Queen in waiting

Suitors and Tragedy for Caroline

There followed the happy years. Life at Lutzenburg offered even more than Caroline had dared hope for; here were pleasures which she had not known existed. There was luxury to compare with that of the Dresden court but here it went hand in hand with good taste and the adventures were those of the mind.

Sophia Charlotte had attracted to Lutzenburg some of the most interesting men of the age. Her wit and charm, her unusual intelligence, and her power over the man who was one of the most important Electors in Germany sent them flocking to her court.

Her love of everything beautiful was evident in the castle. She had collected together pictures and exquisite furniture, some of the latter inlaid with porcelain, crystal, ivory and ebony. Everything in the castle was rare and beautiful; but in spite of its grandeur ostentation was avoided.

There was no other castle in Germany where so many interesting people gathered; and the reason was due to the mistress of Lutzenburg. Here came men of diverse religious opinions—Catholics, Protestant, and Freethinkers. There was nothing Sophia Charlotte enjoyed more than to bring these men together, encourage them to discuss their views, and herself join in the discourse. Philosophers, historians, artists, literary men, all came to her salons, wandered in her gardens, talked learnedly with each other; and it was Sophia Charlotte's hope that one day because they had been able to meet at her home they would discover some way of welding the various versions of Christianity together and make a more tolerant society in which men and women could discuss their ideas freely without fear.

The coming of Caroline to Lutzenburg had been a great joy to her. She had been drawn to the girl from the first since she had always wanted a daughter and she had been distressed when she had heard rumours of what was happening in Saxony; she had blamed herself for having encouraged the marriage and by making herself Caroline's guardian she had hoped to salve her conscience. But what had begun as a duty had become a joy, and when Caroline had been with her a few months she wondered how she could ever endure to be parted from her. However that should not be until she had found a suitable husband for her and secretly she hoped to avoid separation by marrying her ward to her own son Frederick William. Her husband, indulgent as he was, would no doubt oppose that match, for Frederick William was one of the most desirable matches in Germany whereas Caroline had nothing to offer but her beauty, her charm and that alert mind which Sophia Charlotte determined should have all the advantages she could give it.

Neither Sophia Charlotte nor Caroline made any attempt to hide the attraction they felt for each other. The love which had sprung up between them was too deep to be denied. For Sophia Charlotte, Caroline was the perfect companion, intelligent, enquiring, loving learning for its own sake and not only because she wished to please Sophia Charlotte by her grasp of it. And for Caroline, the goddess she had worshipped from the distance was now a loving friend and guardian who had lost none of her perfections through intimacy.

They were constantly together; Sophia Charlotte supervised Caroline's education which was not only a matter of schoolroom lessons. They would walk together in those magnificent gardens made by Le Notre in the manner of Versailles; they would sit in arbours and talk with Sophia Charlotte's visitors who knew that if they would please her they must take seriously the young girl on whom she doted.

This was not difficult for the young Princess Caroline had much to contribute and in the warmth of discussion her youth was forgotten.

When Caroline had been at Lutzenburg a year Saxony had become like an uneasy nightmare, something that is only remembered now and then. This was her real life, surrounded by beauty, culture and above all love—the love of the person she loved best in the world—and with it that feeling of protection and security, which, but for fears of the past she could not have known was so precious.

She was not so fond of her official guardian who was, naturally, Sophia Charlotte's husband, the Elector of Brandenburg; she found his appearance repulsive and he had no interest in those matters which seemed so vital to her and Sophia Charlotte. He was exclusively concerned with statescraft; he would rise at four o'clock in the morning and retire early which was in complete opposition to the habits of his wife, who liked to S{>end the morning in bed because, for her, the day did not begin until the evening.

He cared for all that seemed empty to his wife. He enjoyed colourful ceremonies and never lost an opportunity of indulging in them. Often it was necessary for Sophia Charlotte to appear with him and this she did, but it was with reluctance that she put on the robes of state, the glittering jewels which so delighted her husband, and took her place beside him; and as soon as possible she would discard them and put on some loose flowing garment, in Caroline's eyes so much more tasteful and beautiful than flamboyant purples and gold, and instead of glorifying the power of the Electorate, talk of art or literature, philosophy or music.

Caroline, while having no affection for the Elector often marvelled at his tolerance towards his wife. He would look at her wistfully and long for her to interest herself in his affairs and yet he never showed displeasure that she did not do so; only sadness. Whereas Sophia Charlotte had no desire to draw him into her life and was quite content for him to go his own way.

It was only natural that he should resent the girl who had so easily won the love of his wife in a manner which he had been unable to, in spite of everything he had done for her—particularly as, with the coming of Caroline, his wife had grown even further from him.

There were occasions when, on his way to bed, he would look in at her gatherings which were just beginning .He would stay awhile to listen to the music of a young boy named Handel whom she had discovered and was encouraging—for she was constantly discovering and encouraging someone; or exchange a word with one of her Huguenots or Catholics or perhaps Leibniz who was one of the most eminent philosophers of the day. He would not stay; he would be too weary to do anything but yawn at their learned discourse; and in any case he felt unwanted.

Caroline, very much aware of him, always relieved when he left, often felt that their happy home would have been nearer perfection if the Elector had not been there.

But growing in wisdom as she was, she knew that those moments when she and Sophia Charlotte were together could not have been quite so rapturously wonderful if there had been perpetual contentment.

For Sophia Charlotte there were the petty displays of pomp for which she had no feeling; there was the fact that she was married to a man whom she could not love; there were anxieties about the wild nature of her only son—but from all these she had her escape, and she and Caroline were together every day.

So the golden years began to pass and Caroline was growing into a handsome young woman.

Caroline's greatest friend in Berlin, next of course to Sophia Charlotte, was Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz, and from him she first became deeply aware of the family at Hanover.

Leibniz had come to Lutzenburg to visit Sophia Charlotte from Hanover, bringing messages from the Electress Sophia and when Caroline began her friendship with him he was in his late fifties. Recognized as one of the most learned men in Europe, he was both philosopher and mathematician, and had originally made a name for himself at two universities and later by the ideas he presented through his writing.

The Electress Sophia, Sophia Charlotte's mother, had welcomed him at Hanover; and because Leibniz was a man who had a great respect for money and position, he allowed himself to be seduced from the universities to the Courts of Princes where he hoped to make his fortune.

The Electress Sophia had given him charge of the archives at the Hanoverian Palace and one of his main duties was to write for the glorification of the house of Hanover.

Sophia, whose favourite child was Sophia Charlotte, liked her daughter to share in her pleasures and so she sent Leibniz to Lutzenburg.

Sophia Charlotte had welcomed him to her band of philosophers and Leibniz was delighted to linger in such an enchanting place. He would sit in the arbours and conduct a discussion between Vota the Catholic, Beausobre, the Huguenot preacher and Toland the English freethinker, while Sophia Charlotte and Caroline listened and now and then offered an opinion. It was all very interesting and as Sophia Charlotte often said if only the same good sense could be shown all over the world as was seen in her arbours and salons, there would be no bloodshed over religion, for men would put their views forward in argument not by torture and the stake.

Although Leibniz was contented at Lutzenburg he often talked affectionately of Hanover.

One day when her son Frederick William had been more difficult than usual Sophia Charlotte spoke to Liebniz of her anxieties about the boy. Caroline was present.

"He seems to grow quite unmanageable," sighed Sophia Charlotte. "His governors and tutors have no power over him."

Caroline frowned to see her adored Sophia Charlotte so worried. The boy was an anxiety. He was several years younger than she was but had begun to notice her. She was thinking of an episode which had occurred a few days before. He had pulled her hair so hard that she had cried out with the pain; then he had held her captive and attempted to kiss her, and when she had protested he had laughed at her.

"My mother will try to marry us to each other one day so I should like to try you first," he had told her.

"You are insolent," Caroline had retorted.

"And you give yourself airs. Madam Caroline. You should go down on your knees and beg me to marry you."

"That I should never do to anyone . . . least of all you."

"And why least of all me, pray? You should be very grateful for me ... if you can get me. Do you realize that I shall be the King of Prussia one day. You do not answer, Madam Caroline."

"I was too busy feeling sorry for Prussia."

She had turned and walked away. "Don't worry. Madam Caroline," he had called after her. "My father would never agree to let me marry you. You're a nobody ... a nobody! Not good enough for marriage with the King of Prussia."

Yes, he was an insufferable boy and she disliked him. She was only sorry that Sophia Charlotte cared so much for him, which was of course understandable since he was her only son ... her own son which must be different from an adopted daughter.

So now she listened intently to what his mother was saying to Gottfried Leibniz.

"He has not enough discipline here," was Leibniz's verdict. "There are no other boys of his equal. The grooms and squires he spends his days with are in awe of him. He needs to be treated roughly by his equals. Why not send him to Hanover where he could be with his cousins."

"You think Hanover ... at this time ... is a good place for him to be?"

"The best possible place. There he can become friends with his cousin, George Augustus, and find he doesn't get all his own way."

"I often think of those poor children. Do they miss their mother much?"

"It is long ago since they saw her."

"But to know that she is kept a prisoner in Ahlden! Do they never ask for her, want to see her."

"Oh yes. George Augustus often speaks of her. I have heard that he remembers her well and talks of rescuing her."

"And my brother?"

"The Prince Elector behaves as though he never had a wife. He is happy enough as matter stands. He has his heir George Augustus and his daughter Sophia Dorothea."

"The fact that she is named after her mother must remind him."

"He gives no sign. He continues to amuse himself "

"With Ermengarda Schulemburg?"

"She remains his favourite."

Sophia Charlotte shivered. "And you think my son would be better off at Hanover I "

"Your mother's there to take good care of him."

"Yes," answered Sophia Charlotte, "there is my mother."

And as a result Frederick William was sent to Hanover.

Gottfried Leibniz liked to gossip with Caroline when they were not discussing deeper matters. He had a great admiration for the Electress Sophia, the mother of Sophia Charlotte, and he liked to chat about the court of Hanover; and since this had once been the home of her beloved Sophia Charlotte it was of great interest to Caroline.

How different a childhood Sophia Charlotte had had from Caroline's! And yet about her had whirled similar storms and passions to those with which Caroline had become acquainted at Dresden. The story of Sophia Dorothea of Hanover was far more tragic than that of Caroline's mother, for while fate had intervened to save the latter, poor Sophia Dorothea had had no such help.

Leibniz gossiped often of that tragic affair; he talked of George Lewis, Sophia Charlotte's elder brother whom as a man without learning he despised.

"If you could imagine the complete opposite of our gracious Electress Sophia Charlotte that would be her brother."

"He sounds quite loathsome," declared Caroline.

"I think that is the opinion of almost everyone except Ermengarda Schulemburg and one or two other of his favoured ladies."

"Tell me about his children."

"George Augustus is about your age ... a few months younger perhaps. He is like his father in many ways, but I think he might be an improvement on him. He is fond of music. The only sign of culture these Hanoverians have is a love of music. Literature ... art ... philosophy ... don't exist for them."

"How could the Electress have such a brother."

"She resembles her mother. The Electress Sophia is one of the cleverest women I have ever known."

"Surely not cleverer than her daughter?"

"When the Electress of Brandenburg is as old as her mother she will be as wise. I can't give her higher praise than that."

"I should like to meet the Electress Sophia."

"You will one day. She often talks of visiting her daughter. Our Electress is her favourite child."

"I can well understand that."

"I believe you and Electress Sophia would be good friends."

"Tell me more of her. Tell me about Sophia Charlotte's childhood."

"Oh ... those brothers! They were continually warring with each other. It began in the nurseries. George Lewis is such an oaf ... so uncouth, so crude. I know the Electress Sophia has always regretted that he was her eldest. She would have preferred any of the other boys as Electoral Prince."

"Did George Lewis know this?"

"If he did he didn't care. He was happy enough left to himself to pursue his two main interests."

"And what were they?"

"War and women. In the reverse order."

"And what of his father and mother. Were they hannv together?"

Leibniz shrugged his shoulders. "The Electress Sophia is a wise woman. Ernest Augustus her husband was a man who would have his mistresses. Sophia looked the other way. In fact she didn't bother to do even that. She expressed a lack of interest in his extra-marital affairs."

"But why?"

"It was no concern of hers, she said. A wife should not grudge her husband his mistresses as long as he spent enough time with her to give her children."

"It seems a strange philosophy of marriage."

"The Electress Sophia is an unusual woman. Because she remained faithful to this doctrine she has been accorded every dignity, she has been a power at her husband's court and she is the mother of many children."

"And she did not care that he was unfaithful to her? I can't believe that."

"She is a great lady of higher rank than her husband; being the daughter of a Queen and the granddaughter of a King of England. She never forgets it." He smiled a little wryly. "Nor will she allow anyone else to."

"And because of this she does not care that her husband was unfaithful?"

"Her royalty is the ruling passion of her life—that and the possibility of her attaining a crown. Beside that, all else seems insignificant. She has heirs of her body. She could be Queen of England and after her, George Lewis could be King."

"England! That is far away."

"To the Electress Sophia it is home. She has never been there but she calls it so. One day she hopes to receive the call which will take her there and that it will be to mount the throne. You know what her chances are."

"Yes. But there is a King across the water. Don't you think he will come before the Electress Sophia?"

Leibniz laughed maliciously. "When the Electress engaged me to work at Hanover, one of my duties was to attempt to wield together the Catholic and Protestant faiths. But when the law of succession was passed in England, there was a clause which said that only a member of the Reformed Faith could wear the crown of England. The Electress ceased then to be interested in this wielding of the faiths. She was a Protestant and she decided to remain one."

"She is not woman of strong faith."

"Her faith is in the English crown. She believes it to be the most prized diadem in the world and England the home of all that is desirable. Religion to her is something to be of use to rulers. She maintains that only rulers unworthy of the name allow it to rule them. Every day she grows nearer to the English throne her Protestantism grows stronger."

"You find this admirable?"

"I find it ... wise."

"Isn't that a cynical view of religion?"

"It is not a matter of cynicism. You have listened to—and indeed partaken in—our discourses. We are groping in the dark. What is faith? The very word suggests that there is reason for uncertainty. Whom do you, a young woman of good sense, admire most, the man who convinces himself he believes blindly and shuts his eyes to reason, or the one who says I am not sure but eager to find out, therefore I shall listen to every argument?"

"Naturally I think it wiser to have an open mind."

"Like that of the Electress Sophia. She has an open mind. In the meantime if she has a good chance of attaining the throne of England as a Protestant and no chance at all as a Catholic, wisdom decrees that she shall be a Protestant and a Protestant she is."

"Of course it is wise but..."

"You are too emotional, my dear young lady. That is your youth. When the tempest is blowing you must trim your sails accordingly. Always remember that. Is it wise to be wrecked for a principle? So much depends on what is involved? In life one rarely comes to a clear solution. Perhaps there is none. That is what makes our discussions here of such interest and such value."

"But you yourself, I heard declined the custodianship of the Vatican Library for a principle."

"You are wrong."

"But I heard that the Pope himself offered you this appointment and you refused because to have accepted it would have entailed becoming a Catholic."

"That is true in part. I had no intention of becoming an adherent to any one form of religion. What if I had? My freedom would have been restricted, and all avenues except one closed to me. I should have accepted this and that, because it was the law laid down by the Pope."

"But is that not declining for a principle?"

"In truth no. At the heart of my refusal was the knowledge that I could lead a fuller life at courts such as this and that of Hanover. I could become richer more famous out in the world."

"Then you are ambitious."

"I shall not know what manner of man I am until I come to the end of my life."

Sophia Charlotte joined them.

"I see as usual that you are giving Caroline something to think about," she said with a smile.

The Electress Sophia visited Lutzenburg accompanied by her grandson Frederick William.

There was great preparation for their arrival for not only was Sophia Charlotte eager to have her son home again but she was delighted at the prospect of having her mother to stay with her.

Caroline was inclined to be a little jealous and this Sophia Charlotte recognized at once.

"My darling," she said, "you will love my mother and she will love you. Instead of the two of us now there will be three. We shall be a trinity."

Caroline was unsure; from all she had heard of the Electress Sophia she visualized a formidable woman.

She was agreeably surprised for although the old Electress was indeed formidable she showed nothing but pleasure in meeting Caroline.

"My daughter tells me such news of you," she said on their first meeting, "that I am impatient to meet you. Why, you have a charming face, and I am grateful to you for making my dear daughter so happy."

It was a good beginning for it was apparent to Caroline that Sophia was a woman who would say what was in her mind and it appeared that because her daughter had explained how much Caroline meant to her, the Electress was prepared to accept her too.

Her nervousness evaporated and she found herself being as natural as she was in the presence of Sophia Charlotte and with the approving eyes of the latter upon her she proceeded to find a way into the good graces of the mother.

The entertainments at Lutzenburg delighted the old Electress and she was invariably to the fore in the discussions that went on. She was delighted to meet her old friend Gottfried Leibniz and even more pleased to see him so happily settled at her daughter's Court.

She liked, too, to wander in the gardens with Caroline and sound her to discover, Caroline was sure, whether she lived up to the reports her daughter had sent her. Caroline found herself playing the part of earnest young philosopher, seeking the truth, playing it in the manner she thought would best appeal to the old woman.

Am I being a little false? she asked herself. Were the Leibniz doctrines teaching her never to be herself, always to stand outside a scene, metaphorically, and look in on herself playing a part? Was it better to forget to watch oneself, to be natural, to say the first thing which came into one's mind? One would be more honest if one did. But it was so easy to do or say what was unwise, perhaps to change the whole pattern of one's life by a word or a small action.

Sometimes it seemed to her that there was no definite right or wrong way of living. Sometimes she allowed herself to believe that life would go on forever as it was now: Herself the companion, handmaiden, devoted daughter of the one she loved and always would she believed beyond all others. But common sense told her this could not be. Sophia Charlotte herself would not wish it. She would want to see her married, a mother, making a home of her own. There were only two ways in which she could ensure a life with Sophia Charlotte until death parted them. One was to remain unmarried; the other was to marry Sophia Charlotte's son.

The second prospect made her shiver.

Frederick William had returned from Hanover no better than he had gone away. He still strutted about the Court arrogant as ever and none of the attendants and servants dared thwart him or he would take his revenge; he would warn them that one day he would be their master and he would not forget.

Thinking of marriage with him made Caroline's thoughts turn to those far off days in Saxony.

Never! she told herself. I would rather remain unmarried. That is the answer. I will never marry. I will stay here with dearest Sophia Charlotte until the end of my days.

Frederick William had certainly not learned better manners at Hanover. It was hardly to be expected that he would. He had taken a violent dislike to his cousin George Augustus and waylaid Caroline in the gardens to tell her about it.

"You've grown taller since I've been away, Madam Caroline," he said.

"I daresay you have too, but I don't notice."

The angry lights leaped into his eyes, and she was startled to see how violent he could quickly become.

"Then notice now I " he demanded.

"It is of no interest to me."

"I command that you do."

"Are you in a position to command me?"

"The Electoral Prince has power to command all his dependants."

Caroline laughed. He took her by the shoulder, his lower lip projecting in an ugly fashion, and for a moment she thought he was going to strike her.

"I've no doubt," she said. "But he should not make the mistake of trying to command those who are not."

"And you ... the penniless orphan "

"I am here at the wish of the Elector and Electress of Brandenburg who, let me remind you, have the power to command the Electoral Prince."

He laughed suddenly. "You have spirit for a girl who has nothing."

"How can I have nothing if I have my spirit?"

"Now, Caroline, you're being clever. Save that for old Leibniz and the rest. Don't try it on me."

"I admit it would be wasted."

He brought his face close to hers. "Now you're afraid I'm going to kiss you. Poor Caroline, who has never been kissed. You really are getting old for such ignorance. You want knowledge. Well, why not seek it."

She pushed him aside.

"Don't get ideas," he said. "My cousin Sophia Dorothea is ten times prettier than you. I wouldn't look at you when she was around."

Disturbing! Particularly as marriages were often made without the consent of the two concerned.

A storm cloud had appeared in the skies over Lutzenburg; one could not be young forever; one could not remain protected from the ugliness of the world under the cloak of an adored guardian. Change would come and Caroline was growing up.

There was nothing the Electress Sophia enjoyed more than a tet-a-tete with her daughter. She admired Sophia Charlotte more than any living being and loved her more dearly than any of her children. Sophia Charlotte was not only beautiful and talented, she was wise.

The Electress Sophia could not see how she herself could better have handled her own life. She had not loved Ernest Augustus when she had married him and would have much preferred the man to whom she was first betrothed, the Duke of Celle, father of her ill-fated daughter-in-law Sophia Dorothea who was now a prisoner at Ahlden; but she had accepted Ernest Augustus and her rank and dignity had given her a certain power. All she had to do was let him go his way, let him keep his mistresses, never protest or show that she minded; and in return he accepted her position as Electress, as a Princess of royal birth, and she could have her will in all matters that did not clash with his desires. It was the kind of compact only an extremely wise woman could carry through; and she had done it.

Sophia Charlotte had one gift which her mother lacked: beauty. And this, the old Electress would be the first to admit, was a very valuable one. Because of it she had not to placate a husband who preferred other women to herself; she was able to lead her own life as determinedly as Sophia had led hers, but with greater charm and dignity.

It was a pleasure to see her here in her magnificent palace; and the Electress was most proud of her daughter.

"And what do you really think of my Caroline?" asked Sophia Charlotte.

"I find her a pleasant creature and I am ready to love her because he*" companionship has made you very happy."

"Few have given me greater happiness than that girl. I brought her here because I thought it my duty. Oh, I took a fancy to her from the first, but I never thought that I should find in her the daughter I have always longed to have."

"If I stayed here I should love the girl even as you do. You have made her like yourself. The other day when I heard her talking out of sight, I thought it was you I heard."

Sophia Charlotte was delighted. "I have noticed it too."

"She begins to look like you, too. She imitates you. You wear a bow on your gown one day and she does the next."

"She is the dearest creature. Sometimes I wonder what I shall do if she ever has to go away."

"Marriage, you mean?"

"I sometimes look at her with fear. She is no longer a child. Many are married at her age. I suppose the day will come..."

"Yes," agreed Sophia, "the day will come."

"You are not thinking of her for Frederick William?"

"His father would never agree."

"Wouldn't you be able to persuade him? If I know you, my dear..."

"On all but state matters. Frederick William's marriage could be that."

"A blessing for Caroline."

"You are not favourably impressed by your grandson?"

"My dearest daughter, some of us are apt to be blind where our children are concerned but you have too much sense. He is unmannerly, arrogant, ungovernable."

Sophia Charlotte looked distressed, and her mother put her hand over her daughter's.

"It happens sometimes that our children disappoint us. I can tell you I find my son George Lewis ... despicable. You and I are not the women to deceive ourselves, are we? If we are it makes a nonsense of all this fine talk we hear in these gardens of yours. No, we face the truth. There lies our strength. My eldest is a crude boor. Yours while not possessing the same deplorable characteristics has those equally bad. Face it, daughter."

"You have many children. Mother. I have only one. You were not disappointed in all."

"I had the best daughter in the world ... and so, it appears have you."

"Caroline is not my own flesh and blood."

"Now you are not being true to your theories. Caroline is all to you that any daughter could be. Are you going to love her less because you did not suffer torments to bring her into the world? Be rational. Isn't that what you say with your philosophers."

"You're right. Mother. Of what have I to complain while I have Caroline! But daughters leave their mothers when they marry—and it is that I fear, unless..."

The Electress smiled and looked absently towards the delightful fountain playing in the midst of Le Notre's magnificent handiwork.

My dearest daughter will have to face a great problem, she was telling herself. To keep her dear Caroline with her through marriage with a man, who might be considered one of the biggest catches in Germany, but is almost certain to be one of the worst husbands—or to let her marry outside and go away.

Sophia could picture her daughter, torturing herself with a hundred possibilities. Keep her and guard her? Or let her go away and possibly marry as unhappily as she would at home? It was certainly a problem. But then marriage was always a gamble; and Caroline could not be protected all her life. She must go out and face the world alone, which, Sophia was certain, Caroline would be able to do adequately.

What a pity, Sophia Charlotte was thinking, that time could not stand still and charming daughters always remain young and the dearest companions of their doting mothers!

A thought had come to the old Electress. At Hanover there was another grandson who would be needing a bride: George Augustus, son of George Lewis.

Now suppose Caroline were his bride; suppose she came to Hanover. Well, that would bring Sophia Charlotte often to Hanover; the young bride could visit Berlin frequently; and the Electress Sophia would have a daughter whom she could love and respect.

A very pleasant prospect for a woman who, as she grew older, felt a longing for young companionship and affection.

Being Sophia she said nothing as yet of this idea to her daughter. So while they sat together in one of those cosy and comfortable silences which only those who are in harmony can enjoy, Sophia Charlotte was thinking of Caroline's possible marriage to her son, while her mother explored the possibility of bringing Caroline to Hanover as the bride of George Augustus.

One day, thought Sophia Charlotte, Frederick William will be King of Prussia. My Caroline would be a Queen—and she is clever enough to handle him. What other girl could?

One day, thought the Electress Sophia, George Augustus could be King of England. Caroline would be a Queen ... and Queen of England. What higher goal than that in Germany ... or in the whole world.

The Electress Sophia talked to Caroline.

"My dear, do you speak English?"

"No," answered Caroline.

"Oh but that is shocking! You should, you know."

"There has never seemed any need."

"Never seemed any need! But it is the most important language in the world. What if you should ever go there? A fine ninny you would look not being able to understand what was said."

"I doubt if I should ever go there."

"Get that notion out of your head at once. Why, sometimes I think that all this talk of 'the why of the why' and 'where are we going' and 'leaps in the dark and what happens after death' leaves you a little foolish about the everyday business of living/'

"But please tell me why you think I should go to England?'*

"Suppose I went to England and asked you to visit me."

"Are you thinking of going?"

"Does my daughter never talk to you of her family?"

"She has done so but..."

"Then surely you are not unaware of our most important connection."

"Perhaps you will please explain."

"My mother was Elizabeth Queen of Bohemia and her father was James the Sixth of Scotland and the First of England."

"Yes I did know that."

"Let me refresh your memory. His son Charles the First was a King of England. You know his tragic story."

"Yes. He was beheaded by order of the Parliament, and Oliver Cromwell set up a Commonwealth."

"But it didn't last. The English have too much sense. A Commonwealth I They soon had his son back and the second Charles showed the people how much better it is to be ruled by a King than a Parliament."

"They are a pleasure-loving people who turned against the puritan ways, so I've heard."

"You heard correctly. Charles' brother James followed him but he was a fool and became a Catholic so for that reason he was turned out in favour of William and Mary. They had no children so Anne, Mary's sister came to the throne. She sits on it now and ... she finds it hard to get a healthy son. If she fails in this, who will be the next sovereign of England?"

Caroline dared not let the old lady see her smile. This was her favourite hobby horse. Sophia Charlotte had discussed it with her. "My mother is the shrewdest calmest woman in the world, except for one thing. Over that she is fanatical. England —and her chances of becoming Queen of that country! They are remote enough, God knows, but there is a possibility. That possibility is the ruling passion of her life."

Caroline said gently: "The deposed King has a son who might be James the Third."

"They'll never tolerate him. He's a Catholic. The English turned out the father for that reason. They'll not have the son back for the same. Where would the sense be? And the English are the most sensible people in the world. Where will they turn then for a Protestant monarch. I'll tell you, Caroline. They'll turn to Hanover. For I am the next in the line of succession. If Anne doesn't have a son—and how can she, poor dropsical gouty lady—they must turn to me if they want the Protestant religion preserved; and they do. I should be Queen of England, Caroline. And if I were I should invite you to my Court. A fine figure you would cut—not being able to speak the language. Promise me that you will learn it."

"I promise," said Caroline.

The Electress Sophia sadly said farewell.

"Goodbye my dearest daughter, write to me often. You know what your letters mean to me."

"And yours to me, Mother. Let me know all that happens at Hanover."

"And goodbye, Caroline, my dear. I shall miss your bright company. I think perhaps I shall send someone over from Hanover to kidnap you and bring you to me."

Caroline glowed with pleasure. She would never completely forget the horror of Saxony even though it was difficult now to compare herself with that unwanted child who had been forced to keep out of everyone's way for fear she should be noticed.

Sophia Charlotte was delighted too.

"You have made a favourable impression on Mother," she said, as they watched the cavalcade ride away. "And that is something that is rarely done." She put her arm about her. "Don't imagine though that I should ever allow her to kidnap you. No one is going to do that."

Sophia Charlotte's eyes had rested uneasily on her son who, in the party assembled to say farewell to the departing guests, was looking almost amiable. She knew it was because he was glad to see the last of his grandmother for a while.

He had come back from Hanover as unattractive as he had been before he went.

It might be that marriage would improve him, Sophia Charlotte deceived herself into thinking.

After the departure of the Electress Sophia the old way of life was resumed at Lutzenburg and Sophia Charlotte tried to forget the unpleasant subject of Caroline's marriage.

Her husband had now become King of Prussia and in this important role was able to indulge his love of ceremony more than ever. Secretly Caroline would have liked to join in the ceremonies and could have found great pleasure in putting on dazzling garments and appearing at state banquets. She did not mention this for she knew it would mark a difference between her and Sophia Charlotte and disappoint the latter.

But because the days were so pleasant they slipped quickly away and Caroline was now approaching her twentieth birthday. It was being suggested that she was never to marry for surely if she had been intended to, a bridegroom would have been found for her by now. On the other hand was she waiting for the Crown Prince of Prussia to reach marriageable age?

Caroline was aware of these whispers and made uneasy by them. Whenever she thought of marriage she was reminded of her mother's unhappy experience and certainly she had no wish to change the existing state of affairs. To leave Lutzenburg! How could she ever be happy anywhere else? To stay and marry Frederick William? It was difficult to know which was the worst project—to leave Lutzenburg to go to an unknown husband or to stay and marry one whom she already disliked.

The Crown Prince himself was aware of the whispers; they made him laugh and plunge into profligacy which was even more shocking than that which he had practised before.

There was a change in the air.

The King of Prussia, when he had time from state matters, was beginning to regard Caroline speculatively, pondering on the fact that she might be a useful factor in some treaty which would bring advantage to Prussia.

Caroline had a return of the nightmares which had haunted her when she had feared for her mother and which had returned now and then after her death. It was like a recurring pattern.

Oh God, save me from marriage, she prayed.

Sophia Charlotte had come to a decision. She would not lose Caroline. Anything was preferable to that.

When she went to her husband's apartments to talk to him about Caroline, he was as affectionate as usual and expressed pleasure at the visit.

"Caroline is twenty years old," she said.

"No longer a girl," he commented. "She should have had a husband years ago and a family by now."

"I have wanted to keep her with me."

"I know. But she has a life of her own to lead."

"I want to see her married but I want to see her happy too. Lutzenburg has been home to her; she loves the place; I doubt whether she will ever be really happy anywhere else."

"Oh, she'll settle down with her husband."

"I want her to remain here. Frederick William will need a wife. Why not Caroline?"

"Caroline from little Ansbach! You cannot be serious. Our son is the Crown Prince of Prussia."

"He is our son and Caroline has been as our daughter."

"She has enjoyed all the advantages a daughter of ours would have had but she is not our daughter. And when it comes to marriage these things are important. The future King of Prussia could not marry an obscure girl from a place like Ansbach."

"Why not... if we wished it?"

"But we don't wish it. You may, but I do not. Moreover I can never allow it."

He saw the surprise and sorrow in her face and was contrite.

"My dear," he said, "I have always allowed you to go your way. I have never interfered with your pleasures. I have tried in every way to give you what you want. This I cannot give you. This is the future of Prussia."

"I tell you he wouldn't find a better wife in the world than Caroline. The truth is he is unworthy of her."

"You are besotted about this girl. She's a pleasant enough creature, I'll admit. But she is not even outstandingly good-looking and she has nothing to commend her but her good health and serene disposition. Those are not enough, my dear, for the crown of Prussia and you must know it."

"I must talk to you "

"My dear, you will only distress yourself. This is something I cannot give you. Please put this idea out of your mind. Either find another husband for the girl or let her remain unmarried. But she shall not marry our son."

She knew that for the first time in their married life it would be useless to attempt to persuade him.

It was shortly after this when Sophia Charlotte clearly a little agitated, asked Caroline to walk in the gardens with her that they might talk in privacy.

She led her to a summer house and as they sat there together took her hand and said: "Caroline, this was bound to happen sooner or later. You are not a child any more and it was inevitable that sooner or later someone would ask for your hand in marriage."

Caroline grew pale and Sophia Charlotte hurried on: "It is a great honour, of course."

"Who?" asked Caroline faintly.

"It is the Archduke Charles whom they call King of Spain. Of course he has yet to win that title but ... you will understand it would be a very good match for you."

"The King of Spain!"

"In name only at the time. Louis is determined to put his grandson on the throne but we and our allies will not allow that, of course. Yes, it would be a very brilliant marriage."

"And he would marry me?"

"At the moment tentative enquiries are being made. You should not consider them certain but this is in the air and it would be an excellent marriage for you."

She did not say: My husband has no doubt had a hand in this because he is determined not to have you for our son. Yet if you are good enough for the King of Spain why not for the King of Prussia?

Of course Charles was only the titular King of Spain and Louis was powerful but...

Caroline had thrown herself into Sophia Charlotte's arms and they dung together.

"I never never want to leave you," she sobbed.

Yet when she was alone she stood before her mirror and looked at her reflection. The traces of tears still showed on her face. She was plump and pretty; she had masses of auburn hair and blue eyes; she was talented and well-educated.

"The Queen of Spain," she said aloud.

She could never be happy away from Sophia Charlotte whom she loved so dearly; she would never never find a home such as Lutzenburg had been to her; and yet she saw herself with a crown on her head, dressed in purple and ermine.

"Her Majesty, Queen of Spain," she said.

Months passed without mention of the project.

Of course, said Caroline, to herself, I should never be happy away from Sophia Charlotte. No place however grand could ever be home to me the way Lutzenburg is.

After a while she told herself it had been merely a rumour and she forgot that the marriage had been suggested.

Sophia Charlotte did not forget. Betrothal to the Archduke Charles might have come to nothing but there would be other suitors. There must be. Caroline was twenty years old. She could not keep her with her much longer.

The fact depressed her so much that she became unwell. She felt a pain in her throat which kept recurring—only slightly but painfully enough to be uncomfortable.

She discussed this with one of her attendants, a close friend named Marie von Pollnitz.

"I have not felt well since this question of Caroline's marriage has been in the air." Marie looked at her sadly for she knew that it was unlikely that she would be able to keep Caroline with her for ever. Sophia Charlotte put her hand to her throat. "I have a vague sort of pain ... here. But I believe I should feel as well as ever if the King would consent to Caroline's marrying our son."

"Your Highness might be anxious then if Caroline were not happy in her marriage."

"But we should be together for the rest of our lives. I am sure that is all Caroline would ask ... as I should. Whatever happened we should be together."

Marie, looking at her friend, thought she showed signs of her anxiety. It was the first time she had noticed that the Queen showed her age.

To her astonishment Caroline received an invitation from the Duke and Duchess of Weissenfels who would be delighted if she would spend a few days with them. She showed the invitation to Sophia Charlotte.

"Why should they suddenly remember me?"

"Why not? They are related to your mother. I daresay they have heard accounts of your charm and would like to see you. It is natural."

"I shall not go."

"It will seem churlish to refuse."

"You would come with me?"

Sophia Charlotte laughed. "My dearest, I am not invited."

"Oh but..."

"You must now and then take these little trips."

"If I go I shall not stay long."

"I hope not, my dear. I shall be longing for your return."

"Then why go at all?"

"Because you have been asked."

"And why should you not come with me? I am sure if I suggested it they would be delighted to receive you."

Sophia Charlotte shook her head. Secretly she would be glad of the respite. She was often feeling very tired and she did not wish Caroline to know this. While the girl was away she would spend the time resting and on her return would feel as well as ever.

So Caroline went to Weissenfels alone.

During her journey to Weissenfels Caroline began to feel uneasy. Had she imagined it or had Sophia Charlotte seemed as though she wanted her to go? Surely that could not have been so for she hated their parting as much as Caroline did.

But when she arrived at the castle of Weissenfels, which was a delightful spot situated among vineyards on the River Saale, she had no time for speculation; she was welcomed by the Duke and Duchess and taken to her apartments by the latter and as soon as they were alone there, the Duchess told her that a very important visitor was expected at the castle.

"Who?" asked Caroline.

The Duchess, looking a little coy, replied that it was the Archduke Charles, King of Spain.

Caroline flushed slightly but said calmly that she had heard much of him and should be interested to meet him. If she was to meet him.

"Certainly you are," was the reply. "It is to see you that he has broken his journey to call at Weissenfels."

The Archduke Charles was clearly delighted with Caroline when with an absence of ceremony they were introduced to each other by the Duke and Duchess of Weissenfels.

Charles was nineteen and gallant; he knew that the sooner he married the better; and this young woman, a year or so older than himself with her very bright blue eyes, abundant hair and lively expression seemed delightful. He had heard of her unusual intelligence for he had met people who had stayed at the Prussian Court and been invited to Lutzenburg; although she was merely the daughter of a Margrave of Ansbach she had been brought up as that of the King of Prussia.

Charles did not feel that he had made an unnecessary journey.

Although they were not allowed to be alone, the Duke and Duchess gave them opportunities for conversation; and they walked in the gardens together, with a few attendants keeping them in sight and at the same time their distance; they also sat together in the reception chamber with attendants placed too far from them to hear their conversation.

Caroline compared the Archduke Charles with Frederick William and that made her see Charles very favourably. Although there was no mention of a marriage she knew that could have been the only reason for this visit and she was vain enough to have been very disappointed if the Archduke Charles had not been favourably impressed with her.

He was so gallant that it was difficult to be sure, but she was almost certain.

King of Spain! It was a glittering title. She was discovering that she was ambitious; but how far from Lutzenburg Spain was! So how could she happily contemplate marriage into that country?

She had always known that marriage would be a state into which she would enter with trepidation. Now, when she was alone in her rooms, she would stand at her window gazing over the vineyards and think of those long ago days when she had looked out at her stepfather and his mistress caressing each other for all to see, while her mother lay in her room wondering whether her punishment for marrying him would be repudiation or death.

Marriage! She had to consider it. And either way she looked she could see unhappiness. To Spain and separation from Sophia Charlotte—to Berlin, to spend the rest of her life with her beloved foster mother. And the price? Frederick William or spinsterhood.

And when she looked at the pleasant face of the young Archduke she could not make up her mind what was preferable.

He talked of his ambitions because he could not yet talk of his more romantic intentions. Before he did this his advisers must set forth their conditions, and she supposed the King of Prussia would set forth his. They would be bargained for, wrangled over, and she was glad of this because the time necessary to do the bargaining and wrangling would enable her to think; for she believed that the final decision was hers because Sophia Charlotte would never allow her to be forced into what she did not want.

"They call me a King," her suitor told her, "but I have yet to win my kingdom."

"I hope it will not be long before you do."

He shrugged his shoulders. "The Spaniards prefer the grandson of Louis XIV."

"But your claim is greater."

His smile was deprecating. "The second son of the Emperor? Perhaps. It is a pity the King of Spain died without heirs. Then there would not have to be this war for the succession."

"Well, you have great Allies."

"Yes, William of England has made the Grand Alliance, and England and Holland as well as Austria are with me. We are determined to prevent French domination of Europe which will surely ensue if Louis gets control of Spain."

"The Electress Sophia, mother of my guardian, would tell you you could not fail if you have the English on your side."

"The great Marlborough will carry us to victory I doubt not. When I leave Weissenfels I shall make my way to England, where I shall be received by Queen Anne and have conferences with the Duke of Marlborough. I should like to see a speedy end to this matter."

"And when you are victorious, you will go immediately to Spain?"

He smiled at her intently. "Yes," he said. "I shall go to Spain. It is an interesting country. Have you ever felt that you would like to see it?"

"I think it is always interesting to see new places," replied Caroline noncommitally.

The stay of the Archduke at Weissenfels was short. He had merely come to take a look at the bride he was being offered to assure himself that she was not deformed or distasteful in any way.

Then he rode on to the Hague to embark for England and Caroline went back to Lutzenburg.

When Caroline reached the palace she went immediately to Sophia Charlotte, embraced her and told her what had happened.

"I'll never ... never leave you! " she cried.

"But you liked him ... this Archduke Charles?" said Sophia Charlotte.

"He was pleasant enough but..."

"He could well become the King of Spain. Have you thought of that?"

"I could only think that you would be in Prussia, I in Spain."

"And that is enough to make you want to refuse this match?"

"It is. I am certain of it."

"My dearest, I cannot be always with you."

"But why not?"

"Because I am older than you, and none of us can expect to live for ever."

"Let us swear to be together ... until death parts us."

"My darling, it is not right. It is not good. There is your future to think of. You will soon be twenty-one. In a few years they will be saying you are too old for marriage. You have no great titles or riches, remember, to attract a bridegroom. It is my duty to tell you that you might never get an offer to compare with this."

Caroline put her arms round Sophia Charlotte's neck. "I choose to stay with you," she said.

The King of Prussia sent for his ward. When she stood before him he looked at her more intently than he ever had before. It seemed miraculous that she could have received such an honour. Of course she was a Hohenzollern and connected with the Brandenburgs, but without fortune, without honours and titles. Why had she been chosen by the Imperial family to marry one of the sons of that House? It was true Archduke Charles was a second son, but he could be Emperor one day; he could also be King of Spain. Of course the Empire was not the mighty power it had once been; and Charles was a young man with ambitious hopes rather than actual possessions; all the same this was a brilliant offer for Caroline and he hoped she realized it.

It was Sophia Charlotte who had made this possible. She had brought up the girl in such a manner as to make her a desirable wife, without dowry and titles though she might be, and all who had met her at Lutzenburg had been impressed by her accomplishments for she was perhaps the most well educated and cultivated Princess in Germany. Sophia Charlotte had determined to educate her as though she were her own daughter—and this was the result.

He would be glad to see the girl married, for she was not going to have his son, and he was afraid that Sophia Charlotte would attempt to persuade him and although he was determined to remain firm, he might waver.

"Now, Caroline," he said, "I have great news for you. The Archduke Charles is asking for your hand in marriage."

Caroline sought to control her feelings which amazed herself. She was horrified because this would mean separation from Sophia Charlotte and yet at the same time she would have been hurt if the offer had not been made.

The King gave her his wintr)' smile. "You clearly made a good impression during your meeting at Weissenfels."

"I ... I'm pleased about that."

"Well, you don't seem to realize the honour this is. I expect at first it overwhelms you. I can tell you I did not expect anything quite so exalted. This is your great opportunity, and I am sure you are clever enough to realize that. As your guardian I am invited to meet the Elector Palatine to discuss terms, but there is one condition which will be essential. You will have to become a Catholic."

"Become a Catholic! "

"Don't look so startled. What chance do you think a Protestant would have of becoming Queen of Spain? You will have to change quickly and forget you were ever a Protestant."

"But one cannot change one's religion . . . overnight."

"You are a sensible young woman and you'll understand I'm sure that in cases like this there is no time for quibbling over doctrines. You may go now and think about it, and I expect to hear before I leave for my meeting with the Elector Palatine that you are a good Catholic."

Caroline went to her own apartments to think.

If I refused to be a Catholic there would be no marriage. The thought kept hammering in her brain. It's a way out... a way out.

She sat in Sophia Charlotte's apartments and they talked of this alarming blow to their peace.

"What must I do?" asked Caroline.

"My darling," answered Sophia Charlotte, "you yourself must decide."

"If I follow my own wishes I would never never leave you," cried Caroline passionately.

"Between every mother and child of our rank this choice has to be made. I loved my own mother dearly. We were to each other almost as you and I are. But I had to leave her. The wrench was fearful ... to leave everything that is home and go to a strange land. It is the fate of all Princesses unless they don't marry and I do not think that often brings happiness."

"I would be happy to stay with you forever."

"It may be that I should not always be here."

"Don't talk like that. I can't bear it."

"My dearest, it is wrong of me. I shall always be here when you want me."

"You left Hanover for Berlin. It is not so very far. But I should leave Berlin for Spain."

"You would have children and when you hold your first baby in your arms you would regret nothing. It is nature's way of solace."

"You seek to comfort me, but I shall not leave you." She laughed suddenly. "He won't have me unless I become a Catholic. What do you say to that? Should I become a Catholic?"

"I should never presume to advise you on such a matter."

"I knew it."

"This decision shall be entirely in your hands."

How rare for a Princess sought in marriage to have the chance of making her own decision! Who else in the world, but Sophia Charlotte, would have made this possible? But to force anyone to marriage would be against all those principles which had been discussed so freely in the gardens of Lutzenburg.

Caroline was torn with doubts and fears. She wanted to stay with Sophia Charlotte; she didn't want life to change. That was clear enough. And yet did she want to remain unmarried all her life? She had discovered that she was ambitious and to be the Queen of Spain would have been a glittering future for any princess.

Glittering prospects in exchange for the love and companionship of Sophia Charlotte. It was a bitter choice.

There was one fact to which she clung. She must become a Catholic. Thank God she did not have to give an immediate answer. And while she battled with her emotions she could talk of the difficulties of changing her religion.

The King of Prussia was impatient.

"You must be mad," he said, "if you don't accept this offer. I can tell you, princes and ministers have been known to change their minds. While you prevaricate they may be looking elsewhere. The best thing you can do is say you are eager to change your religion and are ready to receive immediate instruction."

"But I am not ready and I am as yet undecided."

"Do you expect me to tell the Elector Palatine that?"

"You must tell him the truth, I suppose."

"You set a high value on yourself."

"I have been taught to be truthful and I cannot change my ideas of religion for the sake of a possible crown."

"It is all this talk you have listened to."

But he dared not force her to accept. Sophia Charlotte would never forgive him if he did.

So he met the Elector Palatine and told him that Caroline needed time to come to a decision about her religion and as a result the Elector sent Father Orban, his Jesuit confessor, to Lutzenburg to instruct Caroline and show her that the Catholic Faith was the only true one.

The Electress Sophia, hearing that the Archduke Charles had made Caroline an offer, came to visit Lutzenburg.

When she saw Caroline she was not surprised that the Archduke was eager for the marriage.

"She reminds me more than ever of what you were at her age," she told her daughter. "So, they are going to make a Catholic of her!"

"If she will become one," Sophia Charlotte reminded her mother.

"Surely anyone in their right senses would be ready to say a few masses for the sake of a crown?"

"You are cynical. Mother."

"I call it being reasonable."

"You have never been a religious woman."

"And have you?"

"I have never been able to see that one way is all good the other all bad. There are so many sides to all questions."

"And so you have talked and talked with your philosophers to try and find the answers. How have you succeeded?"

"Not with any real success. We always seem to arrive back at the point where we started. The answer is: 'It may be this, it may be that, but the truth is wrapped in doubt.* And until I die I shall not be sure what happens after death."

"And Caroline?"

"She believes as I do."

"So..."

"I am uncertain. It is a brilliant offer."

"Queen of Spain," mused the old Electress. "But he has to win his own crown before he has one to place on her head. But still she'd be a Queen of Spain if he is victorious. I can think of a crown I'd rather wear."

Sophia Charlotte smiled at her mother. "Might it be the crown of England?"

"I'd like to see George Augustus married. I'd say he has as much likelihood of getting a crown as Master Archduke Charles."

"Do you mean you would like Caroline for George Augustus?"

"Why not? She would not have to change her religion for him."

"But the changing of religion does not shock you. I remember you had me brought up in such a manner that you could pop me either into Catholicism or Protestantism at a moment's decision, according to the offers you received for me. A Catholic Prince and then it would be 'Oh she is a Catholic'. A better offer from a Protestant and 'All her life she has been a Protestant.' Worldly wise and theologically deplorable."

"And, my darling, what happened? I have the best of daughters."

"You were determined to do the best for me as I am for Caroline. Our views differ. As I see it she shall not be forced into marriage. I despair of losing her, yet I shall make no effort to detain her. She has been brought up to respect the freedom of individuals. Now she shall have it and use it as she will."

The old Electress's shrewd eyes were speculative.

She wanted this girl for her daughter-in-law. She would say nothing to her as yet. George Augustus had not a good reputation and this girl had been brought up to make her own decisions. But a little persuasion would be reasonable ... and worldly wise.

Caroline listened to the words of Father Orban.

The Catholic Faith was the true faith, the only faith, and only by adhering to it could she enter the Kingdom of Heaven. "This is the undefiled, the genuine, the pure holy truth. Break from the heretics and for the sake of your soul cling to the truth...."

Caroline was thinking: I should be Queen of Spain. And she saw herself riding through the streets of Madrid; she heard the shouts of the people. "Long live the Queen of Spain. Long live Queen Caroline! "

And the young man who would ride beside her was pleasant and courteous.

She would have children ... and when she held the first of them in her arms the pain of separation would begin to be numbed. She would love the child as she loved Sophia Charlotte and all her hopes and ambitions would be for her son.

Poor Father Orban! He was so earnest. He did not know that she had heard those arguments again and again and that they meant nothing to her. She doubted she would ever be truly religious.

When she left Father Orban she would walk in the gardens with Leibniz.

"You will never accept the Catholic Faith," he told her.

"Is it necessary to do so to call yourself a Catholic?"

"Do you think you would care for life in Spain?"

He looked at her shrewdly. How much did she know of his inner thoughts? They had made a clever girl of their Caroline . . . he, Sophia Charlotte and their friends.

The Electress Sophia was against the marriage. He knew why. She wanted Caroline for Hanover. What a better prospect for Caroline ... and Leibniz ... for Sophia Charlotte ... for them all!

It was not exactly selfish to work for Hanover and against Spain. What future would there be for a free thinker in Spain, the land of the Inquisition and bigotry? Better to have accepted the custodianship of the Vatican and become a servant of the Pope than go to Spain.

"If you remember all the conversations we have had here, if they have meant anything to you, you will never go to Spain."

No, she thought in the solitude of her room, I shall never go to Spain.

Sophia Charlotte showed her a letter she had received from the Elector Palatine.

He knew, he wrote, that Caroline was being instructed in the Catholic faith by Father Orban, but the Father was a little disappointed by the obstruction she put forward. She seemed to make argument rather than accept instruction. The Elector Palatine knew that Caroline was an unusually intelligent young woman and it was partly for this reason that they were anxious for her to marry the Archduke, but they believed in Austria that she was being a little recalcitrant. If Charlotte Sophia would persuade her, for, as Caroline's guardian, she must rejoice in this brilliant offer which was being put before her, if she would point out the advantages of becoming a Catholic, the Elector Palatine was sure that Her Serene Highness the Princess of Ansbach would see good sense the quicker.

"And this is my answer," said Sophia Charlotte showing it to Caroline.

The Queen of Prussia thanked the Elector Palatine for his letter but it was her firm belief that the matter of choosing religion was a choice—like that of marriage—which should be left to the individual and she would do nothing to persuade Her Serene Highness, the Princess of Ansbach, to make her choice. It must rest entirely with her.

"It's true, my dearest," said Sophia Charlotte; "the choice must be yours."

The Electress Sophia talked to Caroline. She implored her to make a wise decision; she herself had always felt the Catholics to be too fanatical for her taste; and she had heard such sad tales of the way Protestants were persecuted in Spain. It was, as her daughter Sophia Charlotte reiterated so often, for Caroline to make the choice, but there were matters she should consider very carefully.

"Spain is a great country. It would be an honour to be its Queen but it could not compare with the honour of being Queen of England, and England would want a Protestant Queen. I always knew it and I believe the English to be right."

The Electress Sophia felt frustrated for how could she tell Caroline that she wanted her to be the bride of her own grandson before she had discussed this matter with her son.

She thought she ought to go back to Hanover without delay and talk over the matter with George Lewis. She believed she could persuade him easily for he was not deeply interested in his son.

She wished she could say openly, instead of by hints, that Caroline should refuse the match with Spain for she might have a more brilliant possibility presented to her before long.

Sophia Charlotte said goodbye to her mother and promised to visit her soon.

"For," said the Electress Sophia, "you have allowed this matter to worry you and you are not looking as well as I should like to see you."

Get her to Hanover, thought the Electress, and there discuss the desirability of keeping Caroline in their own intimate circle.

Caroline listened to Father Orban. He spoke so earnestly that he was almost convincing. Then she would walk with Gottfried Leibniz and he would be even more so.

Sophia Charlotte did not want her to go.

Of course I shall never leave her, thought Caroline.

She was not sleeping as well as she usually did. She was haunted by dreams of the past mingling with thoughts of the future. Once she dreamed she saw the Queen of Spain being crowned. She thought it was herself until she saw her mother's face under the diadem.

No, she thought, I shall never go to Spain. In any case he is not yet King; and the King of France is determined that he never shall be; and the King of France is surely one of the most powerful men in the world.*

There came a letter from her brother who, on the death of their stepbrother had become Margrave of Ansbach.

"I have heard of your difficulties," he wrote. "Why not come and stay awhile in Ansbach? Here you can live quietly, away from all controversy. It would be a good place in which to make your decision."

When she showed this invitation to Sophia Charlotte, the latter thought it would be an excellent idea for her to go and stay for a short while with her brother. They had seen so little of each other and the invitation was cordial. Moreover it would be a good idea for her to get right away from Lutzenburg to make her decision. There she would discover more easily what she wanted to do.

So Caroline decided she would go to Ansbach for a short stay.

While Caroline had been the centre of attraction, Frederick William, piqued to find himself in the shade, had been behaving with more than his usual arrogance. Sophia Charlotte, who secretly had been feeling less well as each week passed and doing her utmost to hide this fact, agreed with the King that perhaps a tour of foreign countries might teach their son better manners.

She hated parting with him for she loved him dearly and tried to convince herself that he would outgrow his violent temper and arrogant ways, for she, who was so eager to discover the truth about life and death, could deceive herself about this son who so disappointed her.

The King was in agreement with her and while Caroline set off for Ansbach, Frederick William started his Grand Tour.

Without the two young people Sophia Charlotte found the palace unbearably lonely. Secretly she did not believe that the culture of other courts would change her son; and she was afraid of the decision Caroline might come to. If Caroline married her nephew George Augustus, their separation need not be of long duration; she could make many reasons for visiting her mother, and the Electress and Caroline could be constantly at Lutzenburg.

The Electress had begged her not to delay her visit to Hanover; she knew for what reason; and because she was so lonely she decided to make plans to go at once.

The pain in her throat had grown more acute and in addition the bouts of discomfort had been more frequent. She could see the change in her appearance and wondered whether others noticed it.

The weather was particularly cold that January and Marie von Pollnitz advised her against traveling until later.

"Shall I wait till Caroline returns?" she demanded. "Why then I shall not want to leave Lutzenburg. No, I shall go now, and by the time I return perhaps she will be with me."

So inspite of the weather she went on making her preparations.

The King protested. Why the hurry? he wanted to know. She could visit her mother in the spring. Did she guess what the roads were like?

She shrugged aside his warnings. She had promised to pay this visit. They were expecting her and nothing would induce her to postpone it.

Sophia Charlotte and her retinue set out from Berlin one bitterly cold day and began the journey to Hanover. She had been feeling increasingly ill before she started and as they trundled along the frozen roads and the icy wind penetrated her carriage she became exhausted.

The pain in her throat had increased and was now almost perpetual. She was finding it difficult to swallow and consequently avoided eating; and by the time they reached Magdeburg she knew that she would have to stop and rest awhile.

Marie von Pollnitz begged her to stay there until the spring but she merely shrugged the suggestions aside.

"There is so much to do/' she said.

"But it can be done later."

"No," said Sophia Charlotte, "I have a feeling that what has to be done must be done now."

Marie looked alarmed and Sophia Charlotte turned from her; she put her hand involuntarily to her throat. She could now definitely feel the obstruction there.

A few days later, although her condition had worsened if anything, they set out for Hanover.

The Electress Sophia was worried at the condition of her daughter. She put her to bed immediately and sent for her doctors. The diagnosis was terrifying. The Queen of Prussia was suffering from a tumour of the throat and there was no hope of recovery: in fact her end was imminent.

Sophia could not believe it. Her daughter was thirty-seven years old; it was too young to die, particularly as a short while ago she had seemed in perfect health.

"There is a mistake," she declared, and called in more doctors; but the answer they gave after examination was the same.

"We must save her," cried Sophia. "She can't die like this ... at her age."

But she knew that the doctors were right. The change in her beloved daughter was horrifying. In a short time she seemed to grow emaciated and her once lovely complexion had turned dull yellow.

She talked to her eldest son, George Lewis, who had been the Elector since the death of his father Ernest Augustus. "Your sister has come home to die."

"Better if she'd decided to do it in her own home," he muttered.

"This is her home. The only thing for which I am grateful is that she has come home to die."

George Lewis turned away; he was not a man to waste words. He would stick to his opinion and his mother could have hers; he still thought that a death at the Palace was an inconvenience—particularly when it should by rights have happened somewhere else.

"You're an insensitive oaf, George Lewis," she told him, for once forgetting his rank, for which she always had a great respect, and treating him as the child in the nursery whom she had never been able to love. "Don't you care for anyone but your tall malkin and your fat hen."

George Lewis received these references to his two favourite mistresses with unconcern. He muttered: "She should have stayed in Berlin."

The Electress Sophia was too distressed to quarrel with her son. She wondered then as she had so many times before how she could have borne such a son.

And he went on living and her dearest Sophia Charlotte ... but it would not bear thinking of even for an old stoic like herself. She had lost three sons and now all that was left to her were George Lewis with whom she could well have done without, Maximilian who was a rebel and a constant cause for anxiety because he was continually in conflict with his brother who had sent him into exile, and her youngest named after his father, Ernest Augustus. Three sons and one beloved daughter. It seemed her fate that her best loved children would be taken from her.

That cherished project of marrying Caroline to George Augustus must be shelved. They had death on their minds instead of marriage.

Gone were all those pleasant plans for the future—frequent journeyings between Hanover and Berlin, Sophia to gain a granddaughter, her own beloved daughter's daughter.

But thus it had always been, thought Sophia. How many times had she thought to reaUze a cherished dream to find it snatched from her?

It was life; and must be borne. She, an old woman, knew that well.

As it became more and more apparent that there was no hope of saving her daughter's life, Sophia was so stricken with grief that she became ill, and had to keep to her bed.

It was as well, said her servants, for the death bed scene with this daughter whom she loved best in the world would have tortured her beyond endurance.

Sophia Charlotte lay back on her pillows. In spite of her suffering there was a look of contentment on her face. A short while before, when she knew death was close, she had talked to her mother of Caroline, and Sophia had promised that she would do all she could to take her daughter's place with the girl. Sophia had talked of her plan to bring Caroline to Hanover. "There," said Sophia, "she shall be as my own daughter."

"Let her take my place with you," begged Sophia Charlotte.

"That is yours and no one can have it," answered Sophia. "But I already love her and would always care for her."

"For my sake," murmured Sophia Charlotte.

The Electress was so distressed by this conversation that Sophia Charlotte had been unable to continue with it; but that did not matter for she had the reassurance she needed.

And afterwards the old Electress, having to face the fact that death was imminent, broke down. Her stoicism deserted her. She could accept misfortune but not this greatest tragedy of all.

Now as Sophia Charlotte's life was slipping away she said goodbye to her brothers, George Lewis and Ernest Augustus. The latter wept; the former regarded her expressionlessly, and she remembered them so well from nursery days. George Lewis who never needed their companionship, who was content to be alone playing with his soldiers, who refused to learn to bow or converse graciously. Poor George Lewis—unloved by his family and not caring ... only wanting soldiers, real ones now, and of course women. And Ernest Augustus the baby who was always pushed aside because he was too young to join in; she remembered his standing by wistfully pleading with his eyes to be allowed to join the game and finally out of pity being given the humblest part to play. And Max ... dear gay mischievous Max, who was far away now because he hated his brother and could never resist the opportunity of plotting against him. There was another member of the family whom she had known for a while—poor sad Sophia Dorothea, her sister-in-law, who had had the misfortune to be chosen as the wife of George Lewis. They had not been great friends; she had found the lovely elegant Sophia Dorothea too frivolous for her, but she had been an enchanting creature. How could George Lewis condemn hei to a lonely prison because she had taken a lover?

But that was the old life—a new adventure lay before her. In a short time now she would face the unknown.

"You are sorry for me," she said to those about her bed. "Why? I have always wanted to satisfy my curiosity about life after death. My friends ... even Leibniz ... could not explain that to me. Now I am going to find out. There is nothing to weep for."

"We have sent word to the King of Prussia," said George Lewis.

She tried to smile. "He will give me a splendid funeral," she said. "And although it will not matter to me, it will please him for he loves pomp and ceremony."

She saw her nephew and niece by her bedside—George Augustus and pretty young Sophia Dorothea named after her ill-fated mother.

"I hope you will be happy," she said and held out a hand to the girl. Sophia Dorothea, so pretty and so like her mother, came forward, took it and kissed it.

"Bless you, my dear child," said Sophia Charlotte. "I wish you a happy life. And you too, George Augustus. May you find a good wife and live as happily as is possible on this earth."

Marie von Pollnitz had brought a chaplain into the room. And Sophia Charlotte asked him what he wanted.

He said that he had come to pray with her.

"Let me die without quarrelling with you," she said. "For years I have studied religious questions. You can tell me nothing that I don't know already. And I die in peace."

"Your Highness in the sight of God, Kings and Queens are mortally equal with all men," said the chaplain.

"I know it well," she answered.

Then she closed her eyes.

She was smiling serenely as she passed into the unknown.

Caroline saw the riders coming into Ansbach. She ran down to greet them for she believed they would have letters from Sophia Charlotte.

She stood impatiently in the hall of the Ansbach Palace under the Glorification of Karl the Wild as the messengers approached, and wondered why they looked so sombre.

"Your Serene Highness," said one, "there is bad news from Hanover."

"What news?" she demanded.

"The Queen of Prussia has died on a visit to her mother "

"Dead! " She heard the word but was not sure who had said it. She was aware of a rushing in her eyes, a sudden dizziness. This was not true. This was a nightmare. There was not such misery possible in the whole of the world.

She gripped the statue of the Margrave to steady herself. And she said again in a voice of utter desolation: "Dead! " There was nothing more to say. Her world was shattered; there was no reason for making decisions, for caring what became of her; there was nothing more in life to live for.