The note was a forged document, confessedly by the Countess von Platen, when confession came too late for the repair of evil which could not be undone. Nevertheless, the count, on presenting himself to Mademoiselle Knesebeck, the lady of honour to the princess, was admitted to the presence of the latter. This indiscreet step was productive of terrible consequences to all the three who were present. The count, on being asked to explain the reason of his seeking an interview with the princess at an advanced hour of the evening, produced the note of invitation, which Sophia Dorothea at once pronounced to be a forgery. Had they then separated little of ill consequence might have followed. The most discreet of the three, and the most perplexed at the ‘situation,’ was the lady of honour. The ‘Memoirs’ which bear her name, and which describe this scene, present to us a woman of some weakness, yet one not wanting in discernment.
Sophia Dorothea, it would seem, could dwell upon no subject but that of her domestic troubles, the cruel neglect of her husband, and her desire to find somewhere the refuge from persecution which had been denied to her in her old home at Zell. More dangerous topics could not have been treated by two such persons. The count, it is affirmed, was the first to suggest that Paris would afford her such a refuge, and that he should be but too happy to be permitted to give her such protection as she could derive from his escort thither. This was probably rather hinted than suggested; but however that may be, only one course should have followed even a distant hint leading to so unwarrantable an end. The interview should have been brought to a close. It was still continued, nevertheless, to the annoyance, if not scandal, of the faithful Knesebeck, whose fears may have received some little solace on hearing her mistress reiterate her desire to find at least a temporary home at the court of her cousin, Duke Anton Ulrich of Wolfenbüttel.
While this discussion was proceeding, the Countess von Platen was by no means idle. She had watched the count to the bower into which she had sent him by the employment of a false lure, and she thereupon hastened to the Elector to communicate what she termed her discovery. Ernest Augustus, albeit waxing old, was by no means infirm of judgment. If Königsmark was then in the chamber of his daughter-in-law, he refused to see in the fact anything more serious than its own impropriety. That, however, was crime enough to warrant the arrest which the countess solicited. The old Elector yielded to all she asked, except credence of her assurance that Sophia Dorothea must be as guilty as Königsmark was presuming. He would consent to nothing further than the arrest of him who was guilty of the presumption; and the method of this arrest he left to the conduct of the countess, who urgently solicited it as a favour, and with solicitation of such earnestness that the old Elector affected to be jealous of the interest she took in such a case, and added playfully the expression of his opinion, that, angry as she seemed to be with the count, he was too handsome a man to be likely to meet with ill-treatment at her hands.
Armed with this permission, she proceeded to the body of soldiers or watch for the night, and exhibiting her written warrant for what she demanded, requested that a guard might be given to her, for a purpose which she would explain to them. Some four or five men of this household body were told off, and these were conducted by her to a large apartment, called the Hall of Knights, through which Königsmark must pass, as he had not yet quitted the princess’s chamber.
They were then informed that their office was to arrest a criminal, whose person was described to them, of whose safe custody the Elector was so desirous that he would rather that such criminal should be slain than that he should escape. They were accordingly instructed to use their weapons if he should resist; and as their courage had been heightened by the double bribe of much wine and a shower of gold pieces, they expressed their willingness to execute her bidding, and only too well showed by their subsequent act the sincerity of their expression.
At length Königsmark appeared, coming from the princess’s apartment. It was now midnight. He entered the Ritter Hall, unsuspecting the fate before him. In this hall was a huge, square, ponderous stove, looking like a mausoleum, silent and cold. It reached from floor to roof, and, hidden by one of its sides, the guard awaited the coming of the count. He approached the spot, passed it, was seized from behind, and he immediately drew his sword to defend himself from attack. His enemies gave him but scant opportunity to assail them in his own defence, and after a few wild passes with his weapon, he was struck down by the spear, or old-fashioned battle-axe, of one of the guards, and when he fell there were three wounds in him, out of any one of which life might find passage.
On feeling himself grow faint, he—and in this case, like a true and gallant man—thought of the lady and her reputation. The last words he uttered were, ‘Spare the innocent princess!’ soon after which he expired; but not before, as is reported by those who love to dwell minutely on subjects of horror, not before the Countess von Platen had set her foot triumphantly upon his bloody face.
Such is the German detail of this assassination. It is added, that it gave extreme annoyance to the Elector, to whom it was immediately communicated; that the body was forthwith consigned to a secure resting-place, and covered with lime; and that the whole bloody drama was enacted without any one being aware of what was going on, save the actors themselves.
In Cramer’s ‘Memoirs of the Countess of Königsmark,’ the fate of the count is told upon the alleged evidence of a so-called eye-witness. It differs in several respects from other accounts, but is clear and simple in its details. It is to the following effect:—
‘Bernhard Zayer, a native of Heidelberg, in the Palatinate, a wax-image maker and artist in lacquer-work, was engaged by the Electoral Princess to teach her his art. Being, on this account, continually in the princess’s apartment, he had frequently seen Count Königsmark there, who looked on while the princess worked. He once learned in confidence, from the Electoral Princess’s groom of the chambers, that the Electoral Prince was displeased about the count, and had sworn to break his neck, which Bernhard revealed to the princess, who answered:—“Let them attack Königsmark: he knows how to defend himself.” Some time afterwards there was an opera, but the princess was unwell and kept her bed. The opera began, and as the count was absent as well as the princess, first a page and then the hoff-fourier were sent out for intelligence. The hoff-fourier came back running, and whispered to the Electoral Prince, and then to his highness the Elector. But the Electoral Prince went away from the opera with the hoff-fourier. Now Bernhard saw all this and knew what it meant, and as he knew the count was with the princess, he left the opera secretly, to warn her; and as he went in at the door, the other door was opened, and two masked persons rushed in, one exclaiming, “So! then I find you!” The count, who was sitting on the bed, with his back to the door by which the two entered, started up, and whipped out his sword, saying, “Who can say anything unbecoming of me?” The princess, clasping her hands, said “I, a princess, am I not allowed to converse with a gentleman?” But the masks, without listening to reason, slashed and stabbed away at the count. But he pressed so upon both, that the Electoral Prince unmasked, and begged for his life, while the hoff-fourier came behind the count, and run him through between the ribs with his sword, so that he fell, saying, “You are murderers, before God and man, who do me wrong!” But they both of them gave him more wounds, so that he lay as dead. Bernhard, seeing all this, hid himself behind the door of the other room.’