THE VISIT TO WIESBADEN.
Why now do pangs of torment clutch thy heart,
Which with thy love should make thee overjoyed?
DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI.
The Electress of Brandenburg did not go to Luisburg after all. Elaborate
preparations had been made for her reception, for Duke Ernest Augustus
was anxious to gain his powerful son-in-law’s support for the coveted
Electorate, and so wished to treat his daughter with special honour. But
the Elector of Brandenburg hung back, and at the eleventh hour the
Electress changed her plans, to the great chagrin of her parents. By
this time Princess Sophie Dorothea was well on her way to Wiesbaden,
where she stayed with her mother for some weeks. Before returning to
Hanover she visited the Frankfort fair. Frankfort was even then a place
of considerable importance, and the annual fair was a carnival to which
all the great world flocked from far and wide. It was very natural for
the Princess to wish to see it when she was so near, and she hardly
merited Königsmarck’s reproaches for going. She writes to her lover _en
route_ to Wiesbaden:—
“EIMBECK,[158] _August_ 12/22.
“I am writing haphazard; but I cannot exist any longer without
assuring you that I love you, and absence only increases my passion. I
am not telling you everything that has happened every day, for I fear
my letter might be lost, and then all the different places I should
have to name would disclose everything. I will send you a list when I
arrive, if anything worth mentioning takes place. I think of you from
morning to night; it is my only occupation and pleasure. I am so
delighted to think I am getting nearer the time when we shall meet
again. I have no end of dreams concerning that meeting; they are
pleasant, though impossible. I am told you are losing money at play. I
am grieved, but one cannot be lucky in everything; your gains in love
must console you for your losses at cards. I hope you will return [to
Hanover] about the same time as I do.”
-----
Footnote 158:
Eimbeck, a little town on the road, in Grubenhagen.
-----
“[WIESBADEN,] _August_ 21/31
“I reached here last night after twelve days’ journey, which seemed as
many centuries, because I could not hope to have news of you while we
were travelling. I am hungering for your letters, and hoping that I
shall have some to-morrow. Nothing took place on the journey worth
mentioning, nor did I see a face worth remembering. I did nothing but
eat, drink, and sleep, and I played cards sometimes with my mother. It
is hardly worth while to send you an account of what I did every day,
and, besides, as I said before, I should have to name the different
places I passed through, and that might reveal everything. The prudent
Confidente advises me to do nothing of the kind; but if you do not
trust me, I will send a list, in spite of all. We are alone; the house
is like a convent, and there is no one here but ourselves, so you can
be at rest. But if _tout le monde_ were here you would have nothing to
fear: I am yours only. I wrote you once on the journey; I am sorry I
could not do so oftener. About a league from Wiesbaden a courier came
to me with a letter from La Marionette.[159] I am sending you a copy
of it, and of another which she enclosed from her brother, who is with
the army. I am much surprised at their contents. I don’t know what
object the little woman has in worrying me, for I have never thought
of her or her brother. Perhaps she wishes me to come to harm, so that
she may have you all to herself; but she mustn’t think she has to deal
with a fool who gives herself away to the first man who comes along,
as she does. My love for you is the joy and happiness of my life, the
only love I have ever felt for any one; it will die with me.
“The Prince writes to me that another battle will shortly take place.
Think of the sorrow his news causes me, for my life is bound up with
yours. I hope God will answer the prayers I make for you; I say them
with a pure heart: you make me quite devout. You are right in saying
that it is misery to live absent from the loved one. I experience that
truth every day, but I hope to be rewarded for all my trouble and
sorrow when once I hold you in my arms. You will be very clever if you
escape me again. I am thinking of the moment when I shall see you, and
the thought fills me with transports of joy. I believe I shall die of
rapture—pray God it may be so. My love is above everything: _I worship
you_.
“They tell me the Electress of Brandenburg has postponed her
visit.[160] She was to have arrived two days after I left. All the
horses were ordered for her equipage; the Duke had given up to her his
apartments at Luisburg, and they also brought music,—all that for
nothing! They say her husband wished her to put off her visit until
another time, but I feel sure she will not come; the postponement is
only a pretext. It will make the Duke and Duchess very angry; in fact,
it is mocking them, but it matters very little to me.”
-----
Footnote 159:
_La Marionette_ was a German princess, probably a princess of Hesse.
The mention of her brother being “with the army” refers not to the
campaign in Flanders, but to the fact that on the Upper Rhine, and
along the frontier which separates France from Piedmont, there was a
desultory war being carried on in connection with the Palatinate. The
letters mentioned are two, one from _La Marionette_, commending her
brother to the Princess and expressing a hope of meeting at the
Frankfort fair, and the letter enclosed from her brother, containing
extravagant expressions of his admiration of Sophie Dorothea.
Footnote 160:
“Just now we have the news that the Electress of Brandenburg doth not
come so soon as she intended, all things having been provided for
her.”—Colt’s _Despatch_, Celle, August 12, 1692.
-----
_Königsmarck to the Princess._
“FROM THE CAMP OF NINOVE, _August_ 13/23.
“For five days I have not received any letter from you; but I know you
are travelling, and that explains it. I hope to have news from
Wiesbaden, for you can make no excuse about the post there. I am
grateful for your anxiety about me when in the battle; it shows you
have some fragment of love left for me still. But perhaps it would
have been better for me to have been shot while fighting, for, though
I am sure of myself, I cannot be sure of you. I know not if all they
tell me about you is true. Your journey is much against my wishes, and
I have taken a resolution which will astonish you greatly. On your
love depends all my happiness; but, alas! it is like building on sand.
But I cannot change my nature, and, however much I may try, I cannot
root out my love for you. If ever there was a woman worthy to be
loved, that one is surely you. I have one thing in common with many
men—‘I love a charming being, who is loved by many’. That is from a
song, and I give it you for what it is worth; it does not come out of
my brain,—that, alas! is too much worried with cares, jealousies,
sorrows, and anxiety to be able to invent anything witty or clever.
Farewell. I crave your forgiveness if I suspect you without cause.”
_The Princess to Königsmarck._
“WIESBADEN, _August_ 23/_September_ 3.
“I should like to know why you are angry and who has been telling you
tales about me. I am greatly wounded by your want of confidence. If
you trusted my love, and believed me incapable of treachery, you could
not so easily credit all these silly tales.
“It puzzles me to tell you any news; we continue to be quite alone.
You will see from my note yesterday that I have seen a few silly
faces—happily only for a little while, for they left again the same
day. I really enjoy being alone; it is as pleasant to me now as it
might have been unpleasant formerly. It is you who have worked this
change, and I can assure you it is not your least glorious
achievement: in truth, people bore me and are in my way; solitude is
far more to my taste. I am no longer equal to conversation; you fill
my thoughts too much to leave my mind free.
“I have had a letter from the Duchess, who tells me the Prince is
aware of everything said of him; she also tells me about the Cabinet,
and that the Prince has written begging that all who invented the
slander should be punished.[161] I don’t think he is over-pleased, but
it is immaterial to me.
“I hope to-morrow to have another of your letters. I shall not be able
to sleep all night, for I am not satisfied with your last. I have just
read it over again. You attribute my anxiety for you to come safely
out of the battle to some ‘fragment’ of my love. So far from being a
_fragment_, it is the result of the most ardent devotion ever felt by
woman. In all you say there is a coldness that freezes me to the
heart. I am pierced to the soul. But I take some comfort in the
thought that if you were wholly indifferent to me you would not be so
sensitive. I would rather you were so hard, mortifying though it be,
than that you should be indifferent. I am going to bed now, but I
cannot get you out of my head; waking or sleeping, you are always in
my thoughts. Good-night. You are the most perfect man in the world,
but you are never satisfied,—that is your only defect. Cure yourself
of it, and be all mine.”
-----
Footnote 161:
This may have some reference to Moltke’s plot, in connection with
which Duchess Sophia was examined by the Cabinet. _Vide_ Colt’s
_Despatch_, August 29, 1692: “The Duchess of Hanover hath been
examined in several articles before the Duke and his Council”.
-----
_Königsmarck to the Princess._
“FROM THE CAMP AT DEINZE, _August_ 21/31.
“I am glad you say that if any hurt befall me you will not abandon me.
I almost wish I could see you again without my legs if it would give
me the joy of holding you always in my arms. But you need not fret
yourself; they are losing all hope of doing anything in this campaign,
and it must soon end. Therefore, resume again your merry looks and
lively airs; tears and sadness do not agree with fairs and baths. It
is true I am not so exact in writing as you. I will not dispute the
point; I know you cannot always write, for sometimes you are prevented
by other distractions. Alas! if you were to find real pleasure in
loving and being loved you would be the most satisfied of women. I
should have believed you had you said your heart was without passion,
save the passion for journeys; but I must be pleased, provided the
journeys do not let other passions enter in. This is what I have to
fear. Ah! if you only mean what you say when you write, ‘It is my
desire to become an example of the tenderest love, the most perfect
constancy that ever existed since the world began!’
“I assure you what Duke Frederick Augustus told me about La Marionette
made little impression, for before that I was disgusted with her; her
ways show the sort of woman she is. I have not yet even mentioned you
to him. He cut himself with a sword and made a large wound in his
head, trying to cut the head of one Montrany. I call upon him every
day. He is most uncomfortable and dirty in his bed; all the bandages
are swathed round his head, and, with that terrible mouth of his, he
looks a very disagreeable object. But he is a good sort of prince. I
wish he would become Elector, I should have a very good friend. My
sister Aurora is already at Hanover; I think both my sisters will soon
join you.... The Electress of Brandenburg will not go, after all, to
Luisburg, and the court will soon be at Hanover. You heard about
Ferdinand’s affair[162] some little time ago. Not only did he lose all
his money, but he owed two thousand pistoles. The Huguenots who had
won it from him could not get it, so they went to the Prince of Anhalt
and demanded that they might be paid. The Prince sent orders to the
illustrious lover to pay his debts before leaving Berlin. But
Ferdinand, in a rage, went and told the Electress, and she was so
annoyed at the affront offered to her fancy man that she sent word to
the Prince of Anhalt that she was astounded at the liberty he had
taken, and she would complain to the Elector, and so on. The Prince
begged her pardon. I believe Ferdinand’s mistresses will find some
means of satisfying his creditors and of getting him out of the
scrape. But the funniest part of the story is to come. The Electress
determined to take Ferdinand with her to Luisburg, but his
acknowledged mistress begged her to leave him behind and she would pay
the debts. The Electress replied with determination that she kept
Ferdinand for _her_ pleasure, and when she tired of him the other
could do as she pleased, but until then she would keep him well. There
is a happy man! As for his mistress, she may comfort herself, for the
lover remains [at Berlin] and the Electress remains.
“I am waiting with extreme impatience for your news. If, haply, you
have arrived, I hope my prayers will protect you from misfortune, and
that you will compass your journey in perfect health. Since there
seems so little chance of getting anything substantial from your
parents, I do not see why you should be afraid of them, or why you
flatter them, for everything that is to come to you after their death
will come to you without that, so you can easily spare yourself the
trouble. But you are very timid—so much the worse for you! They would
be silly if they gave you anything when they see you are contented
with fine words. I have won a thousand pistoles, but I may lose them
again. The King has asked me to play with him in the Elector’s tent,
where he is breakfasting; but I don’t know if my rage will let me go,
for I am in the very devil of a rage. I am yours until the tomb.”
-----
Footnote 162:
Ferdinand was the Electress of Brandenburg’s violinist. She took him
with her wherever she went and treated him with marked favour. But she
was passionately fond of music, and we need not therefore accept
Königsmarck’s construction of the intimacy, which, however, agrees
with the common scandal of the court of Berlin at that time.
-----
_The Princess to Königsmarck._
“WIESBADEN, _August_ 24/_September_ 3.
“Yesterday I received two of your letters, one very different from the
other. One filled me with ecstasy. If I had held you in my arms I
could have devoured you with kisses then and there. I will begin by
answering all the nice and charming things you say, and then I will
scold you for so easily believing all the lies they wrote to you about
me. I deserve more than a little of the love you show me, for nothing
equals my devotion.
“I have long ago forgiven your carelessness, though I did not get your
letter until I had sent _three times_ the post without finding any,
not _twice_, as you say; but when your letter came it gave me such joy
that I forgot all my sorrow and anxiety of a fortnight. One kind word
from you is enough to bring me back from that other world of grief and
pain.
“Since you went away I have found existence so wearisome that I have
longed for death to put an end to the sorrows and troubles which, as
you know, are many and threaten to overwhelm me. I hope you will not
be foolish enough, or brave enough, to get wounded for the sake of
seeing me the sooner. I would rather wait a long time than any hurt
should befall you, though, believe me, I am so eager to embrace you
that I am ill with longing. What you ask kept me awake all night. What
would I not give for the thing to be possible on your part! On my part
it is easy, but I will say no more about it. We can never tell what
the future has in store for us; but this I know—if anything should
happen to you I should not survive it. If you had chosen a place to
hide me from all the world you could hardly have found a likelier spot
than this. It is away from all society, in utter solitude. At any
other time I should have found it tiresome, for there is not a soul to
speak to, and the people with us are anything but lively; but as I
know your wishes it is a positive pleasure to me to be cloistered like
this. It would have vexed me to find any man here: you would certainly
have jumped to the conclusion that I came to seek him. I have so
utterly renounced coquetry that I hate it now as much as I used to
love it. I hardly know myself, and cannot understand how any woman can
have changed as I have done. As I have told you a thousand times, I
think of you only, and count everything else as nothing.
“I hope I may not go to Epsdorff; the Prince’s return may prevent me.
I shall do all I can to get out of it, for I would not delay a moment
the joy I would buy with my blood—to see you once more and to seal
with my lips my vows of love. You are admirable about your Duke
Frederick Augustus. A fine test you would put me to! I shall be sorry
if you place me under an obligation not to look at him, though it is
scarcely worth while, for surely you need not fear. You know full well
that you are far above them all. You see, I am giving you back all the
sweet things you tell me about La Reingrave and Madame Delvassine.
“But I am too long in justifying myself concerning your accusations in
your other letter. Please explain, for I do not understand. You speak
as if I had done something foolish, or, if I were too far away, I
nevertheless wished to do it. If you did not receive my letters for a
week it was not my fault. I wrote to you secretly from Celle by the
post which was to leave after me, and I wrote to you on the journey.
It is true I only wrote once, but it was impossible for me to do so
oftener. You must have had the spleen very badly to wish you were shot
in the battle. I am anxious to hear what new fabrications they have
told you about me; I cannot imagine what they can be. I am wholly
innocent. I went over everything in my mind last night to see if any
one could have given a crooked turn to any of my actions; but they
have been all so straight that they could not have been maligned. The
talebearers must have simply invented lies on purpose to make you
quarrel with me. Alas! I see too well that they wish to estrange us,
and you are simple enough to fall into the trap. It is very hard that,
however much I may strive to prove my love and devotion, you blindly
believe all these foolish tales. I should be mad if I were to give you
the least cause to complain about me, for I would rather die than do
it. There is madness indeed in the passion I have for you. I cannot
understand how any one can love as I love; you will never feel or
experience it unless you ‘build on sand,’ as you say you do when you
trust me. Only be to me as I am to you; I ask no other happiness.”
[Illustration:
[PHILIP CHRISTOPHER COUNT KÖNIGSMARCK.
_From a painting in the possession of Count Gustav Lewenhaupt._
]
_Königsmarck to the Princess._
“DEINZE, _September_ 3.
“I have received the letter you wrote from Eimbeck. I see in it, with
much joy, that you have not forgotten me yet. I greatly wish, on your
return, you may be able to say the same things to me; but alas! what
have I not to fear? You always speak of my not exposing myself to
danger, but you are exposed to the eyes of many handsome cavaliers.
Who knows but that among the crowd at the fair you will see some one
who may wound you. The sharper the attack the greater the danger. _Mon
Dieu!_ if you are wounded what shall I do? Where shall I turn? Why are
you so lovely?
“I have just returned from a walk with the King. The Duke of Richmond
was there, like a thrush, committing all kinds of extravagances. Duke
Frederick Augustus has decamped without saying anything to any one. He
owes more than fifteen thousand pistoles; I hold eight thousand
against him. He leaves behind him many people who speak badly of him,
but I have a great regard for him personally, though his conduct is
devilish bad. As to having too much wit, he has none at all; he has
not even won the approval of the ladies in Brussels. You were right
when you withheld him yours. The Elector [of Bavaria] went the day
before yesterday to Ghent, which he likes better than Brussels. He
finds the ladies prettier there, but as I have not seen them at either
place I do not know whether he is right.”
_The Princess to Königsmarck._
“[WIESBADEN, _Tuesday_, 30.][163]
“... Perhaps I am mistaken, but I detect a vein of irony in your
letter which is far from pleasant. I have no wish to see any cavalier,
for you would surely think I came here because of him; but I need not
have any uneasiness on that score at Wiesbaden, for there is not a
decently dressed man about the place. You will have nothing to
reproach me with about this journey, thank God; for I dread your
criticisms. You are the most troublesome creature when you set about
them. What matter even if there be a man within a hundred leagues of
me? Why should you, the handsomest and most fascinating of all men,
fear him? I cannot forgive your mistrust. You do not believe my
promises, or you would not perpetually worry me about my demeanour. If
you could see the hole I am in even _you_ would be satisfied.
“Here is my day: I played cards with my mother all the afternoon. I
rested a long time on my bed. I went for a walk with my women. I
supped and I am going to bed. I hope you will be satisfied.”
-----
Footnote 163:
The beginning of this letter is missing.
-----
_Königsmarck to the Princess._
“[Undated.]
“You depict the place where you are so dreadfully dull that I have not
the heart to forbid my pet from being cheered a little. The Frankfort
fair will give you some amusement. I am sorry not to be one of your
party. What about your mother? When will she take the road? and will
she return with you to Hanover, or is she going to stay on at
Wiesbaden? Those who wrote to me from Hanover only sent me the news of
the place; they didn’t mention you, therefore don’t be angry, there
are no tale-bearers, and if there were I should not believe them.”
_The Princess to Königsmarck._
“[WIESBADEN,] _September_ 5/15.
“I am delighted to hear from you that the campaign will soon end; but
it will not end as soon as I wish, for I am awaiting your return with
an impatience which only equals my love.
“We are still alone here, and if any tell you the contrary they are
very badly informed. I am going to the fair, and La Marionette has
arranged for me to meet her there. My mother made me write and ask her
to be at Frankfort the same time as ourselves. I implore you, do not
_get ill_; nothing will take place there to make you so. I am grateful
to you for giving me leave to do as I please; you know well that you
risk nothing in granting me freedom, for I am incapable of abusing it.
I know to the tip of my little finger everything I ought to do to
please you, and I never fail in doing it. But can I be so sure of you?
Shall I see you again as tender as before? I flatter myself, yes; but
if it be otherwise I will not live a moment. I know no happiness in
the world save the one of being loved by you; I ask for no other, for
you are the source of all my joy.”
_Königsmarck to the Princess._
“DEINZE, _September_ 10/20.
“When you have read my previous letter you will see I have had very
little correspondence at Hanover with any one concerning you. The fear
our affair may be discovered makes me go with a bridle in my mouth,
and I have few acquaintances to whom I would confide such a secret. I
think the Duchess of Hanover answered the Prince very well; she is
careful to support the Cabinet. She is just like the Countess Platen;
I fear some day she will have the same power.... I have been looking
forward to seeing you again soon, but the news from Hanover tells me
that the Duke is going to hunt at Epsdorff, where your father is
now.[164] The Prince is going there too, and, as the Duchess of
Hanover is going to visit the Electress of Brandenburg, you are sure
to be one of the hunting party.
“The Electress of Brandenburg has been in a great rage with
Montalbany. She joked him at supper because people said he had such
thin, lean legs. Next morning he waited on the Electress in her
chamber, and she laughed at him again about the same thing. He lost
his temper, and, kicking his leg up on the toilet table, said to her,
‘_Voilà, Madame_, all those who have told you such things have lied.’
The page-in-waiting, seeing his impertinence had carried him too far,
tried to make him retire; but Montalbany was in such a rage that he
gave him a fillip which made the blood flow out of his mouth and eyes.
The Electress flew into a furious passion, forbade Montalbany ever to
see her again, and ordered him from her presence. But she did not long
keep to that resolution, for one of his friends begged and prayed for
him so hard that she made it up again. They say here it was Ferdinand,
and the scandal does much harm to that lady. Prince Ernest writes
nothing of it to me.
“In one of my letters the news from Hanover tells me that my two
sisters have gone to Wiesbaden. I fear they will find you no longer
there, which will be a disappointment to them, as they looked forward
to paying their court to you at Wiesbaden, since there is so little
chance of their doing it elsewhere, except at Celle. It is annoying,
for they would like to show their devotion, but have not the
opportunity of doing so.... What shall I do if you go to Epsdorff? I
shall not see you until the carnival; and I _must_ see you, whatever
it may cost me. Try to think how I can do so, and let me know of a
plan. I should like to know, too, if you wish me to wear my own hair
this winter, or whether you would rather see me in a wig. Your wishes
will be my law in this as in other things; in the merest trifle I
shall always study your sweet will.”
-----
Footnote 164:
Colt mentions that the Duke of Celle was at Epsdorff (_vide_
_Despatch_, September 15, 1692); and he was also there on October 7.
On the 10th he went to Göhre.
-----
_The Princess to Königsmarck._
“[WIESBADEN,] _September_ 11/21.
“How happy I am to have a lover like you! The more I read your letters
the more I am delighted with them. No one ever had noble qualities so
noble; no one could imagine a more gracious lover. I am _so_ grateful
to you for giving me leave to go to the fair.
“Last night I received La Marionette’s answer. She will be at
Frankfort the same day as ourselves. What would I not give for you to
be with us! I should die of joy. Nothing can equal the impatience I
feel to see you again; but I must be patient, though it is very hard
when one loves to distraction. I do not know yet whether there will be
any one else at Frankfort. I shall write to you as soon as I get there
and give you an account of everything I do; but be sure that if all
the delights and charms of the earth were at the fair you would fill
my mind wholly, and I shall do nothing that does not show my love for
you—a love beyond all that I can express. I defy the whole world to
equal me in tenderness and faithfulness; and you deserve it wholly,
for you are a king among men.
“La Confidente has been far from well the last few days, and I am
anxious about her; but I hope the change will soon set her right, for
this air is bad, and I am dying with impatience to leave it. Here are
so many sick people that I fear I may become one of them myself. I
should be so distressed if you were to find me ugly on your return
that I would make up on purpose to please you. They say I am getting
stouter. I am going to bed now, but I feel very lonely in it, for,
since you left, how many prayers, what eagerness, what desire, to see
you again! Good-night, my dear one. If I hold thee once again thou
wilt never escape me more.”
_Königsmarck to the Princess._
“DEINZE, _September_ 16/26.
“Since you have asked me to explain all I have against you I will make
a clean breast of it;[165] four things, of which the last is the
worst. The first is that you did not mention that you saw Spar at
Celle. The second, it gave you great pleasure to meet Guldenlon at
Wiesbaden. The third, although you assured me you did not care about
going to the fair, you seize any pretext for going. You pretend it is
because your mother wishes it! The fourth is the new rival [the Prince
of Hesse]. He is near you, in his own country. His sister (La
Marionette) pleads for him. You are going to the fair, and he will be
there with his _maquerelle_; and if he goes to Hanover, his old
sister, who is the most cunning of women and well versed in intrigue,
will be there too, on the pretext of a visit, to take him to your
chamber, even though you were abed. I will not suffer such things; I
would rather go to the Indies. It would not be pleasant for me to find
a lover in your chamber, while I, who worship you, must not enter. But
I forget, he is a prince, and for that reason privileged by his rank.
All the same, I yield him nothing.... I fear this letter would be
offensive if I believed all I wrote; but no, dear angel, I know your
virtue and your constancy, and so I warn you to be careful. Two women
are with you, one of whom has already done her best to make you hate
me—your mother. My dear Léonnisse (I give you that name, for it is
that of an incomparable woman, if you are anxious to know whom, read
the Duc de Bourbon’s romance, _Prince de Tarente_), what should I do
without you? I have met with a lot of bad luck in life, but at least I
have had the joy of worshipping you, and from the first day I saw you
my heart was touched, though I was only a boy and unable to declare my
passion.[166] But even then I loved you, and I love you now. As my
love for you was born with me, so to speak, so it will also die with
me. Oh, Léonnisse! if you only knew how I worship you, you would
freely excuse all the follies passion makes me commit and all the
suspicions that take shape in my brain. The Elector [of Bavaria]
swears at me about my gloomy temper, which he says I brought from
Hanover. That is true; but I am the only one who knows the cause of my
complaint, and the remedy. I am in a most piteous state night and day.
I open my eyes only to weep, and my mouth opens only to sigh. You ask
me to tell you the vow that I have taken. It is to love you as long as
a drop of blood remains in my veins, and though you may change to me,
I shall never change to you.
“I have seen your first lover, the one you were on the point of
marrying.[167] What a face! They tell me his wife is at Ghent, and the
ladies of the place will not pay their respects to her, she gives
herself such airs. She sees nobody; but you would have enjoyed
yourself like a queen. Think how pleased I should have been, for you
would only be two hours from me, and your husband in the army!
“Duke Frederick Augustus has left the army with very few honours; he
owes money right and left. He left Brussels under a cloud, for he gave
a powder to the first jeweller who dunned him which sent the poor man
nearly mad. The rogue knew he was going to bolt, but he concealed his
intentions and still made promises. The other day I dined with him at
the Comte d’Egmont’s, when he made me many hypocritical promises. That
is the way young men go on nowadays; I give them a good rating. The
season is getting so cold that every one is beginning to speak about
winter quarters.”
-----
Footnote 165:
Evidently in answer to the Princess’s letter of August 24/September 3.
Footnote 166:
Another reference to their early friendship at Celle.
Footnote 167:
Most probably Prince Henry Casimir of Nassau-Dietz, Hereditary
Governor of Friesland, and nephew of William of Orange.
-----
_Königsmarck to Fräulein von Knesebeck._
“You are right to think the visit to Frankfort would displease me,
especially as I begged and prayed her not to go. However, all can be
repaired if she only stops one day there. It is not fair. Did she not
say she hoped I would not go often to Brussels? That was sufficient. I
only set foot there for four hours for a game of tennis; I did not
even go to Ghent. The wealthy marriage they proposed for me I rejected
from the first.[168] I also refused to undertake the journey of which
you know,[169] though it was the only thing to save my property. Count
Oxanstern[170] assured me that if I had gone the King [of Sweden]
would have made me an offer of a regiment with the title of general,
and Marshal Hasbert also said that if I had attached myself to the
service of the King I should at present be a general. Consider, dear
friend, what I have sacrificed and what she is doing, and then say who
is in the wrong. This is between ourselves, for I do not wish her to
know about this at all, so pray don’t mention it.”
-----
Footnote 168:
This marriage has been alluded to before—in 1691.
Footnote 169:
The mission to Sweden; he went no farther than Hamburg.
Footnote 170:
A Swedish noble of high rank, sometime envoy at Hanover. This letter
is very characteristic, and undoubtedly shows that Königsmarck had
made sacrifices of his worldly prospects to be near the object of his
devotion. But it was hardly generous of him to remind the Princess of
it, even indirectly, for she had made a much greater sacrifice for
him.
-----
_Königsmarck to the Princess._
“GAVERN, _October_ 4/14.
“I am extremely sorry to hear that La Confidente is unwell. I trust,
however, that the gaiety of the fair will soon put her to rights. I am
glad to see you are going to leave that unhealthy place (Wiesbaden)
without being attacked by any complaint or illness. You need not be so
very anxious on my behalf about your looks, for I could not find you
more beautiful than I do already, and if you wish to “make up” for me,
I shall not see you for some time, and your visit [to the fair] will
have fatigued you. Had you done so _after_ your trip I might have
flattered myself it was for me; but in any case your care will not be
thrown away. The fine world of Frankfort will have the benefit, and
you will have the satisfaction of finding yourself hated by the ladies
of the city, for you will surpass them all in beauty and take away
their lovers. You have made so many conquests in so many different
countries that I do not doubt for a moment that you will enjoy the
same triumphs in Frankfort, and include that town in the list of your
trophies. You seek the banks of the Rhine and the Maine for people to
admire you and rave about you; but why do you not cast a glance
towards this unfortunate country? Here are kings, dukes, electors, and
princes ready to woo, and who of them could resist your charms?
“We arrived here after a march of thirty-six hours without a rest;
some of our men fell from their horses, and others have the fever.
Several wanted to entertain the Prince at Ghent: Goritz wanted to give
him a dinner at his wife’s, Ovenair wanted to give him a livelier one
with loose women. They tossed dice for it, and Ovenair won. The Prince
told me I could make one of the party. Monsieur Goritz goes to the
Hague, the Prince starts on the 15th, and Monsieur de Königsmarck goes
to Brussels to cure himself if he can. Here in a few words is news you
will not much relish; but, to finish with a _bonne bouche_, I vow to
you with much submission that no one on earth could be your more
humble servant than I.”