letter of De la Roque_, July 26, 1689.
-----
Soon after this the Duke and Duchess of Celle paid a visit to the court
of Hanover. The two brothers had much to talk about in connection with
the part they were to play in the great war and the intrigues for the
electorate. It is more than probable the Duke of Celle thought at this
time that, as he was the elder brother, the Emperor would confer the
Electoral dignity on him, and he was so foolish that the cunning Ernest
Augustus, with the aid of his unscrupulous tools Bernstorff and Platen,
could hoodwink him as much as he pleased. He seemed to be rapidly losing
any will of his own, and he became more and more the pawn of his
ambitious and scheming brother. Proportionately as the Hanoverian
influence waxed, that of the Duchess Eléonore waned, and she had now no
voice in affairs of state and comparatively little in matters of a
purely domestic nature. The Celle-Wolfenbüttel combination had long ago
fallen to pieces, and George William’s dislike of Antony Ulrich was not
far short of Ernest Augustus’s hatred of the same prince. Between the
courts of Brunswick and Hanover there existed the most intense jealousy.
The records of the time reveal a network of intrigue, bribery,
treachery, and falsehood between these petty German courts which has
seldom been equalled and never surpassed; the restricted area and the
pettiness of the disputes added intensity to the bitterness.
The Duchess Eléonore was not a very welcome guest at Hanover; but the
Duchess Sophia had by this time sufficiently masked her animosity to
receive her with civility, and, indeed, on account of their
grandchildren, little George Augustus and Sophie Dorothea, common sense
told the older people that it would be well to dissemble their dislikes,
and there was nothing to be gained by perpetual strife. It had no such
lesson for the Prince and Princess of Hanover, whose dislike for each
other seemed to increase as time went on; and though Duchess Eléonore
had abundant love and sympathy for her unhappy daughter, we find her
henceforth preaching prudence and patience to her, and urging her, for
her children’s sake, to make the best of her lot.
There were many festivities at Hanover in honour of the visit of the
Duke and Duchess of Celle, and among them the Prince and Princess of
Hanover gave a ball to which the court and nobility were invited.
Everything was done on a scale of magnificence. Duke Ernest Augustus and
the Duchess Sophia with a numerous suite attended in state, and sat on a
raised dais with their honoured guests. The Duchess Eléonore must have
felt that at last she was a duchess indeed, especially if she contrasted
these flattering attentions from her haughty kinsfolk with their former
snubbings and insults. The evening began with a play—probably a pastoral
with dances; then there was a procession to the banqueting-hall, and
after supper Sophie Dorothea opened the ball with her father the Duke of
Celle. The Duchess Sophia and the Duchess Eléonore did not dance, but
sat apart on the dais. Duke Ernest Augustus was too stout, so George
Louis led out the Countess Platen, as _vis-à-vis_, she being the
greatest lady present after their Serene Highnesses, and it is recorded
that the splendour of her jewels and attire far outshone those of the
ducal party. When the first set dance was over, the dancing became more
general, and Königsmarck and the Princess stood up for a minuet.
Königsmarck wore a suit of pink and silver, while the Princess appeared
as Flora, all in white, with no jewels and a wreath of natural flowers.
They made so handsome a couple, and withal danced so exquisitely, that
they called forth the admiration of the whole company. Indeed, the
Countess Platen was so struck by the grace of Königsmarck’s dancing and
the beauty of his person that when the dance was over, she went up and
complimented him in most extravagant terms before the whole assembly, to
which Königsmarck, who was nothing if not gallant, replied in a fitting
manner. The incident did not fail to attract the notice of the court,
except that of Ernest Augustus, who seemed blind and deaf where his
favourite was concerned.
From this hour Königsmarck’s intimacy with the Countess Platen ripened
rapidly—an intimacy which may be palliated, but certainly cannot be
excused. He became a frequent visitor to Monplaisir, where drinking was
deep and play was high. The Countess was always willing to win a little
money from her admirers (it was the recognised way of buying her
favours), and before long rumour spread the tale that an intrigue
existed between the two. It is difficult to say what was the truth of
the matter. The Countess Platen must at this time have been about forty
years of age, but she was at the height of her opulent charms;[39] she
had power, wealth, and the art of making herself pleasant and
fascinating to men, and she was not troubled with any scruples.
Königsmarck was neither better nor worse than other young nobles of his
day, and the probability is that Poellnitz’s narrative is in the main
true, and in an unguarded moment Königsmarck threw over his good
intentions and discretion.[40]
Thackeray also says of Königsmarck that “a greater scamp does not walk
the history of the seventeenth century”; but there is nothing to show
that Königsmarck was any greater scamp than his contemporaries; in many
things—notably in his bravery, his generosity, and, later, his fidelity
to a great love passion—he was better than most of them.]
-----
Footnote 39:
Thackeray calls her a “hideous old court lady”; on what authority I
know not. She certainly was not old at that time, and far from
hideous. There is a picture of her at Herrenhausen in a rich crimson
robe, a fine voluptuous-looking woman, with black hair and an ample
bust, just the sort of woman one would expect her to be. Curiously
enough the picture hangs immediately beneath that of Königsmarck.
Footnote 40:
Poellnitz asserts that on receiving the Countess Platen’s compliments
on his dancing at the ball, “Königsmarck comprit tout le sens de ces
paroles, et la passion qu’il avoit pour la Princesse ne le rendit pas
insensible aux avances d’une aussi belle personne que la Comtesse. Il
lui répondit qu’il étoit confus des bontez qu’elle vouloit bien avoir
pour lui qui le méritoit si peu, et que puisqu’elle lui permettoit de
l’aller trouver le soir.... Königsmarck fut chez la Comtesse, qu’il
trouva en deshabillé sur un lit de repos. Elle se leva et ayant laissé
toute modestie, elle courut l’embrasser, en lui avoüant sa foiblesse
et lui faisant voir tant de charmes, que Königsmarck ne se fit point
scrupule de répondre à sa tendresse. Le jour étoit prêt à paroître
quand il se retira chez lui. Il se jetta sur son lit pour y prendre
quelque repos, mais ce fut en vain, et il se reprochoit
continuellement d’avoir été sensible aux charmes de l’ennemie déclarée
de la Princesse” (_Histoire Secrette de la Duchesse d’Hanover_, pp.
80-81).
-----
Königsmarck was soon smitten with remorse. He could not ignore the fact
that his intimacy with the bitterest enemy of the Princess must look
very much like treachery in Sophie Dorothea’s eyes, and he sought an
audience to make excuses to her for his conduct, declaring, not very
ingenuously, that it was necessary to win the favour of the Countess if
he were to be of any real service to the Princess. The Princess answered
coldly that it was a matter of indifference to her how he spent his
time, or with whom, and he was wise to pay his court to the mistress, as
she could prove a much more powerful and influential friend than she
(the Princess) could ever be. Indeed, she went on bitterly, she had no
friends; she was betrayed and deserted on every side. Only recently she
had craved leave to return with her father and mother to Celle for a
time, but, through the interference of Countess Platen, Ernest Augustus
had refused permission, and she must needs remain in Hanover surrounded
by enemies. She burst into tears, and Königsmarck, smitten by
self-reproach, became scarcely less agitated, and vowed with great
fervour his respectful homage and lifelong fidelity to her interests.
Just at this point Prince Charles came in to pay his respects to Sophie
Dorothea, and, finding both his sister-in-law and Königsmarck violently
agitated with an emotion they were unable to conceal, his suspicions
were aroused. He was a well-wisher of both, and, though he said nothing
to the Princess, when the visit was over he took Königsmarck aside, and
warned him that the path he was treading was a dangerous one, and it
behoved him to walk more warily.
Königsmarck thought so too. His passion for the Princess was growing
daily, and threatened to outstep all bounds of discretion. He was not
wholly selfish; he loved her with all the love he was capable of
feeling, and he began to see that his presence, so far from serving her
cause, was likely only to increase her difficulties. His brief-lived
intrigue with Countess Platen filled him with disgust and remorse; he
was at his wits’ end to repel her advances with civility, and there were
the elements of danger in it too, for should Ernest Augustus suspect
anything, his career at Hanover would be closed for all time. The only
way out of the dilemma was a temporary absence.
The opportunity soon came. In accordance with his treaty with the
Emperor Leopold, Ernest Augustus, who this summer had sent troops to
Flanders, and his eldest son, George Louis, to the Rhine, was also
sending, in the autumn of 1689, some regiments of his famous Hanoverians
to the Morea, to fight with the Imperial forces against the Turks, and
Prince Charles, Königsmarck’s bosom friend, was to accompany them. What
more natural than that Königsmarck should volunteer to go too,
especially when the Duchess Sophia made an appeal to his friendship and
entreated him not to suffer her best-loved son to face the perils and
dangers of this far-away campaign alone? He at once craved permission to
serve with the Hanoverian troops in the campaign, and it was granted.
Dearly as he loved military adventure, he did not go without sadness and
misgiving. It was hard for him to tear himself away from the object of
his passion; and, as the day of departure drew near, his depression was
noticeable to the whole court, and the more inexplicable because he had
come to Hanover with the reputation of being a brave and keen soldier.
The Countess Platen remonstrated with him on his decision; she had no
wish to lose so amiable a gallant. He told her coldly but civilly that
his determination was unalterable, and doubtless in his absence she
would forget him. With the Princess his leave-taking was more difficult.
Unaware of the depth of the feelings he entertained for her, and seeing
in him nothing but a sincere and devoted friend, Sophie Dorothea did not
hesitate to express her regret that he was leaving her at a time of
great stress and difficulty, when she had most need of his counsel and
advice. She besought him to take care of himself and return quickly, for
she saw before her a time of sore tribulation when she would need to the
utmost all her friends. Königsmarck was so moved by these gracious words
that he had great difficulty in restraining his emotion; as it was, he
contented himself with vowing again his devotion and fidelity to her
interests, and bade her adieu.
The rigours of an early winter had set in, the snow was lying on the
plains around Hanover, when Königsmarck and Prince Charles set forth for
the Morea.