The Love of an Uncrowned Queen

“[Hanover, undated.]

“What will you say, Madame, when you learn that they did not let me go through the day without the misfortune I dreaded? Marshal Podevils was the first to tell me to beware of my conduct, because he knew on good authority that I was watched. I pressed him to give me more particulars, saying I did not understand what he meant; but he would tell me nothing except that it was concerning a lady of the court, and you can see to whom he refers. I was not satisfied, and implored him to tell me more positively in what way my conduct was wrong. He said he would do so to-morrow on condition I promised not to speak to any one about it. Prince Ernest has told me the same thing; and he is not quite as guarded as the other, for he admitted that the conversations I had from time to time with you might draw upon me very unpleasant and serious consequences. I could not wait any longer in the antechamber for fear of breaking down after hearing such news. Were you to see the state I am in you would pity me; my eyes, from which a torrent of tears has flowed, would show you how my heart is aching. O God! where am I to find a shelter to end my misery? O cruel Fate! scarcely hast thou let me taste the delights of love than thou plungest me into the most pitiable state ever known! From what I could gather from Prince Ernest, all that he knows is through Le Barbouilleur, and he, no doubt, will speak to me about it, but up to now he has avoided me. I shall know to-morrow: perhaps I shall suffer arrest and death.... Nothing has touched me to the quick so much as to find that our affair is in every one’s mouth. I wouldn’t mind the Electress of Brandenburg’s knowing it, if only half the court did not know it too. When am I to see you? When shall I gaze into those beautiful eyes? When will they beam on me and declare the joy it gives you to rest in my arms?”

“[Hanover], Tuesday evening, 5 o’clock.

“I do not know if I am to attribute the sadness in your eyes to your pious scruples or to the thought of our approaching separation. I flattered myself it was the latter during the game; but at supper the sad look vanished and you were as cheerful as ever. Perhaps your partner’s conversation had something to do with it, for he seemed to put you in good temper in a moment. But I may do you wrong; and you restrained yourself because no one should notice your grief; in that case I forgive you. I wanted to ask you yesterday to let me affect a cheerful look, but I could not do so. I beg you, don’t let La Confidente make me signs when she has nothing to give me, or when she does not want to speak to me. I was anxious about her signals all night.

“I needed your letter to deliver me from profound grief. Everything depends on to-morrow’s news. I feel like a criminal under sentence of death, who is to be executed on the morrow. Death would not grieve me more than separation from you. I am more than grateful for your consent to see me; but I know that interview will break my heart, for you are leaving me to go amid many pleasures, in the midst of court society, and surrounded by no end of handsome gallants. The Electress of Brandenburg will put opportunities in your way and you will not be able to avoid them.^[212]

“Until now I have always thought my passion was the cause of our differences, and I have blamed myself for acting in so jealous a manner; but, Madame, the quarrel we had yesterday evening shows me clearly you cannot live without quarrelling. From the most innocent thing in the world you magnify the greatest fault imaginable. When I am in the wrong and offend you, why are you not reasonable enough to say: ‘I will not have you speaking to me in that way, and if it occur again we shall fall out’. I should then take care not to commit the same fault again. But no, you are always picking a quarrel with me. You know such ways distress me, and, added to the wicked affronts I suffer every day from all sides, they crush me so that I do not know what keeps me from taking my leave. I shall certainly do so to-morrow, for it is evident you wish to make my life unbearable. Le Barbouilleur found a good deal of fault with you for talking so much to that violinist.^[213] Of course it was not seemly for a lady of your rank; but I am no longer in the state of mind to tell you what is seemly and what is not. I must think about beating a retreat, for the way you treat me is beyond bearing; I would rather lose my sight than be treated so. For mercy’s sake, cannot you alter your ways for the sake of a lover who adores you tenderly? Think of all the trouble you have caused me, of all the risks I run, and if there be the least spark of love left in you, you will not let a heart perish on which your image is for ever graven.”