Chapter XX: Appendix: B (3)

It is my heart and nothing else that speaks; I hope that I shall go
further, and as time goes on I shall be able to prove it to you. The
Duke of Celle [or the Hereditary Prince][199] goes on Tuesday to
Celle; for this reason do not write to me any more lest I be not there
[?]. The Duchess of Celle has promised 2000 dollars if the Hereditary
Prince does not return; this redoubles my friendship. The Hereditary
Princess spoke yesterday at Luisburg[200] to 110; he sought for an
opportunity for it. It was to exhort him not to give any chance to his
enemies, and above all to be on his guard against Countess Platen. The
Hereditary Princess begged him particularly to let her know about
anything which concerned her. He promised her to do so. I am not aware
whether all this does not concern Königsmarck. I cannot speak to you
except about the grief which it is to me to be so far away from you.
Do not console yourself for my absence, I entreat you, and have no
enjoyment when I am not with you. Great God, what a charm and what a
delight to be always with you; the more one sees you, the more one
finds you superior to all men in the world. I occupy my whole time
with the charming remembrance of the last time when I saw you; it will
never quit my memory. Ah, my dear child, how tenderly you are loved,
and how insupportable it is to me not to see you! I am about to go to
bed; I hope that my dreams will figure you to me as charming as you
are. If I did not think I should see you while asleep, I should not
care to sleep at all; for as soon as I am awake you take up all my
thoughts, and there is nothing that is pleasant to me in my life but
the time which I pass in thinking of you. Good-night, most amiable of
men; you are adored by me, and so you will be all my life. Good-bye,
once more—why am I not in your arms?—I shall die of this!

-----

Footnote 199:

Cipher uncertain.

Footnote 200:

A country-seat, not very far from Brockhausen, belonging to the Duke
of Hanover, where his Court seems to have been in the earlier as well
as in the later part of this summer. Cf. Colt, _ap._ Wilkins, p. 215,
_note_.

-----

On Wednesday the Hereditary Princess appeared at table and spoke to 110, then to the Field-Ma[rshal].[201] She arrived late. Prince Max received her and shook hands with her; she said very little to him. The Duke of Celle came into the room; Prince Max did not come in at all; the Duchess of Celle had gone to bring her in, and came back late for she did not find the Hereditary Princess. Supper was afterwards served. The Hereditary Princess, the Duchess of Celle, and the Duke of Celle, were together, quite by themselves. The Duchess of Celle took the Hereditary Princess to her rooms, and nobody entered them.

-----

Footnote 201:

Field-Marshal Henry von Podewils (1615-96) commanded the Hanoverian
troops in the campaign of 1688, and also in the demonstration of 1693.

-----

F 12

[FROM KÖNIGSMARCK TO SOPHIA DOROTHEA.]

The 3_rd_
——————
23_rd_[202] [1692?]

My Mistresses are supposed to have prevented me from thinking of you? God, is it possible that you should believe this; and, even had I not written to you about everything (though this is letter No. 4) you ought never to have harboured such a thought. Is it possible that you should believe that I love anyone but yourself? No, I protest to you that after you I shall never love again. It will not be very difficult to keep my promise, for after one has adored you is it possible to think any other woman pretty? You wrong yourself by believing such a thing; and how could you draw a comparison between yourself and the others; and is it possible that after having loved a Goddess, one could bestow a look upon Mortals? No, in truth, I have too good taste for that, and I am not one of those people who wish to make themselves common. I adore you, charming brunette, and I shall die with this feeling. If you do not forget me, I swear to you that I shall love you all my life. I expect no more letters from you, because I intend to be soon in your company, and my sole occupation will then be to prove to you, that I love you to distraction, and that nothing is so dear to me as your person. Adieu!

-----

Footnote 202:

The above dating is incomprehensible; ‘the 3rd’ may possibly be a slip
of the pen for ‘the 13th.’ There is nothing in the letter to give any
satisfactory clue to the time of writing.

-----

F 18

[FROM KÖNIGSMARCK TO SOPHIA DOROTHEA]

[_July 1692_, from the Camp.]

I am very well pleased that you are for once satisfied with me; but it seems to me that this does not delight you, for you are always supplying me with matter for reproaching you; and thus you deprive me of the joy of being satisfied with you. You complain that your love interferes with your rest; I am willing to believe it, but this love does not touch your heart so deeply that you would cut off the slightest pleasures for its sake. No, no; it is for me to complain: my passion not only troubles me, but brings me to despair. Oh, God! how I [hate] the places where I know the amusements are going on; I should much like to see you at the Gate of Brussels[203] or of Ghent[?] without appearing there myself; rather than do this you would abandon me and ten other _galans_. You find your conduct correct; so do I; but I should be beyond despair if mine were not still more so. I am very well pleased that you have not fallen ill; it would have left me inconsolable. Although I am not satisfied with you, you were satisfied with my letter; this fills me with joy; you find there the unfeigned sentiments of my heart; I thank you very humbly that you promise me not to give your portrait to the person we know of. Why do you flatter me so much in your letters, when you think so little of keeping your promises to me? You assure me that nothing will be difficult for you, and that you will do everything to please me; this is very well said, but very ill kept. Alas! you say to me, let us trust that time will be able to make us happy; but know that time will make me the most unhappy of mankind. I have not the audacity to say to you what I already know; but, my dear, I believe that they will force me to leave you. I cannot finish this letter, what with trouble, sorrow, and anger. Adieu; do not, at all events, hate me; for, I swear by my God, I do not deserve it in [any] way on earth.

-----

Footnote 203:

In July 1692 Königsmarck appears to have paid a visit from the Camp to
Brussels, see the Princess’s letter _ap._ Wilkins, p. 197. (Of the old
gates of Brussels the Porte de Hal now alone remains.)

-----

F 11

[FROM KÖNIGSMARCK TO SOPHIA DOROTHEA]

From the Camp at Hall _[August] 2nd-3rd {1692}_.[204]

Although I had resolved to write to you to-morrow and to reply at length to the letters of the 13th[205], 14th and 15th, which I received from you at the same time, I find myself deprived of this pleasure by the resolution which the King has taken to attack to-morrow the French army, which is two hours distance from us; the place is called Enghien. At any other time this news would have delighted me; but I confess to you at the present moment it troubles me. I am loved by you, the only object that I have found worth loving. I have not deceived myself in my belief that you possess all the fine qualities to be found in the world; but, my dear, I must risk my life, and perhaps never see you again. Hardly was I made aware that you were innocent, and that I falsely suspected you, when I am perhaps never to see you again. I have risked my life a hundred times, by way of folly or high spirits, and I knew myself sufficiently to be sure that death never terrified me. But, my divinity, that which makes me a coward is the fear of not seeing you again. Adieu then, amiable Doro, adieu; how much I am to be pitied—and yet I am fortunate, but I cannot take advantage of my good fortune. Do not, however, think that you have a coward admirer; no, my dear, since to battle I must go, I will behave there as is right, and, if I can, I hope to distinguish myself. But, my heart, permit me to make a request to you, namely, that, if my fate is so unkind to me as to leave me crippled by the loss of an arm, or a leg, do not forget me, and have a little pity for a poor fellow who has let it be his only pleasure to love you; no, my dear, do not forget him: he is a man who has been really and truly attached to you, and will remain so for the remainder of his life, although a cripple; my eyes which have been charmed by yours, will perhaps never see them any more. I cannot think of that, without shedding tears. Ah, how little advantage I have from being loved by you, and of how many torments you are the cause to me! It is striking twelve from the Hall[206] clock tower; they are bringing in cannon-balls, powder, and matches; it is the prelude to the scene which we have to play to-morrow; I must betake myself to my duty; adieu, beloved child! Ah, how I am to be pitied!

-----

Footnote 204:

This letter is dated ‘the 23rd,’ but August 3rd, O.S., was the date of
the battle of Steenkirk, on the eve of which this letter seems to have
been written. I have adopted a very ingenious conjecture, which I can
hardly describe as warranted by the transcript, but which may
nevertheless be correct.

Footnote 205:

See the Princess’s letter of July 13th _ap._ Wilkins, pp. 193-6.

Footnote 206:

A small town between Brussels and Enghien. Compare Wilkins, pp. 208
sqq.

-----

F 22

[FROM SOPHIA DOROTHEA TO KÖNIGSMARCK]

[Wiesbaden], _August 25th/September 4th {1692}_.[207]

I take so much pleasure in conversing with you that, so soon as I have a moment of liberty, I employ it to assure you of my affection. I wrote to you yesterday, but it seems to me that I did not sufficiently insist to you on the disquiet in which I am about what you tell me. It prevented me from sleeping all the night. I reviewed all my actions, and, the more I examine myself, the less I can guess what you can have against me. It is certain that you ought to be content with my conduct; it is ruled by my affection, and this is sufficient. I entreat you once more to let me know as soon as you are able what it can be. It will be very easy for me to justify myself, since I have never thought of anything but pleasing you, and I will with pleasure take all the most horrid oaths to you as to my innocence; but I urgently ask of you to inform me who are they that tell you such calumnies. No doubt they have their reasons for making a quarrel between us, and according to all appearances they will not stop there. Be persuaded, I entreat you, that I am incapable of doing anything that could displease you. My behaviour has shown you this up to the present time, and I will do even more in the same way in the future. I am in despair not to be able to make you perceive as much as I should like to do my affection for you. The opportunities are wanting to me, but not the will; and I shall not be happy until I have made the whole earth see that for me you take the place of the grandeurs and pleasures of the world and of all its charms. The only one which I desire is that of possessing your heart; I demand no other, and this one happiness will always make me indifferent to all others. I am convinced that if I were at Han[over], I should be told plenty of stories against you; but I trust you too much to listen easily to what I might be told. Do you act in the same way, and believe firmly that nothing is capable of making me change! I am in mortal trouble. They say that an engagement was fought a short time since, and I do not yet know the rights of it. I tremble lest you should expose yourself without need, and that some accident should have befallen you. Take care of yourself, I entreat you, if there remains in you any affection [for] me. What would become of me if I were to learn that you were wounded? I think I should die of it.

-----

Footnote 207:

Cf. Wilkins, pp. 233 sqq.

-----

F 32

[FROM KÖNIGSMARCK TO SOPHIA DOROTHEA]

_[September] 2nd {1692}_.

You make me [wish to] die when you pay me compliments. Since you do not reply to me on all the points of my letters, I have begged you not to write at all, and simply to let me know through Fräulein von dem Knesebeck the state of your health. I repeat it again here, and entreat you not to do it if it causes you the slightest fatigue. It is sufficient that you should write me two words, so that I may see that divine handwriting which is able to banish all the fears that I imagine to myself. The resolution which I must take, according to the opinion of all my friends, exposes me to the risk that, when I shall have taken my leave, I shall set all the world arguing about it; and perhaps I might be told through a third party that it is desired that I should retire. What will then become of me? Believe me that it is necessary to think of everything before taking a fixed resolution. The matter is of too great importance to me. The Duke of Hanover will find a thousand people like Königsmarck, but I trust that the Hereditary Princess will never find anyone who is so faithful and who loves her with more ardour than myself. My passion is so beyond bounds as to rise to madness. Alas! my dearest, you deserve [lovers] far better than Königsmarck. I am quite convinced that if they had given you an admirer according to your deserts, I should not have had the honour of being your Slave; but if some one with an extraordinary affection and an unequalled constancy was to have been your admirer, it is right and just that this should be myself; for I would dispute the place not with Mortals, but with the Gods themselves, and I defy them to create anyone to equal me. What an effect vows have when one is in the condition in which you are; never have I been more satisfied with you, never did I believe you more implicitly, than at present. You will, then, always love me, I may rest assured of it, for you swear to me that, so long as I shall love you, you will do the same. I shall love you all my life, and you vow the same thing to me; what more can I desire?—all my wishes are fulfilled, I am the happiest man in the world; recover your health, and I can be at the height of my bliss. I am not pleased to find that you prefer writing to me to taking your rest; I entreat you, think first of taking your rest, and then of your lover. How angry I am with your heart for its bad taste, to leave you in order to come to me; it does not know the difference; leave that to mine, one ought not to change for the worse, but for the better. Your account makes me tremble, and I fear lest the fever [and] the other accident tire you out so much that you will not be able to recover as quickly [as you ought]. I do not know, my heart tells me you are out of danger; I am no longer so much disquieted as I was at the beginning. I take that for a very good sign; at least I hope it is, and I ardently wish that it may be so; I hope that my prayers are granted, and that at the present moment you are better. The resolution that you have taken, to take what I had left you, is great; I avow to you that, if I had known it beforehand, it would have made me tremble; but, since everything has gone off well, I am at rest; and there is only the trouble of being the cause of so much more suffering on your part, and, if you found yourself still worse, I should be inconsolable. I am obliged to confess that the marks of your affection greatly surpass mine at present; nothing could be so touching as what you write to me ... of falling ill. I shall not find an opportunity of enabling you to see how great an affection I have for you. Is it possible that the Duke of Hanover is stupid enough to have refused you the appointment? I would rather put twenty field-marshals to death than once refuse such a favour to the Hereditary Princess. Although the Hereditary Prince does not return so soon and in response to the orders which it was made known had been sent, we are in any case already in the month of September, and the campaign will soon be at an end. Reflect on that! Adieu!

F 23

[FROM SOPHIA DOROTHEA TO KÖNIGSMARCK]

[Wiesbaden], _September 2nd/12th {1692}_.

It was so late when I wrote to you that I could not reply to all that you told me. I reread your letter several times; it is a mixture of love and raillery which I find very pleasing; and it seems to me, whatever countenance you may assume, that my journey does not find favour with you. Yet you are altogether as wrong as possible; for, according to all appearances, I shall go away again from this place without having seen any reasonable person, and I desire it with all my heart. I do not think of going to Frankfort fair, and I shall not say a word to help to bring this about. It seems to me that this ought to convince you that I am not in quest of society, and that I am incapable of thinking of pleasures when I do not see you. I hope to leave this place in a fortnight. The Peda[gogue] has to-day taken this resolution. I return with her to join the _Grondeur_; and I shall proceed to Han[over] a little before the return of the Reformer. I cannot yet tell you anything positive about what concerns the Göhrde;[208] I do not, however, think that I shall go there, for the season is too advanced for the Reformer to be able to be there, and I hope that, provided that nothing keeps you where you are,[209] I shall soon be able to see you. I shall judge of your affection by your eagerness, but I entreat you to take your measures so well that I may see you in private on the first occasion. It would be impossible for me to bear seeing you in public, and my transport [of delight] would betray me. They say that the French could easily carry us off. This makes me wish very much to get away, for I should not at all like to be taken prisoner, and I wish to keep your conquest safe for you. I am delighted with your [present?],[210] and I offer you all the thanks for it which you deserve. It took me by surprise and I did not expect it at all, which makes the thing all the more obliging. There is no sentinel in the world that you ought to fear, and the prisoner may reckon on the prison which will always be open to him and closed to all the rest of the world. As to this you may depend on me, and as to a love which will serve as a model; I wish to convince you of it, although you have some of it, and that I find no happiness or satisfaction except in loving you and in being loved. You seem to me so little certain of this truth that I am sensibly affected by it. Tell me what should be done so that you should be unable to doubt it any more; there is nothing that I would not joyfully do in order to make you see that for me you take the place of everything else, and that all my desires and my ambition are confined to pleasing you. If nothing but this is needed to render you happy, you are more so than any person in the world, for I do not desire to live but for you alone, and I renounce with pleasure the whole world, in order never to belong to anyone but yourself.

-----

Footnote 208:

George Lewis’ favourite hunting-box near Lüneburg, in the eastern
corner of the principality. There is a picture of it at Herrenhausen,
with a meeting of the hunt in face of the _château_.

Footnote 209:

In camp in Flanders.

Footnote 210:

The significance of the word _carême_ in this passage is obscure. Its
ordinary meaning ‘lent, fasting’ gives no sense. Dr. Braunholtz
informs me that the word may also mean ‘a collection of lent-sermons’;
but, as he observes, this was not a very likely gift in the
circumstances. And a ‘lenten gift’ of any kind seems out of season in
September.

-----

F 24

[FROM SOPHIA DOROTHEA TO KÖNIGSMARCK]

[Wiesbaden], _September 13th/23rd {1692}_.

Instead of the extreme pleasure which all your letters afford to me, that which I received this evening has pierced my heart. One could not think of anything that could hurt one more than what you write to me. I shall not repeat it; I believe that you will remember it still very well, and I would give everything in the world to be able to forget it. By what passage of my life can I have deserved the opinion which you show you have of me? If I thought to have given cause for it, I should wish to be dead; but, the more I examine myself, the more I find myself far removed from such sentiments, and, thanks be to God, I feel my heart as noble as it ought to be. I wish to say nothing further to you on this subject; I might lose my temper, and I very much hate harshness. But, to reply to the four points on which you continue to harp. I am very much deceived if I did not tell you that Sparr has been at L.,[211] and, if I did not do so, it was certainly because I forgot to do so and because I did not think that he was worth the trouble of my remembering him. I can swear to you all the oaths you please that there is no reason besides this; moreover, I did not say two words to him [about] the joy which you reproach me for having felt at finding Guldenleu[212] here. I shall not reply to you on the subject, for it is a ridiculous notion, and nothing in the world could be so ill-imagined with regard to the Fair. I assure you that I did not say a word in order to go there; but as I am quite sincere I am prepared to _confess to you that I was not vexed about it_; and, as to my new lover, you are mad to disquiet yourself about him; for he is far away from here, and according to all appearances I shall not see him; and [neither] his sisters nor anybody in the world will ever make me take any step against the affection which so fills my heart. I have already told you that I am convinced that he is not coming to Han[over]; but, if this should happen, provided that I am better pleased with you than I am this evening, I shall treat [him] with absolute rudeness rather than allow his visits. I am very foolish to give a reasonable explanation in reply to all your fancies—[to] you who are so far from reasonable as to anything that concerns me, and who have driven me to despair by your fine letter. It is true that you mean afterwards to repair your fault; but this is not sufficient, and I am not well pleased, for I desire your esteem, and you do not show that you have any for me. The _Confidante_ yesterday received [a letter] from the beloved Ketler,[213] who writes to her by order of the Landgrave[214] to offer his compliments to Leonisse, since you wish to call her by that name, and to assure her that he will do what is in his power to see her here or at the Fair. I do not, however, think that this is possible, because we take our departure to-morrow, and one will only be there for a single day. I shall not write to you till I shall have arrived, and I shall give you a sincere and faithful account of all. I shall say nothing affectionate to you this evening, for you do not deserve it; I am afraid that I shall not have the same strength of mind to-morrow, and that I shall have forgotten my anger, for I am furiously fond of you, and, although I do not tell you about it, I nevertheless feel that I love you with a passion of which there never was the like.

-----

Footnote 211:

I cannot offer any conjecture as to the identity of Sparr. He may have
been a descendant of the celebrated Brandenburg Field-Marshal von
Sparr. ‘L.’ may of course be Luisburg.

Footnote 212:

‘Guldenleu,’ if that be the true reading of the MS. (Wilkins, p. 229,
spells the name ‘Guldenlon’), might conceivably mean Ulric Christian
Gyldenlöve, the natural brother of Charles XII.

Footnote 213:

The Kettelers of Harkotten were Hanoverian Barons. (The famous Bishop
of Mainz was a scion of this family.)

Footnote 214:

The Landgrave is no doubt Landgrave Charles of Hesse-Cassel, of whom
the Duchess of Orleans speaks as her cousin. His mother, the
Landgravine Hedwig Sophia, was a daughter of the Elector George
William of Brandenburg and his wife Elizabeth Charlotte, sister of the
Elector Palatine Frederick V.

-----

F 25

[FROM SOPHIA DOROTHEA TO KÖNIGSMARCK]

Fra[nkfort], _14th/24th [September 1692]_.

I have been here during the last two hours. The Peda[gogue] alighted at the house of the P[rincess] of Tarente,[215] where I saw nothing but silly faces. From there we went to the Fair, where I saw nobody of quality. The Marionette is here, and her sister-in-law. I shall not see them till to-morrow, with which I am well pleased, for I shall be able to take a rest, of which I have great need, not having closed an eye all the night. I spent half of it in writing to you, and the other in worrying myself about the fine passage in your letter. I beg you very particularly not to give me any further such subjects of annoyance, for I am very touchy on the subject in question. Except that wicked passage which I cannot forget and which spoils all, your letter is charming, and nothing is more delightful than all that you say to me. Put this matter to rights, if you wish to be on good terms with me, for it goes very near to my heart. Mine is so full of you that, although I have reason to complain of you, I cannot bring myself not to mention to you that yesterday evening I had to make a terribly violent effort in order to keep silence to you about my affection. Never did one feel so much of it, and never did one less deserve reproaches than in my case. You are the most unjust of mankind to have the slightest mistrust as to what concerns me. I am too veritably yours that you should have anything to fear. All my actions should convince you of it, for it is certain that my passion for you exceeds all bounds. I entreat you to be fully convinced of this truth, and that there is nothing in the world which I would not do to make you see that I am more yours than my own. I hope that I shall not see either the Land[grave] or anybody, and I wish it with my whole heart. If you find anything which does not please you in what I wrote to you yesterday, lay all the blame on the vexation which you caused to me. It was enough to make me cry, and all the charms of your letter could not induce me to forgive the offending passage. Rest tranquil as to my behaviour. It shall be divine, I promise you for myself and for the Rival.

-----

Footnote 215:

Princess Emily of Hesse-Cassel, sister of Landgrave William VI,
married Henry Charles, Prince of Tarente, and died in 1693. As to the
‘Marionette’, see the Introduction to this Appendix.

-----

F 26

[FROM SOPHIA DOROTHEA TO KÖNIGSMARCK]

[Ebsdorf,[216] _September 1692_.][217]

In the name of God, take care of yourself! My life is united to yours. A thousand desperate thoughts come into my mind, and I am crushed with grief; I should find it difficult to speak to you of anything else. I have plenty of leisure for nursing my trouble, and it is with a real joy that I find myself in this solitude. I forgot yesterday to return you my thanks for what you tell me about _la Boule_. Nothing could be so polite; I consent, on this condition, that she becomes my rival, for I confess to you that I love a triumph, and that it is very much to my taste. Adieu, nothing is capable of making me change. I was born for loving you; you are my sole passion; I never had one before I knew you, and I shall die loving you more than anyone has ever loved.

-----

Footnote 216:

Ebsdorf, a hunting-box of the Duke of Hanover, about fifteen miles
from Lüneburg.

Footnote 217:

Cf. Wilkins, p. 233.

-----

F 27

[FROM SOPHIA DOROTHEA TO KÖNIGSMARCK]

[Ebsdorf,] _Wednesday, the 24th [September 1692]_.

I ought to give you an account of my doings of yesterday. I was alone all day. Then arrived some one sent from the master of this place to pay his respects to the Peda[gogue]. He got into such difficulties in his speech that I could scarcely stop myself from laughing at it. He also made a speech to the _Cœur Gauche_, and then took his departure. Then there was a promenade on foot, and on our return there was supper, and I had a conversation with the _Confidante_. This is the only pleasure I have, for we always talk about you.

F 28

[FROM KÖNIGSMARCK TO SOPHIA DOROTHEA]

[Hanover, _November 1692_.]

Although I wrote to you yesterday evening, I cannot stop myself from telling you that I have spent the worst night in the world; I dreamt of you, but I beheld you faithless to me. I dreamt as follows: It seemed to me that I had requested you not to see a certain great man, and that, notwithstanding your promise, you had appointed him to pay you a visit so as to say good-bye to him. I was informed of it, and, not being able to endure this faithlessness, I pretended to have a letter from Madame your mother to hand to you. I entered your room abruptly, and saw the most horrible sight in the world: that great gentleman held you in his arms, and, what is worse, you were alone in your room. You pretended a little to be annoyed with your Adonis, telling him that he was impertinent. In my turn, I wished to withdraw, but you called out to me. I was delighted with this, because it gave me a chance of whispering into your ear that you were the most ungrateful of all ladies, and that this would be the last time that I should speak to you. In fact, I went to find out M. de Pude [Podewils] in order to beg him to send me to Hungary,[218] which he did. I beg your pardon for this criminal dream; but I should think myself very much more criminal if I did not let you know of it. Do not think that I am inventing; no, by my God, it is a true tale. For the love of all that is dearest to you, take care to restore my peace of mind, and free me from my fear. I am afraid that this dream may be some melancholy presage, and something that bodes no good. It would be unjust that a tender affection should be requited by infidelities; I hope it may not be so; for why should you wish to desert a heart that adores you, and that swears to be faithful to you? If such vows can attach you solely to me, I protest to you before God, that never will I be unfaithful to you, and that I will love you all my life with the same passion that I do [at present]. When I shall have the honour of amusing you with an account of yesterday’s debauch, you will laugh a good deal. The Baroness[219] [_sic_] distinguished herself on the occasion, and the big Swedish beard[s] made the best effect in the world; she was so much ... that her natural colour began to appear beneath, which produced the most diverting spectacle in the world. She asked me why I did not amuse myself; I answered that I had come to pay my court to M. [Bielke][220] and not to amuse myself. In leaving me she called me a traitor; whereupon I replied that I was not one yet, but might very possibly become one. M. le Duc played at ombre yesterday evening with her. That is the very Devil! I will conclude by asking you to prepare yourself to rescue me from the disquietude in which I am, and to believe me inviolably attached to you and to all those who have a regard for you. I embrace you from my very heart, and I kiss your portrait a million times. Farewell!

-----

Footnote 218:

The Imperial campaigns in Hungary were still in progress, and, by
the _Kurtractat_ of 1692, Ernest Augustus and his brother were
under the obligation of keeping up a military force there till the
end of the war.

Footnote 219:

The ‘Baroness’—unidentifiable—not the ‘Countess’; though Countess
Platen was famed as an expert in the art of painting, and was even
said to have invented a mysterious pigment called ‘white rouge.’

Footnote 220:

The letters ‘Bil’ in the original no doubt stand for ‘Bielke.’ See
note to F 10, below. ‘M. le Duc’ is clearly the Duke of Celle.

-----

F 29

[FROM KÖNIGSMARCK TO SOPHIA DOROTHEA]

[Hanover, _December 1692_.]

Come here some Friday evening, and wait till the Elector[221] comes here. If Prince Max cannot be got rid of, you can go back, and that will serve you as a pretext with the Duke of Celle and the Electoral Prince. Tell me if you agree with my notion; if you can do it, arrange so that I may see you, for, frankly, I cannot go on living in this way; for the love of me [and] of you arrange for me to see you and to embrace you, for without this satisfaction life is worth nothing to me.

F 30

[FROM KÖNIGSMARCK TO SOPHIA DOROTHEA]

[Hanover, _December 1692_.]

The joy of finding the Ref[ormer] departed was broken by the trouble of finding you ill; I hope, however, that it will not be of consequence; for otherwise I shall not be able to sleep all night because of it. I hope to embrace you to-morrow evening; I await the ordinary signal; and the bad weather shall not prevent me from tasting the delight of your charming kisses; unless indeed you give me other orders. I hope for the contrary, and I trust that your eagerness will respond to mine. If you do not go out to-morrow, this will suffice to assure you that the moments will seem like centuries to me, and that the times during which I am away from you are those which I pass to no purpose whatever; and that I am ready to come to-morrow to the well-known place. I await the signal and am your very obedient servant.

F 31

[FROM KÖNIGSMARCK TO SOPHIA DOROTHEA]

[Hanover, _December 1692_.]

One could not be better pleased with you than I am. Your obliging ways of yesterday, your very dear letter, in a word everything, charms me; I begin to revive, and yesterday is one of those days which I ought to mark in my book. In order to take full advantage of it, I beg that I may see you this evening; I shall await the signal with great impatience, for I die with desire to prove to you my joy—it is beyond all bounds, and cannot express itself. For the love of you, of myself, and of everything that is dear to you, continue in the same way; you will then be able to persuade me that I have nothing to fear, that I shall always be happy and contented—that is the pleasure of love, those are the charms of an attachment that is sincere and genuine. The avowal of the _Grond[eur]_ further gives me much hope—seek to soften him, you will be able to do it if you try; but you must take pains about it, and choose your time well. Be withal convinced that, if Heaven destines me the joy of having you for my own, my ways will be quite different from what you have imagined to yourself, and I swear to you that I shall regulate them according to yours. Put faith in this avowal, for it is sincere, and springs from a soul without guile and without finesse; as the weather is fine, I hope to see you in the [falconry] [?].[222] I hope to find you there loving and happy. Farewell till then; you will, I feel sure, say a little word to me, from which I can perceive that you grant my prayer.

-----

Footnote 221:

Of Hanover (on the point of becoming such).

Footnote 222:

I cannot be sure about the ‘falconry.’ The list of the Elector’s
household in 1696, ap. Malortie, _Der Hannoversche Hof unter d.
Kürfürsten Ernst August_, &c., p. 40, includes one ‘bird-catcher,’
and one ‘ortolan-catcher.’

-----

F 33

[FROM SOPHIA DOROTHEA TO KÖNIGSMARCK][223]

[Hanover, _December 1692_ (?)]

Let [him] be at 8 o’clock in the evening near the door of the great hall, where the Pr[incess] is accustomed to play cards; he will be able to meet her there in safety, since nobody passes there, to-morrow being Sunday.

-----

Footnote 223:

What is here printed as two letters (F 33 and F 34) runs on
without break in the Berlin manuscript. It is, however, difficult
to believe that the earlier portion is not distinct from the
latter, and that the former was not written by ‘_la Confidante_,’
and the latter by Königsmarck; and I have therefore, though with
diffidence, ventured on the arrangement in the text. It must not
be supposed that these two letters refer to the assignation which
led to the catastrophe of the amour between Sophia Dorothea and
Königsmarck. The day of Königsmarck’s disappearance was, no doubt,
a Sunday, and the place in which, according to tradition, he was
struck down dead was by the door of the _Rittersaal_, in the
_Leineschloss_ at Hanover. But apart from the fact that, according
to Rüdiger’s statement (Cramer, vol. i. p. 69), Königsmarck did
not leave his lodgings till between 9 and 10 p.m., the body of the
letters in the Lund and in the Berlin collection appear to belong
to an earlier date than that at which Königsmarck quitted the
Hanoverian service (probably about the spring of 1694): and it can
hardly be supposed that these two specially incriminating letters
were left by the Secretary Hildebrandt to be seized, and that they
found their way to Berlin with a series of which they formed no
integral part. The Princess, it may be added, was in the habit of
playing cards in the Grand Hall as early as 1691 (cf. Wilkins, p.
145).

-----

F 34

[FROM KÖNIGSMARCK TO SOPHIA DOROTHEA]

[Hanover, _December 1692_ (?)]

He will be there at the above-mentioned hour; do not doubt of his
fidelity. Adieu, incomparable Goddess; I wish you good evening,
and desire that your dreams may be as full of me as mine are of
you. After having once more reread your letter, I shall go to
sleep, with the hope of dreaming of [nothing] else than you. I
embrace you a Million times, and am your very obedient ser[vant].

-----

Footnote 224:

Near Celle.

-----

F 9
[FROM KÖNIGSMARCK TO SOPHIA DOROTHEA]

_Friday, 8 o’clock at evening. [Summer, 1693.]_

This moment I have received a very long letter, and one of the
kind I like from the Electoral Princess. I have not had leisure to
read it, lest the post should leave, and without assuring you what
joy it gave me when I received it; _le bonhomme_ goes to-morrow to
Engsen[224]; on his return I shall know my fate, which I shall at
once make known to the Electoral Princess. I am continually
offering up vows that I may not have to set out on the march, so
that I may be able to embrace her whom I love, and for whom I am
ready to die a thousand and a thousand times. Believe me that I
adore you in the most violent way in the world. Would to Heaven I
might have occasion to prove it to you! I shall not forget for a
moment, in order to convince you of it. What satisfaction it will
be to me if by my obedience I shall be able to show you how deep a
regard I have for you and what pleasure I take in being your slave
for ever. Adieu, my incomparable Leonisse; how I will kiss thee,
my little one.[225]—K.

-----

Footnote 225:

_Ma petite._ For Königsmarck’s use of the same term of endearment,
cf. Wilkins, p. 162.

-----

F7
[FROM KÖNIGSMARCK TO SOPHIA DOROTHEA]

_One o’clock in the night. [Summer of 1693.]_

The _bonhomme_ has returned from his conference, and made me
dismiss the orderlies without commands. This is what leads me to
suppose that we shall still remain [here] during the present week;
and, as I am to dine with him to-morrow, I shall have some further
information, which I will at once communicate to you. In the
meantime, make ready to carry out what follows. The Duchess has
been to Linde,[226] to get rid of Countess Platen. Count de
Stenbock, whom you saw here seven years ago, wished to pay his
respects, and Count de La Gardie also.[227] I took them there, and
I found the good Plesse[?][228] at a stand [?], and the paint
running down everywhere—she was so overcome at seeing such a
number of strangers arrive that she was quite confused. She chose
the wiser part, for she withdrew at once, to put herself to rights
again. There is a good deal of malicious wit in the Electress, and
she could not have revenged herself better. Think of coming, I
entreat you; and believe that without seeing you is to be dead,
and I marvel that my fate should have been so cruel to me as to
let me survive all its misfortunes; but, if I do not see you soon,
there is no war nor danger which I will not seek in order to
shorten my unhappy life. I die with shame at not being dead
already. How does it agree with my loving you to distraction that
I neither see you nor speak to you, and yet survive! I believe
that my confounded fate preserves me in order to trouble me all
the more. You alone can rescue me from my despair; come quickly to
console me, or I shall commit some desperate act which I shall
regret all my life, for the life I lead is unbearable; I hate it
like death, I am tired out with it and can no longer bear it; I
wish that the lightning would destroy all those who prevent us
from seeing one another and joining our flames. Pardon the rage
which my too violent passion calls forth in me: it seems to me
that, if I must not see what I love, it is right that I should not
see the light of day. At this moment I should be capable of
sacrificing Father, Mother, Brother, and Sister, if I thought that
they prevented me from seeing my angel. Leonisse, what torments
your beauty costs me, to what trouble your charms give rise! Come
and make me forget all my woes; thou canst do it, by thy embraces,
by thy caresses; and there is no one in the world capable of this
but thyself. I await you with the greatest impatience in the
world; and do not allow me to say that you are quick to depart,
while ... to return where love calls [?] you. I should however be
in the wrong, if I complained of our parting, for it was loving
and sincere; but I beseech you, do not give me reason to complain
of a last parting. Farewell! I kiss you a thousand, thousand
times. Mlle. de Knesebeck is the best person in the world; I beg
you to tell her of my regard for her. I ask, with your permission,
to be remembered to her.

-----

Footnote 226:

See note to F 4 below.

Footnote 227:

Count Magnus Stenbock, afterwards renowned as a Swedish general
under Charles XII, and sympathetically remembered for his tragic
death, entered the Dutch service as a volunteer in 1690. The Count
de La Gardie mentioned here may be Pontus Frederick who died in
1693. Stenbock was connected by descent with the de La Gardies; a
Countess Stenbock, born de La Gardie, was with Aurora von
Königsmarck immediately after her brother’s death. The two Counts
are mentioned as likely to come to Celle in July 1693, _ap._
Wilkins, p. 288.

Footnote 228:

‘The good Plesse’ must have been the lady of General Pless,
formerly in the Danish service, like many other members of his
family, which was of ancient Brunswick descent.

-----

F 10
[FROM KÖNIGSMARCK TO SOPHIA DOROTHEA]

[Hanover], _Saturday, [July 1693]_.