[FROM KÖNIGSMARCK TO SOPHIA DOROTHEA]
_The 14th_ [_of September, 1693._ From the Camp].
Most assuredly, without yours of the 12th the Beating of my Heart,
of which 127 had been the cause, would have made an end of me,
but, most fortunately for me, I received it at the time when my
heart was about to burst; and, as I see from it that the news is
quite false, I also begin to recover myself. He told me, as quite
certain, that your fever had seized you again. Assuredly I should
not, with this disquiet, have been able to pass the night alive;
and now while I am writing to you I still have the Queen of
Hungary Water[238] on my nose. I think, however, that this will
pass away; but I feel very much upset and exhausted; if this does
not go away in the night, I shall bleed myself to prevent any evil
consequences that might overtake me. M. de Sporck[239] will,
according to all appearances, die before the day is over; I have 3
Captains, 5 Lieutenants and 4 Ensigns sick to death, more than 300
foot-soldiers and dragoons, of our troops only, are quite down; it
is an infected air, the healthiest sicken in it; all the same, I
hope not to fall sick, knowing you to be out of the wood. You will
have seen from my letter dated the 12th how well satisfied I am
with you; do not be offended that I begged you to [write] me two
words with your own hand; I knew that you were a little better;
otherwise I should not have done it; but, my best beloved heart,
you have done too much, for you have written me two entire pages;
I beg you very particularly not to do this any more, nor until you
are quite well again. The siege of Charleroi[240] will prevent the
Electoral Prince from being here so soon; great God, may this
siege deliver us from troublesome people! It is said for certain
that things are settling down; but the orders that are given for
taking care of the sick make me tremble with fear that we shall
not so soon quit this post. I am agitated by the same despair as
you are, to have to pass my life with people for whom I feel an
aversion, and to be allowed to pass so little time with her whom I
adore. However, you are more to be pitied, for I can very often
get free of it, and you not, besides the embraces which you are
obliged to undergo. It seems to me that, if I had to suffer the
same sort of thing, I could not prevent myself from being sick
every time it should happen to me. Ah, how horrible to caress what
one hates mortally; I firmly believe that purgatory does not
inflict so many torments as do caresses of that sort. If it is
true that the Elector of Hanover is not going to 308, I might well
come there; but we cannot take our measures before it is known
what will become of the Electoral Prince. The Duchess of
Hanover[241] will not arrive till towards the end of next month;
and then the Electoral Prince will have returned, and the hunting
will be over. May God only grant that we begin it soon, and that
you are able to put in an appearance. I pity you for having grown
so thin; but (with your permission) I find the question which you
put to me ridiculous and absurd. If I loved nothing in you but
your beauty I would forgive it you; but you are convinced that it
is not only this which I adore—it is your merits, your [sweet]
temper.[242] I confess to you that to see you beautiful charms the
eyes; but I protest to you that, were you ugly like Madame
Kopstein,[243] I should not love you a whit the less. Tired of
you? Ah, is it possible to ask such a question as this of a lover
who loves you dearly! No, no, Leonisse, you are not convinced of
my sincere affection. What must I do to bring the conviction of it
home to you? I shall never be at rest, till I know that you are
quite convinced of it. Do you believe that an affection like mine
arose out of anything so transitory as beauty? Although you have
much of it, and more than any one else of your sex, I can tell you
that it is not your beauty which has put me into the condition in
which I am. It is true that the beauty which you possess set me on
fire, and that without it I should perhaps not have been as happy
as I am; but that which has made me as I am is your _esprit_, your
sincerity, your way of living, and, finally, it is your soul, so
high-bred and so well-balanced, which produces in you a sweetness
beyond compare, an unequalled generosity, with clemency beyond all
imagination. It is these virtues which have placed me in the dear
slavery in which I find myself at this moment, and in which I also
mean to die. In truth, Leonisse, you trouble me greatly with your
questions; you fear that I shall become unfaithful to the greatest
Beauty of the age, and to virtue itself, for some unfledged
princesses[244] without any other merit but that of having been to
Paris. Once more, I see only too well that you are not well
convinced of my love; I hope that in the end I shall give you so
many signs of it that you will no longer be able to doubt it. To
take the proper steps it is necessary that we should speak to each
other; we have time up to the end of the coming month [?], and
before this time we need not fear the return of the Electoral
Prince, and of the Duchess. You still attack [me about] princesses
[?]. Do you perhaps think that I am so fond as you are yourself of
novelty, of change, and of people who come from Paris? You are
quite mistaken: I wear my chains with very great pleasure, and
would not change them for the Kingdom of the Great Mogul. The
letter of the Lieutenant-Colonel is very silly, but the person is
reasonable enough; she has inspired a strong affection in a very
brave man, of high rank, in the Low Countries, whose name is the
Marquis of Spinosa.[245] He is one of the fine gentlemen
[_galans_] of that country. But since I have sent you a very silly
letter, I shall make up for it by one that is very well written;
if it were not written out of a book, we ought to admire it
particularly as coming from this person; but let me tell you that
she found it word for word in a book. However, it must be allowed
that it is phrased very suitably. I beg you to send it back to me;
I send it you because I think it will amuse you. Adieu.
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Footnote 238:
This old-fashioned toilet-water has hardly gone quite out of use.
Its name is said to have been derived from the fact that the
original formula of the compound (of which the chief ingredient is
rosemary) was presented by a hermit to a queen of Hungary. In his
rapturous letter _ap._ Wilkins, p. 155, Königsmarck begs Sophia
Dorothea to have _de l’eau de la reine d’Hongrie_ in readiness.
Footnote 239:
A member of the ancient family von Spörcken, which possessed
numerous estates in Lüneburg, and from which sprang Field-Marshal
von Spörcken. He was born in 1698, and his mother was a sister of
Field-Marshal von der Schulenburg.
Footnote 240:
The siege of Charleroi by Vauban began on September 15, 1693, and
ended with the capture of the place on October 11.
Footnote 241:
_Sic_ in text (‘_la Dujais d’Hanovre_’ and, lower down, ‘_la
Dujaiÿse_,’ Königsmarck’s spelling), though the date of the letter
admits of no doubt.
Footnote 242:
The remainder of this letter was misplaced in the Berlin copy.
Footnote 243:
Probably the wife of Court-Marshal von Koppenstein.
Footnote 244:
_Gosses de princesses_ in the original. I owe the following
reference to Dr. Braunholtz: _Dans le jargon des voyous, une_
gosse, _une_ gosseline, _c’est une fillette de quinze à seize
ans_.... (L. Rigaud, _Dictionnaire d’argot moderne_, n.e., 1888).
Footnote 245:
I am unable to identify this nobleman. The spelling Espinosa seems
the more common.
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