Queen in waiting

The Courtship of Caroline

When the greatest catastrophe imaginable struck, one did not sit down and weep senseless tears, at least not if one were the Electress Sophia of Hanover. There was only one way of living and that was to become busily occupied in some new project.

There must be an attempt to fill the emptiness left by the irreplaceable. One must look for substitutes.

The Princess Caroline, herself emotionally crippled, could help Sophia bear a grief which they shared. That they would have in common and so much more.

Finding no comfort in prayer—either, as Sophia said, reproaching, or pleading for better treatment from, a Divine Being—she tried to set in motion a plan which, if it materialized, would at least make life tolerable.

If she could bring Caroline to Hanover, she would soothe her grief, give herself a new interest in life, and so continue living for the years which were left to her.

Poor Caroline! No one now would plan for her happiness as Sophia Charlotte had done. She was not a weak young fool, but she was without powerful friends.

The sooner I can marry her to George Augustus the better, thought the Electress Sophia; and set herself to work out a scheme for doing this.

It was exasperating to think that she had first to get George Lewis's permission. In fact it was the same in everything. He was the master now; and what a different place he had made of the court at Hanover since his father's death! He had all his father's lechery and none of his wit; although of course during the lifetime of Ernest Augustus she had had to endure the reign of the notorious Clara von Platen who had been his maitresse en titre for so many years.

George Lewis at least had had the wisdom or the luck to choose stupid women for his mistresses. They would never interfere in politics as Clara von Platen had done. George Lewis was like a lumbering great ox; he had no finesses such as his father had; he was without sensitivity; but he kept his women in order, and when he beckoned to one she immediately rose and followed him; and the others dared not protest. He made it clear that women for him were of use in one place only and that was the bedchamber.

Sophia had risen from her sick bed feeling weak and exhausted, not perhaps ready to do battle with her son; and yet she felt the need for speedy action. Who could say, now that Sophia Charlotte was dead perhaps Caroline would try to forget her misery by embarking on a new life as wife to the Archduke Charles.

She went to her beloved Herrenhausen to try to recover her health and decide what should be done but even Herrenhausen which, during her husband's lifetime, she had considered hers, was not the same. For one thing George Lewis had refused to let her have the place to herself. She must be contented with one wing, he said. Herrenhausen like the Alte Palais and the Leine Schloss belonged to him and he would have her remember it.

Dear Herrenhausen with so many memories of the past, with its avenue of limes and its park which was really too grand for the rather unpretentious house which without its grounds would indeed look merely like a gentleman's house and not a Palace! One hundred and twenty acres laid out, naturally, in the manner of Versailles, with the inevitable statues and fountains; the terraces, the parterres.

Here she had walked with dear Sophia Charlotte before her marriage. How unhappy the girl had been and how it had hurt Sophia to part with her—more so she believed than it had hurt Sophia Charlotte to go. But the marriage had been a good one for she had become Queen of Prussia and the King had been indulgent to her. If their son could marry young Sophia Dorothea the family would be kept intact. Would his father agree?

In the meantime there was Caroline—the immediate problem. She must throw herself into this for the sake of Caroline, for the sake of Sophia Charlotte's memory and because when you were old there was nothing left except living through the young.

She sent a message to the Leine Schloss requesting George Lewis to come to Herrenhausen to see her since she was not well enough to go to him.

He sent an ungracious message back that he was detained that day but would, if his business permitted, visit her the next.

"He has the manners of a stable boy," she grumbled. Unfortunately it was this stable boy who ruled them all at Hanover.

In a grudging mood, George Lewis set out for Herrenhausen which was about two miles from Hanover.

What was his mother after now? he wondered. He had been disturbed enough by the foolish action of his sister in coming to her old home to die. Since she must have known how ill she was, why hadn't she stayed at home to die decently. He hated sentimental scenes and had no intention of indulging in them.

Not that his mother was fond of them either.

No, it was more likely that she had some proposition to put to him and believed his sister's death might have put him in a mood to grant it. She was making a big mistake if she did—and his mother was not one to make mistakes.

George Lewis's plain dark face looked even more dour than usual as he rode between the double avenue of limes. He liked the orderliness of the Park for he could not endure untidiness. His affairs were conducted in an efficient manner and he believed, rightly, that since he had been Elector, the prestige of Hanover had risen in other countries. There might be more splendid courts among the German states, but there was none so prosperous as Hanover and this prosperity, begun by his father, had been increased by George Lewis. He had been a cruel husband; he was a promiscuous lover having three favourite mistresses; he was a dour son and an indifferent parent; but if he had no idea how to win affection, he understood very well how to rule a state. Industry had flourished since his rule; farming prospered; he was growing richer and so was his Electorate. Even his mother could fmd no fault with his rule. And how had he done it? By keeping the women out; by trusting no one but himself.

He was vindictive as his wife had discovered to her cost; his manners were coarse; he had no refinements; and the only artistic pleasure he ever received was from music. As a result his Opera House was as fine as anything they had in Vienna.

He made his way to that wing of the house which he had assigned to his mother, and when he threw open the door her attendants scattered; he did not have to speak to them, only to frown and they were gone.

He did not kiss his mother's hand; he merely nodded to her and sprawled in the chair by her bed, his legs thrust out, his heels resting on her carpet, while he studied the tops of his boots as though he found them more interesting than her.

How did we manage to get this one? Sophia wondered, as she had many times before. If I hadn't borne him myself I'd say he had been foisted on us. How did we allow him to be brought up without grace, without charm, without manners? Yet he had excelled as a soldier and now was showing he could rule.

"It was good of you to come, George Lewis," she said a trifle acidly, "good of you to call on your mother when she asked you to."

"I had nothing important to do today."

"Then I must be grateful for that," she retorted ironically.

He grunted. "What's your business?" he asked.

"You don't ask how I am?"

"Well, you're better, aren't you? You wouldn't have asked me to come if you were ill. So what point in asking I "

"As a matter of courtesy perhaps."

He puffed contemptuously. So they might do in the stables. And he in the presence of the granddaughter of a King of England! What would they think of him in England if he ever went there? And go there he must ... a King. She thought of Charles, her cousin, roaming the Continent before his Restoration. He had had all the charm of the Stuarts. Who would believe that this heavy jowled awkward Hanoverian was in any way connected with the Royal Stuarts. What would the English think of him!

"No sense in asking questions when you know the answer."

"You've too much sense perhaps and not enough sensibility."

"Eh?"

My son! she thought. This is my son!

She must get down to the matter in hand before he rudely told her he had no time to waste.

"I wanted to see you about George Augustus."

The scowl deepened. George Lewis had no love for his son. His marriage had gone sour very quickly and how could it have been otherwise with such a man? Though in his way he was faithful enough to his mistresses and kept them in favour even when they lost their looks.

"What about him?"

"He's no longer a boy."

"I know his age very well."

"It is time he was married."

"Married?"

"Why not. He needs a wife. He needs to get sons."

George Lewis was silent thinking of the boy. He could not bear the sight of him. Perhaps because he reminded him of his mother. He was almost pretty and although he was fair and his mother was dark the resemblance was strong. He was small— too small for a boy, neat and willowy, as she had been; and he had a way of gesticulating which was rather French. George Lewis liked the gardens to be laid out in a French style but he did not like French manners in his son. They were clearly inherited from his mother who was half French; perhaps that was why he was constantly reminded.

It was not that he regretted what he had done to his wife. In his opinion she deserved her fate and he didn't think of her unless her name was mentioned and on those rare occasions when his son or daughter reminded him of her by their looks.

"You've someone in mind," asked George Lewis.

"Yes. Caroline of Ansbach."

"What! My sister's adopted girl?"

"Why not? We should have to act quickly for the Archduke Charles is in the field."

"You mean he's asked for her?"

"She is considering whether she will accept him."

"Then she must be a fool."

"Why?"

"She won't get another such chance."

"How do you know? Austria considered her worthy, why not Hanover?"

"The boy's not ready for marriage."

"He's nearly twenty-one."

"He seems retarded. More like a child than a man."

"How can you say that, George Lewis?"

"Posturing! Dressing himself up! Throwing his hands about."

"He is certainly more gracious than his father."

"And you think that makes a man of him?"

"I say he's old enough for marriage and I think Caroline would make him a good wife. What do you say? I tell you we should act without delay."

George Lewis grunted.

"I wish you wouldn't make those animal noises," she said sharply. "They may be intelligible to your soldiers but they're not to me."

"I've other matters to think of."

"This happens to involve the succession."

"The succession! With you it's an obsession."

"Surely you must admit that to be King of England would be a more inviting prospect than Elector of Hanover?"

"No! No. I don't/'

"I marvel at you. Have you no ambition?"

"I'm content where I am."

"Content! To go off and fight periodically and live like a common soldier? Yes, I can see you would be well content with that. What will you do when the Spanish Succession has been settled? What will you do for fighting then? To fight ... and then come home and rule your little state and bestow your favours in turn on your three favourites! Even your choice of mistresses is laughable. Schulemburg is well past her youth— she's lost any beauty she ever had and she never did have any brains to lose. Kielmansegge-Clara von Platen's daughter! She might very likely be your own sister. When I come to think of it she's not unlike you. And the young Countess von Platen— she's the only one with any pretensions to looks. But I hear she doesn't get the opportunities the other two do to amuse Your Highness."

This was foolish. Sophia knew it as soon as she had spoken; but she was not herself and the sight of George Lewis lolling in his chair was more irritating than usual. A great bitterness was in her heart because she had lost her beloved daughter.

Why did she have to die and this one be left to her? Why had she lost the children she loved best and been left with those she cared little for.

George Lewis appeared to be unmoved by these reproaches. He yawned.

"I've work to do," he said.

"But this project of a wife for George Augustus?"

"It'll be taken care of when I'm ready."

He caught his foot in a stool and kicked it aside. The door shut behind with a bang.

She should have waited, Sophia reproached herself. She had been too upset as yet.

There was no time to be lost, and she feared her reckless handling of the situation had spoilt any hope there might have been.

George Augustus was in his apartments in the Leine Schloss trying on a wig while his servants fluttered round him.

"This is most becoming, Your Highness. The colour is your own."

"Yes ... yes..." muttered George Augustus, looking at his neat, almost pretty face. "That is good." He fondled the tight curls of the wig. It gave him height. One of the great disappointments of his life was his lack of inches. "Another four and I'd be passable; another four on top of that and I'd be tall," he often thought. As it was, it could only be exasperating that the heir of Hanover was so much shorter than most other men about him. More so was the fact that he was not allowed to do anything that a man of his age should be doing. His father went off to the wars every year, but was George Augustus allowed to go? Certainly not. One day he would be the Elector of Hanover. But would his father allow him to take part in government and prepare himself? No! He hated his father and he was sure his father hated him.

His sister Sophia Dorothea came into the room. She was seventeen, more than three years younger than he was, and very pretty. Their mother's daintiness which they had botli inherited looked well enough in her.

There was a bond between them. When they were young he had told her why they never saw their mother and they planned together how they would rescue her.

Now he dismissed his servants because he guessed she had something secret to say to him. Sophia Dorothea could never hide anything and she was clearly excited.

As soon as they were alone, she said: "Our father has gone to Herrenhausen. He is not in a good temper."

"Is he ever?"

"Yes," giggled Sophia Dorothea, "when he retires with the tall Malkin."

"No, he's in a better temper with the Platen woman."

"But he prefers the other from habit." She looked over her shoulder. "Sometimes I wonder whether he ever thinks of our mother. It was here that it happened ... in this very Schloss."

"Much he cares about her. But what have you to tell me?"

"Why has our grandmother asked him to go to see her at Herrenhausen? His company will hardly help her to recover. It must be something important, mustn't it?"

"I daresay."

"Then what?"

"I've no idea."

"Well, I have an idea. And I think I'm right. It's about you."

"About me. He's going to let me go with the armies after all!"

"Of course not. You're a son ... the only son. You can't be allowed to go to the wars until you've got a son. Now I'm sure ... being just a little bit like our revered father you may have one ... two or even three by now ... but they aren't legitimate and so they can't be the heirs of Hanover. Why, if Father was to die and you were to die, what would happen to Hanover?"

"What are you driving at?"

"George Augustus, you're dense! You spend too much time admiring your pretty face. Our grandmother wants you to be married ... soon. She wants you to produce the heir which will make it possible for you or our father to be killed without calamity to the house."

"I see. But you have a pleasant way of putting it."

"It's being brought up here. Father sets us such an example in finesse and diplomatic conversation."

"I believe you hate him as much as I do."

"I have to be in the fashion. Everybody hates him ... except the tall Malkin and fat hen and of course Madam von Platen."

"What have you heard?"

"I've heard a little and deduced much. That's feminine intuition, brother. You don't believe in it—nor does father. Mind it isn't your downfall. It's time you married. It's time we both married. Father is too busy being a soldier and a lecher to remember this. But as Grandmother is neither, she does. She is talking to him now about your matrimonial prospects."

"You're romancing."

"One has to introduce romance somehow into this dreary place. Poor Mamma! I wish I could remember her. They say she was lovely. I wonder if she still is. I saw a picture of her once. She was in a simple white gown with flowers ... real flowers draped about her head. She was not wearing jewels ... and she was so beautiful. How could he! How could he!"

"I remember her at the window. She stood there with the tears falling down her face ..."

Sophia Dorothea threw her arms about her brother's neck. "You tried to rescue her. My dear brave George Augustus."

"I was too young and silly. I didn't plan well enough. What was the use of escaping from a hunting party and riding to Ahlden. I thought I'd capture her and ride away with her."

"It wasn't so silly. You could have taken her to Wolfenbuttel. They would have helped there."

"It might have started a war. One doesn't think of these things."

"Well, if I'd been there I'd have helped you. And so would Grandmother Cellc. Poor sad Grandmother Celle! She is the only one who ever sees our mother. She tells her all about us, George Augustus ... the things we say. I send my love to her and yours too. What right had he to take our mother from us?"

"It's all done with now...."

"Done with. When she's there ... in that prison. What must it be like to be sent to prison and kept there for years and years and years ... just because you took a lover. He had Schulemburg-burg then."

"He thought it was different for him. And so it was."

"George Augustus, don't tell me that. If my husband is unfaithful to me I shall be unfaithful to him! "

"So you think you're going to have a husband too?"

"Of course. They wouldn't leave me unmarried. And I'll tell you something. I know who it is."

"You must have your ear to every keyhole."

"I wouldn't stoop to such indignity."

"Your intuition?"

"Partly. I shall be the future Queen of Prussia."

"What. You'd marry Frederick William?"

"And why not? What better match could I make? I shall not be far from home ... and a Queen, George Augustus. Think of that."

"I'm thinking of Frederick William. I shouldn't have thought he would have fitted in with your romantic fancies. His manners are as bad as our father's."

"That would be quite impossible. I like Frederick William and he likes me. I know you and he fought. I know you hate him. But I like him ... and he liked me. In fact he said he would marry me.'*

"You're inventing that."

"I'm not. But that is for the future. First they will find a wife for you and I think I know who she will be."

"Who?"

"Caroline of Ansbach."

"Caroline of Ansbach, but..."

"Aunt Sophia Charlotte treated her as a daughter. Grandmother liked her too. I wouldn't mind taking a bet that Aunt Sophia Charlotte travelled here to talk to Grandmother about the marriage. Why else should she have come in the bad weather and died here?"

"I don't think this Caroline would be considered suitable."

"Wouldn't she? When the King of Spain is after her?"

"The King of Spain! "

"Well, he's not King yet, I know. He's got to end this war by winning it first. But at least he's a son of the Imperial House. So if Caroline is good enough for him, don't you think she's good enough for you?"

"But if he's asked for her, she'll take him. She'd be a fool not to."

"You can never tell. Still what's good enough for the King of Spain would be good enough for you eh? And if she refused the King of Spain and accepted the Electoral Prince of Hanover well... that would be a triumph, wouldn't it?"

George Augustus was looking in the mirror adjusting his wig, and Sophia Dorothea burst out laughing.

"I see the King of Spain is making Caroline a very acceptable bride," she said.

George Lewis had paid more attention to his mother's suggestion than she had realized. It was time George Augustus was married, he was thinking. He was twenty-one and while he was begetting illegitimate sons he might as well produce one or two who were legitimate. He would have to be allowed to go to war sooner or later and there was always a risk of death. He himself never shielded himself—half the fun of war would be lost if he did—and although he despised this son of his, George Lewis had no reason to believe he was a coward. George Augustus had petitioned again and again to be given a command in the army.

Yes, it was time he was married.

And Caroline of Ansbach? He had heard good reports of her. His sister had brought her up and had had a very high opinion of her; she would live in harmony with his mother, and she was apparently a healthy young girl.

He himself had only two children which he admitted was a pity. If he had had a normal married life like his mother and father he would have a brood of children now—always a wise thing for a ruler. But he hadn't seen his wife for eleven years when she had been caught in adultery, divorced and sent away from Hanover to spend the rest of her life in prison. He had no intention of seeing her now, nor allowing her to have her freedom; and he felt no remorse. But he did realize that it would not be a good thing for George Augustus to make such a disastrous marriage.

His own marriage had been arranged by his parents and those of his wife—their fathers were brothers; and the marriage had been part of a grand reconciliation between them. He had not wanted marriage with the pretty silly creature; nor had she wanted marriage with him, who, she considered, was gross, crude, coarse and everything she had been brought up to dislike.

If they had been allowed to have any say in the matter that marriage would never have taken place and it might have been that a family of healthy boys would now be his.

He disliked his son but for the good of Hanover, for which he cared more than anything else, he did not want him to make a marriage similar to that of his parents. He should not be hustled into marriage as they had been. He should have a chance to see his bride, to approve of her, to be sure that he could live in reasonable harmony with her. He should not be forced into marriage ... at least not if he was prepared to make a reasonable choice.

George Lewis walked through the old Leine Schloss. He did not avoid those apartments which had belonged to his wife. Usually he passed through them without thinking; but in view of the recent interview with his mother and this talk of marriage, Sophia Dorothea was in his thoughts.

Here she had received Konigsmarck on that fateful night; and after he left her he would have had to cross this large apartment which was known as the Ritter Hall where, hidden by the enormous stove which looked like a mausoleum, guards had been waiting for him.

Here, thought George Lewis, if the stories he had heard were correct, his wife's lover had been stabbed to death and his body dragged outside the castle and buried in quicklime.

Ancient history! Konigsmarck was long since dead; only the captive of Ahlden lived on to repent her sins and doubtless to curse the man who had treated her with such ruthlessness.

He had no regrets. She had deceived him; she had bickered with him continually; she had shown her contempt; she had sneered at his mistresses; well now she could sneer to her heart's content within the walls of Ahlden. And he continued to enjoy those mistresses and all knew what happened to those who defied George Lewis, Elector of Hanover.

All the same, George Augustus must avoid such a disastrous marriage if possible and perhaps some immunity might be secured by letting him have a say in the choosing of his own wife.

George Lewis would call one or two of his trusted ministers together and they would discuss this matter and the best way of tackling it.

He first sent for Count von Platen, his Prime Minister. Platen was a good minister, docile, ready to obey without question. He had climbed to his present position, it was true, through his wife who had been the notorious mistress of George Lewis's father; but having attained his position he was able to maintain it.

"I've been thinking," said George Lewis, "that it's time the Prince was married. I want him to pay a visit to Ansbach to look at the Princess Caroline at present staying with her brother the Margrave. If he likes her, we can make an offer."

"Yes, Highness. Who shall travel with him?"

"He will go incognito. This is a matter of secrecy, Platen. If she refuses him I don't want any one to know it. The Archduke Charles has offered for her and she is considering. She's got an appreciation of her own value clearly. That might not be a bad thing. If the King of Prussia knows what we're after he'll thwart us because he wants her for Charles. Therefore no one must know of this but ourselves, the Prince, and who ever accompanies him."

"And the Electress Sophia?"

"Let's keep women out of this, Platen. I don't trust their tattling tongues. Even my mother. She can't resist writing to that niece of hers, the Duchess of Orleans ... She's the biggest scandalmonger in France and if she had an inkling of this it would soon reach the Prussian King's ears. So we'll have no women in this secret, Platen. Not even my mother."

"Very good, Your Highness."

"Who's the best man to accompany him?"

"I should say the Baron von Eltz. He was his governor and he's a good minister. He'd be discreet and see that the Prince was."

"Then that's settled. And one valet de chamhre, no more. He'll be a nobleman travelling for his amusement. We'd better send for him and tell him."

"Yes, Your Highness."

Father and son regard each other with mutual dislike.

If she won't take the Archduke she'll not fancy this prancing boy! thought George Lewis, scowling.

He's quite crude, thought George Augustus. Who would believe that he was the Elector! When I'm in his shoes I shall be different.

"It's time you were married," George Lewis said. "You might fancy the Princess of Ansbach. You can go to Ansbach and take a look at her. If you like what you see we'll offer for her."

As though, thought George Augustus, she were a horse they were going to buy. What did Platen think of this crude boor? What did the elegant Baron von Eltz?

But the prospect of going to Ansbach to see Caroline pleased him, particularly as he could decide whether or not he would have her. That appealed to his conceit which ever since he had realized what a little man he was had grown out of all proportion to his accomplishments.

"You'll pose as a nobleman travelling for pleasure," said George Lewis. "You'll call at the Ansbach Court with letters from Platen. See to that. Platen."

"Yes, Your Highness."

"You will take von Eltz with you. You will be his friend, von Eltz, calling yourself Steding. But on no account let it be known who you are. If you do, you can depend upon it the King of Prussia will hear, and he'll take the Princess back to Berlin and force her to marry the Archduke Charles. No one must know. Do you hear me? Particularly women. Now go and prepare. Leave tomorrow. If you decide you want to marry her, remember delay could lose her. So could gossip. Remember that."

He dismissed them and they went off to make ready for the journey.

George Augustus was excited but he was not even tempted to tell his sister where he was going.

Those months at Ansbach were the saddest Caroline had ever known. Each morning on waking her first thoughts were: She is dead. I shall never see her again.

She had wept until she was exhausted with weeping; she had shut herself into the bedroom which had been hers as a child and had seen no one for days. Then she had told herself that Sophia Charlotte would have chided her, would have reminded her that she must not give way to grief; that she must be brave as she had always been taught to be.

But there is no longer anything to live for, Caroline thought. How could I have believed for one moment that I could have left her and gone to Spain? This is a judgement on me because I was tempted by the glitter of a crown.

If she would only come back, I would tell her that I would never never leave her.

Her servants tried to rouse her from her melancholy. Would she not like to see the gown her seamstress was making for her? The woman wanted to know whether she would like embroidered panels or should they be of plain velvet. She had no interest in clothes. Would she care to do a little needlework? Embroidery was such a restful occupation. She had never cared for needlework. Sometimes they told her amusing stories about people of her brother's court—and of other courts, but scandal did not interest her.

She and Sophia Charlotte had talked of religion, philosophy, history, art, literature. With whom could she talk of such things now?

There is nothing ... nothing left to me, she thought.

Her brother was unusually understanding. She was grateful to him; it was fortunate that having now become Margrave he could offer her this refuge of her old home. He would talk to her of the days of their childhood before she had known Sophia Charlotte, and somehow this was soothing. Certainly here in the old Palace of the Margraves, so ornate and flamboyant as she now knew, having been educated in good taste by Sophia Charlotte, she could be less miserable than anywhere else. She liked to walk round the gallery and look sadly at the portraits of the Hohenzollerns, her ancestors, and wonder about their lives. Had they ever known grief like hers? How could any have felt such a loss? There could only have been one in the world like Sophia Charlotte.

William Frederick, her brother, seeking to bring her out of her melancholy told her that she must make a definite decision about her marriage. He was sure that once she had settled that matter she would begin to build a new life.

"I shall not marry the Archduke," she said. "I do not believe she wished it."

Frederick William, being piqued because he had not been consulted in the matter—after all he was the head of the family, even though younger than Caroline—was secretly pleased. The Austrians should have consulted him. He was young and had not long before succeeded to the title; he had been made to feel, for so many years, that he was of little importance, so now he felt he must continually remind people how his position had changed.

"I think it is the right decision," he said.

"You seem very certain."

"I am sure you would never have been a Catholic."

"No. I never should. I could never be so definite in my beliefs. She was not. She always said on religious matters we must always have an open mind."

"Then you would have been unhappy in Spain."

"I will write at once to Leibniz. He will tell me how to handle this matter. He will draft the letter I must write. I know he too will be with me in this."

She went at once to her apartment. Her brother was right. Now that she had made her decision her spirits had lifted a little.

Leibniz was at Hanover in attendance on the Electress Sophia.

He read to her Caroline's letter asking him to draft the refusal.

The Electress was delighted. If only, she thought that stubborn fool of an Elector would listen to me. If only he would ask for Caroline for George Augustus. Sometimes I think he refuses to do what I ask simply because I ask it!

And what could an old woman do? It had been the same in the old days with Ernest Augustus. He had allowed Clara von Platen to influence him, but not his wife. She remembered how her husband and his mistress had decided to marry George Lewis to Sophia Dorothea and had not told her anything about the plan until they needed her help to put it into action.

And she, the granddaughter of a King, and King of England at that, had allowed this to be. Well, at least she had kept her place in the Electorate; she was honoured; and although Ernest Augustus would not be influenced by her, he allowed her supremacy in her own little Court. She had remained to bear his children—not like poor Sophia Dorothea, languishing in prison now. Had she protested as that foolish woman had, would her fate have been similar? These Germans had no idea how to treat women. How different her cousin Charles of England had been. How different was Louis XIV, the Sun King, the most admired monarch in Europe. These men were gentlemen and that fact helped them to be great rulers.

As for her son George Lewis, he was the crudest of them all. And foolish too. He was going to lose the opportunity of bringing the most accomplished of Princesses to Hanover.

Leibniz read Caroline's letter aloud.

"Heaven, jealous of our happiness, has taken away from us our adored and adorable Queen. The calamity has overwhelmed me with grief and sickness, and it is only the hope that I may soon follow her that consoles me. I pity you from the bottom of my heart for her loss to you is irreparable. I pray the good God to add to the Electress Sophia's life the years that the Queen might hav« lived and I beseech you to add my devotion to her."

Sophia wept quietly as she listened.

She and I alone could console each other, she thought.

Yet it was no use talking to George Lewis. What did he know of grief? What did he know of love?

The clocks were striking midnight when George Augustus with the Baron von Eltz and one valet rode through the narrow streets of Hanover, past the gabled houses with their sloping roofs, past the Markt Kirche, the Rathhaus, out of the town and away towards Ansbach.

This was the most exciting adventure he had ever undertaken; the miracle was that it should be happening at his father's suggestion.

Caroline! He was half-way to falling in love with her already. He hoped she was not too clever. He didn't like clever women. He had never enjoyed studying and had avoided it when possible; a wife who knew more than he did would be intolerable. But they said she was beautiful; and if she should choose him after refusing the Archduke Charles he would be delighted with her.

The Baron was giving him some uneasy glances. He was afraid he would give himself away, afraid he would show that arrogance which was always ready to appear at an imagined slight. If he betrayed the fact that Monsieur de Busch, the name under which it had been decided he should travel, was in fact George Augustus, Electoral Prince of Hanover, the news that he was wooing Caroline of Ansbach would be all over Europe in a very short time.

"You needn't look at me like that, von Eltz," said George Augustus. "I'll play my part."

The days were long. Caroline could settle to nothing. She could not go on in this way. She had no desire to return to Lutzenburg which the King of Prussia had now renamed Charlottenburg after his wife. She had never had any love for the King of Prussia. She would stay here with her brother until her grief grew less acute—if it ever did.

She spent long hours in the Hofgarten remembering the past because the future was too painful to contemplate.

Sometimes she rode through the streets of the town, through the narrow streets, past the little houses from the windows of which people leaned out to see her go by. They called affectionate greetings. They loved her the more because she had refused marriage with the Archduke Charles. She had given up a possible empire and a crown for the sake of her faith. That was how they saw it and it seemed an admirable thing to have done.

"Long live our Princess," they called. "Good fortune to Your Serene Highness."

She smiled her sad smile and they understood her sadness and loved her for that too.

William Frederick said to her one day: "You'll be ill if you go on grieving in this way. I suggest we leave this place and take a short holiday at Triesdorf. It will be beautiful there at this time of year."

Listlessly Caroline agreed to accompany him to their summer home and they had been there only a few weeks when the Margrave came to his sister's room to tell her about the new arrivals.

"Two gentlemen have come from Hanover. They bring letters from the Count von Platen, the Hanoverian Prime Minister, asking us to be kind to these two travellers."

Caroline said, "Must I see them?"

"It would seem discourteous not to as there are these letters from Platen."

"That's true, and I might hear news of the Electress. I wonder she did not give them a message to bring to me."

"Perhaps she did not know they were coming. She wouldn't since they are merely noblemen travelling for their own pleasure."

"I will come down this evening," said Caroline.

So she met George Augustus, not knowing that he was other than Monsieur de Busch.

He bowed, and murmured that he was overwhelmed by the honour and that it was a great moment for them.

She replied that he was welcome. She was delighted to see anyone from Hanover and she hoped he might give her news of the Electress Sophia.

He believed he could do that.

The travellers were entertained in a homely and intimate manner for the Margrave did not live in the same state in his summer residence as he did at the Palace of Ansbach.

Young Monsieur de Busch talked animatedly of Hanover; his friend, the more sober Monsieur Steding devoted himself to the Margrave leaving his young friend to talk to Caroline.

Since she was forced to pay attention to him Caroline looked more like he»- old self than she had since Sophia Charlotte's death. Her brother noticed this and thought: We must entertain more. She must not be allowed to shut herself away.

Meanwhile Monsieur de Busch was growing very excited, although he hid this. She was charming, this young woman. She was the type that most appealed to him. Masses of fair hair, blue eyes, a little quiet, always giving him the opportunity of speaking. She seemed modest and a little sad; but he knew why that was. She was a beauty; and she would be amenable; and she had refused the Archduke Charles. He had made up his mind in the first half hour.

Caroline saw an animated young man—short but good-looking, with a lively expression and neat features. He was about her own age, she judged, and there was an unusual dignity about him. She liked him.

After the meal the Margrave suggested a game of cards. Monsieur de Busch asked if he might have the honour of sitting next to the Princess and this was granted.

So they played cards in a desultory manner for that was how the visitors wished it.

Caroline asked how the Electress Sophia was progressing after her illness.

"I hear she is recovering slowly," she was told. "She is a wonderful lady."

Monsieur de Busch agreed that this was so. "Your Serene Highness should visit her. I believe nothing could speed her recovery more than that."

"I should have to wait for an invitation from the Elector. I might not be very welcome.'*

"I cannot imagine Your Serene Highness being unwelcome anywhere."

"You are very kind."

His almond-shaped eyes were warm—perhaps a little too warm, but strangely enough she did not mind that. By forcing her to entertain him he was making her feel more alive than she had since the tragedy.

"It would be my greatest pleasure, if it were possible for me to show you kindness."

Hardly the manner in which a casual visitor should talk to a Princess. But he was young and she liked him for he had made her feel so much better.

"It is your turn to play. Monsieur de Busch," she said. He watched her beautiful slender fingers with the cards. She was enchanting.

I'm in love, he told himself. Caroline shall be my wife. My father will be pleased and the King of Prussia will be furious. And what will the King of Spain think when she has accepted me after refusing him!

He was in high spirits; and he was his most attractive when he was happy. His smile was sweet and he became very gay. Perhaps he was a little bold; perhaps he showed too clearly his admiration.

But Caroline even laughed now and then which made her brother look up sharply.

He was glad the travellers from Hanover had come to Triesdorf.

George Augustus came unannounced to the Baron's bedchamber.

"We must leave at once for Hanover," he declared. "We must tell my father that the mission is a success. I don't propose to wait another day. I have decided."

"Your Highness has come to a very quick decision."

George Augustus threw up his hands in the gesture his father so disliked. "But I am in love with her. She is beyond my expectations. Surely you can see for yourself."

"The Princess is charming, but..."

"I have decided."

"Then in that case, in the morning I will tell the Margrave that we have been called back to Hanover on urgent business."

"Do that. I shall not have a moment's peace until she is in Hanover."

"If Your Highness is assured that you are not being too hasty..."

"I always make up my mind quickly."

The Baron forbore to mention that this was not always with the happiest results. George Augustus would not listen. He was in love.

Would he have been quite so infatuated with the Princess of Ansbach if the Archduke Charles had not sought her hand? wondered the Baron. He knew his Prince.

The Princess was a charming creature, capable of affection, as her sadness at the death of the Queen of Prussia showed. The Baron hoped she would not expect too much from his mercurial little Prince—if she decided to accept him.

In the morning he told the Margrave that they were called back. They took outwardly regretful leave, although George Augustus could not completely hide the fact that he was bubbling over with excitement.

They returned to Hanover after a very brief absence; but the Elector was as near pleased as the Baron had ever seen him at the result of his strategy.

After the visitors from Hanover had left Triesdorf Caroline felt melancholy. They had certainly relieved the tedium and it had been pleasant to be so obviously admired by the young Monsieur de Busch.

Her favourite attendant Fraulein von Genninggen mentioned that his visit had been very agreeable. "I think it did your Highness good," she added. "I am sorry he and his friend left so soon."

"He was perhaps a little too bold," answered Caroline.

"I daresay that is the way at Hanover. But I certainly wish they had not hurried away so quickly."

It was true, thought Caroline. Monsieur de Busch had made her feel alive again and ... young. She was in agreement with Fraulein von Genninggen and also regretted their departure.

But a few weeks later when Monsieur Steding returned to Triesdorf, Caroline was disappointed that he was alone. He told the Margrave that Monsieur de Busch had returned to Hanover but he himself had gone to Nuremburg to meet some friends whose arrival there had been delayed and since the Margrave and Her Serene Highness, his sister, had been so kind recently and had said they regretted that their stay should not have been longer, he had taken the opportunity to throw himself on their hospitality for a few more days.

Monsieur Steding was very welcome, but both the Margrave and Caroline were sorry that she was not accompanied by the charming young Monsieur de Busch.

Baron von Eltz took an early opportunity of being alone with the Princess. He whispered to her during a card game that he must speak to her alone so would she grant him an interview. She agreed to this but when he reached her apartment he found Fraulein von Genninggen in attendance. He indicated that he must be entirely alone with the Princess so she told the Fraulein to go into the ante-room and wait there until summoned.

As soon as they were alone the Baron told her that he came on a mission from Hanover, and that his name was not Steding but the Baron von Eltz.

The Princess looked startled and von Eltz hurried on: "Before I put this proposition to you, I must have Your Highness's promise that if you decide not to accept it you will say nothing to anyone."

"I promise," said Caroline.

"Monsieur de Busch was an assumed name. My companion was George Augustus, Electoral Prince of Hanover."

"Oh!" said Caroline faintly.

"First I must ask you whether you are free of all matrimonial engagements and are not involved in any way with the King of Spain."

"I am free."

"The Electoral Prince had heard such accounts of your beauty, your charm and wisdom that he was determined to see for himself whether rumour was true. His visit here convinced him that what he had heard was not warm enough in its praise and having seen you he has told his father that he wishes to marry you."

Caroline was too agitated to collect her thoughts. She had thought he might have had a message from the Electress Sophia, not such a proposal as this.

"I had not expected..." she began.

"Your Serene Highness, a young man in love is impatient ... and His Highness, the Electoral Prince, is both."

Sophia Charlotte's nephew! If she married him she would live under the same roof as the Electress Sophia. Surely that was getting as near to Sophia Charlotte as was possible.

"I should have to speak to my brother," she said.

"Naturally. But I pray you do not delay. And there is one other matter. If you decide that this proposition is distasteful to you, it must be entirely secret. None but yourself and your brother must know of this. The Elector would be most displeased if it were bruited abroad. There is one in particular ho must be kept ignorant—that is the King of Prussia, for as your guardian he might take steps to stop your marriage. Not until the documents are signed should he be informed. Will you respect the Elector's wishes?"

"Yes, I will."

"And you will give your answer soon?"

"I must speak to my brother. There is no other House of which I would rather be a member than that of Hanover but ... I must have time to think "

The Baron bowed and left her.

Caroline walked up and down her apartment. She was thinking of the little man who had smiled at her so warmly, who had shown so clearly how he admired her.

She liked him ... as well as one could like anyone on such a short acquaintance. But she had liked Archduke Charles. If it had not been a matter of leaving Sophia Charlotte ... if it had not been necessary to become a Catholic ... Well, then she might by now be married to him.

But here was George Augustus—more ardent than Charles because he was less polished perhaps. About Charles's gallantry there had been a suavity which George Augustus lacked. Yet George Augustus was a pleasant young man; he admired her; he had helped her take one step out of the despondent morass into which the death of Sophia Charlotte had plunged her and she had regretted his departure.

She went to the window and looked out across the gardens now beautiful with summer roses. She could go to Sophia Charlotte's home, the Leine Schloss, Herrenhausen, the Alte Palais —of which she had talked so much that Caroline felt she knew them already. Between herself and the Electress Sophia there was already a bond—their love of Sophia Charlotte. Not only that, but they were of a kind. They were interested in discussion and ideas; and it was rare to find a companion who cared for anything but gossip, clothes and court scandal.

It was almost as though Sophia Charlotte's voice was coming to her over the immense distance which separated the dead from the living.

"I cannot be with you, my darling, but this will help you. Go to my mother; she will love you and you will love her. You have to marry sometime. It is the best way of life. You will agree when you have children. You will be there in my old home. My dearest child, it is the best thing left to you."

The best thing left! They were right when they said she could not go on mourning for ever, for one could not live with the dead.

Her brother came into her apartment. It was easy to see how delighted he was.

"Baron von Eltz has spoken to me. Why, Caroline, this is an excellent proposal. He wants your acceptance quickly. I hope you will give it. It is the best thing that could happen to you. You will accept this proposal?"

She hesitated only for a second.

"Yes, I accept."

Baron von Eltz rode with all speed to Hanover and in a few days he was riding back to Ansbach with instructions from the Elector to arrange the marriage of his son with Princess Caroline.

Not until George Lewis had the documents back in his hand would he break the secrecy and it was characteristic of him that he should send Count von Platen to tell his mother what had taken place.

Sophia had risen from her bed for she was beginning to recover and when she received Platen in her audience chamber, he was smiling a little secretively as he bowed.

"Good news, Your Highness! The Electoral Prince is soon to be married."

Sophia stared at him in astonishment; anger threatened to betray itself, but long practice had disciplined her to keep it in check.

"Yes, Your Highness, your son thought it was high time, and he is sure you will agree with him. So a marriage has been arranged and we hope that it will take place very shortly as neither the Elector nor the Electoral Prince see any reason for delay."

A marriage! thought Sophia furiously. But I wanted Caroline for him. Why will George Lewis never listen to me!

"The matter has been arranged in some secrecy. The Prince rode to Ansbach with von Eltz ... two gentlemen calling themselves Busch and Steding ... travelling for pleasure."

"To Ansbach! " cried Sophia. "Then..."

"The Princess Caroline of Ansbach is to marry the Prince, Your Highness. She has accepted him and the negotiations have now been completed."

The Electress did not know which was the greater—fury at being kept out of a plan which she herself had suggested, or joy that what she so desired had come about. Being the sensible woman she was she quickly suppressed the former and indulged in the latter.

She composed her features.

"I am delighted," she said. "Pray tell my son that if I had been consulted I should have suggested that the best possible bride for my grandson would be the Princess Caroline of Ansbach."

Hanover was in a state of excitement preparing for the wedding. It was no longer a secret. In his apartments the bridegroom was strutting before his mirror, commanding his servants to help him dress in the clothes which were being made for his wedding. He tried on his wigs and wanted them built up in the front to give him height. For the first time he was the most important person in the Court, the focus of all attention; and he was delighted with himself. Even his father treated him with a new respect. George Augustus was a happy bridegroom.

In the kitchens there was great activity; banquets to surpass all banquets must be prepared to celebrate the wedding; comedians and actors were commanded to concoct plays and entertainments to enliven the celebrations. Even the Elector, usually inclined to be parsimonious, had implied that a little extravagance was warranted on such a happy occasion. It was a unique occasion. For the first time most people remembered the Elector was pleased with his son.

Sophia Dorothea was as excited as her brother.

"Marriage is in the air," she declared. "I shall be next. And I'll tell you something, George Augustus, the Crown Prince of Prussia is asking for me."

"You think his father will allow that. He's furious about my marriage. He wanted Caroline for himself, some say." George Augustus stood on tiptoe and studied himself in the mirror. "The King of Spain wanted her; the King of Prussia wanted her; but she wanted me."

"Well, you're the last one to be surprised at that! " retorted Sophia Dorothea. "And it's no use anyone's saying I'm not to have Frederick William because I've decided that I am ... and so has he."

"He told you this?"

"He said he would make life unbearable for everyone until consent was given to our marriage."

"There's a bold lover for you! "

"The only sort of lover I would have." Sophia Dorothea was serious suddenly. "George Augustus, I wonder what our mother feels about this."

"Feels? What should she feel?"

"Can't you put yourself in her place. Her son, her first born, is about to be married and she is shut away and not allowed to join in and be happy with the rest of us."

George Augustus was silent; his mouth turned down angrily. "I hate our father for what he did to our mother."

"You hate him for a lot of other things besides," Sophia Dorothea reminded him. "Grandfather Celle is on his way, did you know? He is coming to congratulate you and say how happy he is. But I don't think he's very happy. I don't think he was happy from the day he allowed our father to marry our mother. We're lucky to choose our partners ... or more or less choose them. Fancy being presented with our father and told you had to marry him! No wonder our mother was unhappy; no wonder it made Grandmother Celle turn away from Grandfather Celle and never love him again in quite the same way."

George Augustus was thinking of his childhood. He remembered his mother more clearly than Sophia Dorothea. He could still recall the fear when she had disappeared; and how he had once tried to rescue her.

"I shall always hate our father" he said. "Even though he didn't try to force me into marriage I'll always hate him."

Sophia Dorothea nodded. "Marriage!" she said. "They all dance and make merry and congratulate. But is it a matter of congratulation?"

"Mine will be."

"Of course. George Augustus and Caroline are going to live in harmony for ever after."

"Why shouldn't they?"

"Because no one ever does. All you can hope for is a compromise like Grandmother Hanover had. She was Queen of the household because she never interfered with Grandfather Hanover's mistresses."

"Caroline will never interfere with mine."

"Oh, won't she? I shall not allow my husband to have any."

"You think any husband would allow that?"

"Mine will."

"You have strange ideas of marriage."

"Perhaps Caroline shares them."

"Caroline!" George Augustus smiled dreamily into the future. "She is very beautiful, sister. And she is docile. She is quiet when I wish to speak; she is a little sad; and she will be grateful to me for ever because I married her."

"Yours is certain to be a happy marriage," said Sophia Dorothea scornfully. "Grandmother Celle has gone to Ahlden. She will not come here because she hates our Father. She has never forgiven him for what he did to our mother. I saw Fraulein von Knesebeck once. She loved our mother and suffered with her and she told me. She said that she never saw a pair of lovers like Grandmother Celle and Grandfather Celle. He lived for her until our mother married our father and then they quarrelled, because Grandmother was against the match and he for it, and when the tragedy happened she blamed him and never loved him again. All her love was for our mother. Isn't that sad, George Augustus? Doesn't it make you hesitate when you think about marriage?"

"My marriage will be different. We shall not quarrel. Caroline will understand me,"

"Frederick William does not understand me ... but it will be fun learning about him ... and for him to learn about me. I don't think I ask as much from marriage as you do. You want a wife who is a sort of exalted slave, to give way to all your whims, to look up to you as a god. Oh, George Augustus, you have to grow up."

"Listen to who's talking! I believe you're comparing me with our father."

"I wouldn't compare anyone with him. Do you know our mother wanted to write to you. She wanted to say how happy she is that you are going to be married and she wanted to wish you joy. But Father wouldn't let her."

"He is a monster. I shall always hate him. I shall always be kind to Caroline."

"So good of you." Sophia Dorothea laughed lightly. "Let us hope that she will be as good to you as you are to her."

George Augustus narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Wait and see. Wait till five years ... ten years Just wait and see."

With that she decided she had had enough talk of marriage. She was tired of looking at George Augustus strutting in his new clothes. She would go and see about lier own.

About eight weeks after Baron von Eltz had made the Electoral Prince's proposal, Caroline, with her brother, set out for Hanover.

Caroline was a little nervous. She had made a complete break with the old life and was now ready for the new. She had determined that her marriage would be a success and that she would fmd a tolerable life at Hanover—though not to be compared with that which she had known at Lutzenburg, for what could compare with the companionship of Sophia Charlotte?

As they left the hills of Ansbach behind them and their coach carried them towards the northern plains Caroline was thinking of the letters George Augustus had written her when he knew that she had consented to become his wife.

"I owe you every imaginable obligation for permitting me the greatest happiness that I desire in my life ... I hope to show you my inviolable respect and eternal affection "

"The time of your departure seems infinitely distant and I count every day and hour until its arrival..."

"I desire nothing so much as to throw myself at my Princess's feet and promise her eternal devotion. You alone can make me happy. But I shall not be entirely convinced of my happiness until I have the satisfaction of testifying to the excess of my fondness and love for you."

The words of a lover, but a man whom she had seen only during one short visit. Still, happiness ... or at least satisfaction ... was apparent in everything he wrote to her. She was not a romantic girl. Life with Sophia Charlotte and her own mother's tragic story had taught her realism. Marriage with this ardent dapper little man would no doubt be a compromise and she was ready for it.

As she listened to the sound of the coach on the road she believed she had been wise to come.

She needed a new life.

Now she was on the threshold of it.

At a village outside Hanover Caroline made the acquaintance of her father-in-law.

It was not a very reassuring encounter and had she not been warned of the man she must expect she would have been depressed. Certainly she would have been surprised had she known that George Lewis was being unusually gracious.

He actually muttered that he was pleased to see her and was glad she was marrying his son.

Dour, having no love for ceremonies, he cut short the interview as quickly as possible, but left her with the impression that he was looking her over to assess what sort of a breeder she would be. She then began to have qualms as to the difficulties of settling into a household of which this man was the head.

Her brother consoled her. George Lewis was a just man; he ruled Hanover well; and it was clear that in spite of his curt manners he was delighted with the match.

Caroline was glad when he returned to Hanover and left her for the last evening alone with her brother.

Just before Caroline made her entry into Hanover the Duke of Celle caught a chill when hunting and died. This cast a gloom over everything—not so much because a member of the family had died, but because it brought an inevitable reminder of the Elector's wife. It was scarcely a pretty rumour to be in circulation at the time of a wedding.

However George Lewis decreed that the period of mourning should be very short in the circumstances.

The coach containing Caroline and her brother entered the main courtyard of the Leine Schloss. The trumpets immediately sounded their welcome and the soldiers formed to make a guard of honour. Standing waiting to receive the bride, was the entire Electoral family headed by the Elector and on one side of him his son and on the other his mother.

George Augustus's eyes were shining with pleasure and happiness; George Lewis's were grimly content. And the Electress Sophia was saying to herself: This is the happiest moment since my dearest daughter died.

"Welcome ... welcome to Hanover." That was the theme of the day.

But it was the Electress Sophia who, with an unusual show of emotion, embraced Caroline and held her in her arms, and whispered: "Welcome home, my dear."

That evening a large company assembled in the palace church to celebrate the marriage of George Augustus, Electoral Prince of Hanover and Caroline, Princess of Ansbach.