CAROLINE THE ILLUSTRIOUS
[Illustration: _Caroline, Princess of Wales._
_Walter L. Colls, Ph. Sc._]
Caroline the Illustrious
Queen-Consort of George II. and
sometime Queen-Regent
_A Study of her Life and Time_
BY
W. H. WILKINS, M.A., F.S.A.
AUTHOR OF “THE LOVE OF AN UNCROWNED QUEEN”
_WITH ILLUSTRATIONS_
IN TWO VOLUMES
VOL. I.
LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON
NEW YORK AND BOMBAY
1901
_TO_
_THE COUNTESS OF WARWICK_
_La beauté est le partage des uns, l’intelligence celui des autres;
la réunion de ces dons ne se rencontre que chez certains mortels
favorisés des dieux._
LEIBNIZ TO QUEEN CAROLINE.
PREFACE.
It is characteristic of the way in which historians have neglected
the House of Hanover that no life with any claim to completeness has
yet been written of Caroline of Ansbach, Queen-Consort of George the
Second, and four times Queen-Regent. Yet she was by far the greatest of
our Queens-Consort, and wielded more authority over political affairs
than any of our Queens-Regnant with the exception of Elizabeth, and,
in quite another sense, Victoria. The ten years of George the Second’s
reign until her death would be more properly called “The Reign of
Queen Caroline,” since for that period Caroline governed England with
Walpole. And during those years the great principles of civil and
religious liberty, which were then bound up with the maintenance of the
Hanoverian dynasty, were firmly established in England.
Therefore no apology is needed for attempting to portray the life of
this remarkable princess, and endeavouring to give some idea of the
influence which she exercised in her day and upon her generation.
The latter part of Caroline’s life is covered to some extent by Lord
Hervey’s Memoirs, and we get glimpses of her also in Horace Walpole’s
works and in contemporary letters. But Lord Hervey’s Memoirs do not
begin until Caroline became Queen, and though he enjoyed exceptional
facilities of observation, he wrote with an obvious bias, and often
imputed to the Queen motives and sentiments which were his rather than
hers, and used her as the mouthpiece of his own prejudices and personal
animosities.
Of Queen Caroline’s life before she came to England nothing, or
comparatively nothing, has hitherto been known,[1] and very little has
been written of the difficult part which she played as Princess of
Wales throughout the reign of George the First. On Caroline’s early
years this book may claim to throw fresh light. By kind permission of
the Prussian authorities I am able to publish sundry documents from the
Hanoverian Archives which have never before been given to the world,
more especially those which pertain to the betrothal and marriage of
the princess. The hitherto unpublished despatches of Poley, Howe and
D’Alais, English envoys at Hanover, 1705–14, give fresh information
concerning the Hanoverian Court at that period, and the despatches of
Bromley, Harley and Clarendon, written during the eventful year 1714,
show the strained relations which existed between Queen Anne and her
Hanoverian cousins on the eve of the Elector of Hanover’s accession to
the English throne.
In order to make this book as complete as possible I have visited
Ansbach, where Caroline was born, Berlin, the scene of her girlhood,
and Hanover, where she spent her early married years. I have searched
the Archives in all these places, and have further examined the records
in the State Paper Office, London, and the Manuscript Department of
the British Museum. A list of these, and of other authorities quoted
herein, published and unpublished, will be found at the end of this
book.
In _The Love of an Uncrowned Queen_ (Sophie Dorothea of Celle, Consort
of George the First) I gave a description of the Courts of Hanover and
Celle until the death of the first Elector of Hanover, Ernest Augustus.
This book continues those studies of the Court of Hanover at a later
period. It brings the Electoral family over to England and sketches the
Courts of George the First and George the Second until the death of
Queen Caroline. The influence which Caroline wielded throughout that
troublous time, and the part she played in maintaining the Hanoverian
dynasty upon the throne of England, have never been fully recognised.
George the First and George the Second were not popular princes; it
would be idle to pretend that they were. But Caroline’s gracious and
dignified personality, her lofty ideals and pure life did much to
counteract the unpopularity of her husband and father-in-law, and
redeem the early Georgian era from utter grossness. She was rightly
called by her contemporaries “The Illustrious”. If this book helps to
do tardy justice to the memory of a great Queen and good woman it will
not have been written in vain.
W. H. WILKINS.
FOOTNOTE TO PREFACE:
[1] Dr. A. W. Ward’s sketch of Caroline of Ansbach in the _Dictionary
of National Biography_ contains some facts concerning this period of
her life, but they are necessarily brief.
CONTENTS.
BOOK I. ELECTORAL PRINCESS OF HANOVER.
CHAPTER I.
PAGE
ANSBACH AND ITS MARGRAVES 3
CHAPTER II.
THE COURT OF BERLIN 14
CHAPTER III.
THE WOOING OF THE PRINCESS 36
CHAPTER IV.
THE COURT OF HANOVER 59
CHAPTER V.
THE HEIRESS OF GREAT BRITAIN 88
CHAPTER VI.
THE LAST YEAR AT HANOVER 105
BOOK II. PRINCESS OF WALES.
CHAPTER I.
THE COMING OF THE KING 137
CHAPTER II.
THE COURT OF THE FIRST GEORGE 159
CHAPTER III.
THE REACTION 186
CHAPTER IV.
THE WHITE ROSE 210
CHAPTER V.
AFTER THE RISING 234
CHAPTER VI.
THE GUARDIAN OF THE REALM 255
CHAPTER VII.
THE ROYAL QUARREL 271
CHAPTER VIII.
LEICESTER HOUSE AND RICHMOND LODGE 287
CHAPTER IX.
THE RECONCILIATION 316
CHAPTER X.
THE SOUTH SEA BUBBLE 341
CHAPTER XI.
TO OSNABRÜCK! 364
INDEX 385
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
CAROLINE, PRINCESS OF WALES. From the painting by Sir Godfrey
Kneller _Frontispiece_
_to face page_
THE CASTLE OF ANSBACH 8
LÜTZENBURG (CHARLOTTENBURG) 20
SOPHIA CHARLOTTE, QUEEN OF PRUSSIA. From the original portrait
by Wiedman 34
QUEEN CAROLINE’S ROOM IN THE CASTLE OF ANSBACH 54
GEORGE II. AND QUEEN CAROLINE AT THE TIME OF THEIR MARRIAGE 70
THE ELECTRESS SOPHIA OF HANOVER 88
LEIBNIZ 102
HERRENHAUSEN 124
THE CEREMONY OF THE CHAMPION OF ENGLAND GIVING THE CHALLENGE
AT THE CORONATION 152
KING GEORGE I. From the painting by Sir Godfrey Kneller in
the National Portrait Gallery 174
LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU (in Eastern dress) 200
PRINCE JAMES FRANCIS EDWARD STUART (THE CHEVALIER DE
ST. GEORGE). From the picture in the National Portrait
Gallery 218
LORD NITHISDALE’S ESCAPE FROM THE TOWER. From an old print 242
PAVILIONS BELONGING TO THE BOWLING GREEN, HAMPTON COURT,
TEMP. GEORGE I. 258
LEIBNIZHAUS, HANOVER (where Leibniz died) 270
CAROLINE, PRINCESS OF WALES, AND HER INFANT SON, PRINCE
GEORGE WILLIAM. From an old print 284
LEICESTER HOUSE, LEICESTER SQUARE, TEMP. GEORGE I. 302
MARY, COUNTESS COWPER. From the original portrait by Sir
Godfrey Kneller 324
THE SOUTH SEA BUBBLE. From an old cartoon 346
HENRY ST. JOHN, VISCOUNT BOLINGBROKE 358
BOOK I.
ELECTORAL PRINCESS OF HANOVER.
CHAPTER I.
ANSBACH AND ITS MARGRAVES.
1683–1696.
Wilhelmina Caroline, Princess of Brandenburg-Ansbach, known to history
as “Caroline of Ansbach,” Queen-Consort of King George the Second of
Great Britain and Ireland, and sometime Queen-Regent, was born in
the palace of Ansbach, a little town in South Germany, on March 1st,
1683. It was a year memorable in the annals of English history as the
one in which Lord Russell and Algernon Sidney were brought to the
block, who by their blood strengthened the long struggle against the
Stuarts which culminated in the accession of the House of Hanover. The
same year, seven months later, on October 30th, the ill-fated Sophie
Dorothea of Celle, consort of George the First, gave birth to a son at
Hanover, George Augustus, who twenty-two years later was destined to
take Caroline of Ansbach to wife, and in fulness of time to ascend the
throne of England.
The Margraves of Brandenburg-Ansbach were far from wealthy, but the
palace wherein the little princess first opened her eyes to the
light was one of the finest in Germany, quite out of proportion
to the fortunes of the petty principality. It was a vast building,
four storeys high, built in the form of a square, with a cloistered
court-yard, and an ornate façade to the west. Yet large as it was, it
did not suit the splendour-loving Margraves of later generations, and
the palace as it stands to-day, with its twenty-two state apartments,
each more magnificent than the other, is a veritable treasure-house of
baroque and rococo art. Some of the interior decoration is very florid
and in doubtful taste; the ceiling of the great hall, for instance,
depicts the apotheosis of the Margrave Karl the Wild; the four corners
respectively represent the feast of the Bacchante, music, painting and
architecture, and in the centre is a colossal figure of the Margrave,
in classical attire, clasping Venus in his arms. The dining-hall is
also gorgeous, with imitation marbles, crystal chandeliers, and a
gilded gallery, wherefrom the minstrels were wont to discourse sweet
music to the diners. The porcelain saloon, the walls lined with
exquisite porcelain, is a gem of its kind, and the picture gallery
contains many portraits of the Hohenzollerns. But the most interesting
room is that known as “Queen Caroline’s apartment,” in which the future
Queen of England was born; it was occupied by her during her visits
to Ansbach until her marriage. This room is left much as it was in
Caroline’s day, and a canopy of faded green silk still marks the place
where the bed stood in which she was born.
The town of Ansbach has changed but little since the seventeenth
century, far less than the palace, which successive Margraves have
improved almost out of recognition. Unlike Würzburg and Nuremberg,
cities comparatively near, Ansbach has not progressed; it has rather
gone backward, for since the last Margrave, Alexander, sold his
heritage in 1791, there has not been a court at Ansbach.[2] A sign of
its vanished glories may be seen in the principal hotel of the place,
formerly the residence of the Court Chamberlain, a fine house with
frescoed ceilings, wide oak staircase, and spacious court-yard. The
Hofgarten remains the same, a large park, with a double avenue of limes
and oaks, beneath which Caroline must often have played when a girl.
The high-pitched roofs and narrow irregular streets of the town still
breathe the spirit of mediævalism, but the old-time glory has departed
from Ansbach, and the wave of modern progress has scarcely touched it.
The little town, surrounded with low-lying meadows, wears an aspect
inexpressibly dreary and forsaken.
The honest burghers of Ansbach, who took a personal interest in the
domestic affairs of their Margraves, feeling that as they prospered
they would prosper with them, could not, in their most ambitious
moments, have imagined the exalted destiny which awaited the little
princess who was born in the palace on that March morning. The
princesses of Ansbach had not in the past made brilliant alliances,
and there is no record of any one of them having married into a royal
house. They were content to wed the margraves, the burgraves, the
landgraves, and the princelets who offered themselves, to bear them
children, and to die, without contributing any particular brilliancy to
the history of their house.
The margravate of Ansbach was one of the petty German princedoms
which had succeeded in weathering the storm and stress of the Middle
Ages. At the time of Caroline’s birth, any importance Ansbach might
have possessed to the outer world arose from its connection with
the Brandenburgs and Hohenzollerns, of which connection the later
Margraves of Ansbach were alternately proud and jealous. Ansbach can,
with reason, claim to be the cradle of the Hohenzollern kingdom. For
nearly five hundred years (from 1331 to 1806) the princedom of Ansbach
belonged to the Hohenzollerns, and a succession of the greatest events
of Prussian history arose from the union of Prussia and Brandenburg
and the margravate of Ansbach. It is not certain how, or when, the
link began. But out of the mist of ages emerges the fact, that when
the Burgrave Frederick V. divided his possessions into the Oberland
and Unterland, or Highlands and Lowlands, Ansbach was raised to the
dignity of capital of the Lowland princedom, and a castle was built.
The Margrave Albert the Great, a son of the Elector Frederick the
First of Brandenburg, set up his court at Ansbach, decreeing that it
should remain the seat of government for all time. Albert the Great’s
court was more splendid and princely than any in Germany; he enlarged
the already beautiful castle, he kept much company and held brilliant
tournaments, and he founded the famous order of the Knights of the
Swan. The high altar, elaborately carved and painted, of the old Gothic
church of St. Gumbertus in Ansbach remains to this day a monument of
his munificence, and on the walls of the chancel are the escutcheons
of the Knights of the Swan, and from the roof hang down the tattered
banners of the Margraves.
The succeeding Margraves do not call for any special notice; after the
fashion of German princes of that time, they spent most of their days
in hunting, and their nights in carousing. They were distinguished
from their neighbours only by their more peaceful proclivities. Two
names come to us out of oblivion, George the Pious, who introduced the
Reformation into Franconia, and George Frederick, who was guardian to
the mad Duke Albert Frederick of Prussia, and who consequently managed
Prussian affairs from Ansbach. With his death in 1602 the elder branch
of the Margraves expired.
Caroline’s father, the Margrave John Frederick, was of the younger
branch, and succeeded to the margravate in 1667. John Frederick was
a worthy man, who confined his ambitions solely to promoting the
prosperity of his princedom, and concerned himself with little outside
it. When his first wife died, he married secondly, and rather late in
life, Eleanor Erdmuthe Louisa, daughter of the Duke of Saxe-Eisenach,
a princess many years his junior, by whom he had two children, a son,
William Frederick, and a daughter, Caroline, the subject of this book.
There is a picture of Caroline’s parents in one of the state rooms of
the castle, which depicts her father as a full-faced, portly man, with
a brown wig, clasping the hand of a plump, highly-coloured young woman,
with auburn hair, and large blue eyes. It is easy to see that Caroline
derived her good looks from her mother. Her father died in 1686, and
was succeeded by his son, George Frederick, who was the offspring of
the first marriage.
[Illustration: THE CASTLE OF ANSBACH.]
As the Margrave George Frederick was a lad of fourteen years of age
at the time of his father’s death, the Elector Frederick the Third
of Brandenburg acted as his guardian, and for the next seven years
Ansbach was under the rule of a minor. As the minor was her stepson,
who had never shown any affection for his stepmother or her children,
the position of the widowed Margravine Eleanor was not a pleasant one.
She was friendly with the Elector and Electress of Brandenburg, and
looked to them for support, and on the eve of her stepson’s majority
she went to Berlin on a long visit, taking with her the little Princess
Caroline, and leaving behind at Ansbach her son, William Frederick,
who was heir-presumptive to the margravate. The visit was eventful,
for during it Eleanor became betrothed to the Elector of Saxony, John
George the Fourth.
The betrothal arose directly out of the newly formed alliance between
the Electors of Brandenburg and Saxony. At the time of his meeting
with the young Margravine Eleanor the Elector of Saxony was only
twenty-five years of age. Nature had endowed him with considerable
talents and great bodily strength, though a blow on the head had
weakened his mental powers, and his manhood did not fulfil the promise
of his youth. Before he succeeded to the electorate of Saxony he had
conceived a violent passion for Magdalen Sybil von Röohlitz, the
daughter of a colonel of the Saxon guard, a brunette of surpassing
beauty, but so ignorant that her mother had to write her love letters
for her. Magdalen gained complete sway over the young Elector, and she,
in her turn, was the tool of her ambitious and intriguing mother. The
Elector endowed his favourite with great wealth, gave her a palace and
lands, surrounded her with a little court, and honoured her as though
she were his consort. The high Saxon officials refused to bow down to
the mistress, more especially as she was said to be in the pay of the
Emperor of Austria, whereas the popular policy in Saxony at that time
was to lean towards Brandenburg.
The Elector of Brandenburg and his consort the Electress Sophie
Charlotte came to Torgau in 1692 to strengthen the alliance between the
electorates. The two Electors formed a new order to commemorate the
_entente_, which was called the “Order of the Golden Bracelet”. The
Saxon Ministers hoped by this friendship to draw their Elector from
the toils of his mistress and of Austria, and they persuaded him to
pay a return visit to the Court of Berlin. While there the Elector of
Saxony met the young widow the Margravine Eleanor, and became betrothed
to her, to the great joy of the Elector and Electress of Brandenburg.
The wedding was arranged to take place a little later at Leipzig, and
for a time everything went smoothly; it seemed that the power of the
mistress was broken, and she would have to retire. But when the Elector
of Brandenburg and the Electress Sophie Charlotte accompanied the
Margravine Eleanor to Leipzig for the wedding, they found the Elector
of Saxony in quite another frame of mind, and he insulted his future
wife by receiving her in company with his mistress. The negotiations
had to begin all over again, but after a great deal of unpleasantness
and many delays, the Elector of Saxony married, very ungraciously and
manifestly under protest, the unfortunate Eleanor.
The Elector of Saxony’s dislike to his wife, and his reluctance to
live with her, had been so marked even before marriage, that many
wondered why the Margravine was so foolish as to enter upon a union
which held out so slender a promise of happiness. But in truth she
had not much choice; she had very little dower, she was anxious to
find a home for herself and her daughter Caroline, and she was largely
dependent on the Elector of Brandenburg’s goodwill; she was, in short,
the puppet of a political intrigue. She returned with the Elector of
Saxony to Dresden, where her troubles immediately began. The mistress
had now been promoted to the rank of a countess. The Electress’s
interests were with Brandenburg, and the Countess’s with Vienna, and,
apart from their domestic rivalries, their political differences soon
led to friction. The Elector openly slighted and neglected his wife,
and things went from bad to worse at the Saxon Court; so much so,
that the state of morals and manners threatened to culminate in open
bigamy. The Countess von Röohlitz, prompted by her mother, declared her
intention of becoming the wife of the Elector though he was married
already, and though she could not take the title of Electress, and
the Elector supported her in this extraordinary demand. He gave her
a written promise of marriage, and caused pamphlets to be circulated
in defence of polygamy. It was vain for the Electress to protest; her
life was in danger, attempts were made to poison her, and at last she
was compelled to withdraw from the Court of Dresden to the dower-house
of Pretsch, taking her daughter Caroline with her. The mistress had
won all along the line, but in the supreme hour of her triumph she
was struck down by small-pox and died after a brief illness. The
Elector, who was half-crazed with grief, would not leave her bedside
during the whole of her illness. He, too, caught the disease, and
died eleven days later. He was succeeded by his brother, Augustus
Frederick, better known as “Augustus the Strong,” and Eleanor became
the Electress-dowager of Saxony.
In the autumn of the same year (1694) the Elector and Electress of
Brandenburg paid a visit to the Electress Eleanor, whose health had
broken down, and assured her of their support and affection, as indeed
they ought to have done, considering that they were largely the cause
of her troubles. At the same time the Elector and Electress promised to
look after the interests of the little Princess Caroline, and to treat
her as though she were their own daughter.
The next two years were spent by the young princess with her mother
at Pretsch. It was a beautiful spot, surrounded by woods and looking
down the fertile valley of the Elbe, and hard by was the little town
of Wittenberg, one of the cradles of the Reformation. Luther and
Melancthon lived at Wittenberg; their houses are still shown, and it
was here that Luther publicly burned the Papal bull; an oak tree marks
the spot. Caroline must often have visited Wittenberg; she was about
twelve years of age at this time, and advanced beyond her years, and
it may be that much of the sturdy Protestantism of her later life was
due to her early associations with the home of Luther and Melanchthon.
In 1696 Caroline was left an orphan by the death of her mother, and was
placed under the care of her guardians, the Elector and Electress of
Brandenburg, at Berlin.
FOOTNOTE TO BOOK I, CHAPTER I:
[2] The last of the Margraves of Brandenburg-Ansbach, Christian
Frederick Charles Alexander, was born at Ansbach in 1736. He was the
nephew of Queen Caroline, and married first a princess of Saxe-Coburg,
and secondly the Countess of Craven (_née_ Lady Elizabeth Berkeley),
who called herself the “Margravine of Ansbach and Princess Berkeley”.
Having no heirs he sold his Margravate to the King of Prussia in 1791,
and came to live in England with his second wife. He bought Brandenburg
House, and was very beneficent and fond of sport, being well known on
the turf. He died at a ripe old age in the reign of George IV. In 1806
Ansbach was transferred by Napoleon from Prussia to Bavaria, an act
which was confirmed by the Congress of Vienna in 1815, and with Bavaria
it has since remained. Occasionally some members of the Bavarian royal
family visit Ansbach and stay at the palace, but it has long ceased to
be a princely residence.
CHAPTER II.
THE COURT OF BERLIN.
1696–1705.
The Court of Berlin, where Caroline was to spend the most
impressionable years of her life, was queened over at this time by
one of the most intellectual and gifted princesses in Europe. Sophie
Charlotte, Electress of Brandenburg, who in 1701, on her husband’s
assumption of the regal dignity, became first Queen of Prussia,
was the daughter of that remarkable woman, the Electress Sophia of
Hanover, and granddaughter of the gifted and beautiful Elizabeth,
Queen of Bohemia, daughter of James the First of England. These three
princesses--grandmother, mother and daughter--formed a trinity of
wonderful women.
Like her mother and grandmother, Sophie Charlotte inherited many traits
from her Stuart ancestors; Mary’s wit and passion, James the First’s
love of metaphysical and theological disputations, were reproduced
in her, and she possessed to no small degree the beauty, dignity and
personal charm characteristic of the race, which even the infusion of
sluggish German blood could not mar. Her mother had carefully trained
her with a view to her making a great match some day; she was an
accomplished musician, and a great linguist, speaking French, English
and Italian as fluently as her native tongue, perhaps more so. She had
read much and widely, an unusual thing among German princesses of that
age. Sophie Charlotte’s religious education was hardly on a level with
her secular one, as the Electress Sophia, in accordance with her policy
of making all considerations subservient to her daughter’s future
advancement, decided to bring her up with an open mind in matters
of religion and in the profession of no faith, so that she might be
eligible to marry the most promising prince who presented himself,
whether he were Catholic or Protestant. As a courtly biographer put it:
“She (Sophie Charlotte) refrained from any open confession of faith
until her marriage, for reasons of prudence and state, because only
then would she be able to judge which religion would suit best her
condition of life”.
Despite this theological complaisance, several eligible matches
projected with Roman Catholic princes fell through, and the young
princess’s religion was finally settled on the Protestant side, for
when the Electoral Prince of Brandenburg, son of the Great Elector,
came forward as a suitor, Sophia eagerly accepted him for her daughter,
notwithstanding that he was a widower, twelve years older than his
bride, deformed, and of anything but an amiable reputation. These
drawbacks were trifles compared with the fact that he was heir to the
most powerful electorate of North Germany. The wedding took place at
Hanover in September, 1684, and the bride and bridegroom made their
state entry into Berlin two months afterwards. A few years later Sophie
Charlotte gave birth to a son, Frederick William, who was destined
to become the second King of Prussia and the father of Frederick the
Great. Four years later the Great Elector died; and with her husband’s
accession she became the reigning Electress of Brandenburg and later
Queen of Prussia.
The salient points of Sophie Charlotte’s character now made themselves
manifest. The Court of Berlin was a brilliant one, and modelled
on that of the King of France, for the King of Prussia refused to
dispense with any detail of pomp or ceremony, holding, like the
Grand Monarque, that a splendid and stately court was the outward
and visible sign of a prince’s power and greatness. He had a passion
for display, and would spend hours debating the most trivial points
of court etiquette. This was weariness of the soul to the Queen, for
she cared nothing for the pomp and circumstance of sovereignty. She
was careful to discharge her ceremonial duties, but she did so in the
spirit of magnificent indifference. “Leibniz talked to me to-day of
the infinitely little,” she wrote once to her friend and confidante,
Marie von Pöllnitz. “_Mon Dieu_, as if I did not know enough about
that.” The young Queen had arrived at a great position, but her heart
was empty; she tolerated her husband, but she felt towards him nothing
warmer than a half-contemptuous liking. The King, on his part, was
proud of his beautiful and talented consort, though he was rather
afraid of her. It would have been easy for Sophie Charlotte, had she
been so minded, to have gained great influence over her husband, and
to have governed Brandenburg and Prussia through him, but though her
intellect was masculine in its calibre, unlike her mother, she had no
love of domination, and cared not to meddle with affairs of state.
These things were to her but vanity, and she preferred rather to live a
life of intellectual contemplation and philosophic calm; the scientific
discoveries of Newton were more to her than kingdoms, and the latest
theory of Leibniz than all the pomp and circumstance of the court.
The King made her a present of the château of Lützenburg, later called
after her Charlottenburg, just outside Berlin, and here she was able to
gratify her love of art and beautiful things to the utmost. The gardens
were laid out after the plan of Versailles, by Le Nôtre, with terraces,
statues and fountains. Magnificent pictures, beautiful carpets, rarest
furniture of inlaid ebony and ivory, porcelain and crystal, were
stored in this lordly pleasure-house, and made it a palace of luxury
and art. The King thought nothing too costly or magnificent for his
Queen, though he did not follow her in her literary and philosophic
bent, and Lützenburg became famous throughout Europe, not only for its
splendour, for there were many palaces more splendid, but because it
was the chosen home of its beautiful mistress, and the meeting-place
of all the talents. At Lützenburg, surrounded by a special circle
of intellectual friends, the Queen enjoyed the free interchange of
ideas, and discussed all things without restraint; wit and talent, and
not wealth and rank, gave the _entrée_ there. At Lützenburg she held
receptions on certain evenings in the week, and on these occasions
all trammels of court etiquette were laid aside, and everything was
conducted without ostentation or ceremony. Intellectual conversations,
the reading of great books, learned discussions, and, for occasional
relaxation, music and theatricals, often kept the company late into
the night at Lützenburg, and it frequently happened that some of the
courtiers went straight from one of the Queen’s entertainments to
attend the King’s levée, for he rose at four o’clock in the morning. To
these reunions came not only the most beautiful and gifted ladies of
the court, but learned men from every country in Europe, philosophers,
theologians, both Roman Catholic and Protestant, representatives of
literature, science and art, besides a number of French refugees, who
did not appear at court in the ordinary way. Since the revocation of
the Edict of Nantes, Berlin had become a rallying-place for Huguenots,
many of them men of intellectual eminence and noble birth, who were
banished from their native land. They were made especially welcome at
Lützenburg, where everything was French rather than German. At Sophie
Charlotte’s reunions French only was spoken, and so elegant were the
appointments, so perfect was the taste, so refined and courteous were
the manners, so brilliant the wit and conversation, that one of the
most celebrated of the Huguenot nobility declared that he felt himself
once again at Versailles, and asked whether the Queen of Prussia could
really speak German.
To Lützenburg came the eloquent Huguenot preacher, Beausobre; Vota,
the celebrated Jesuit and Roman Catholic controversialist; Toland,
the English freethinker; Papendorf, the historian; Handel, the great
musician, when he was a boy; and last and among the greatest, the
famous Leibniz. Hither came often, too, on many a long visit, the
Electress Sophia of Hanover, “the merry _débonnaire_ princess of
Germany,” who, like her daughter, delighted in theological polemics,
and philosophic speculations. Sophie Charlotte’s principles were
exceedingly liberal, so much so that she became known as “the
Republican Queen,” and her early religious training, or rather the
lack of it, was very noticeable in the trend of thought she gave to
her gatherings. She would take nothing for granted, she submitted
everything to the tribunal of reason; her eager and active spirit was
always seeking to know the truth, even “the why of the why,” as Leibniz
grumbled once. Her mother, the Electress Sophia, would seem to have
been a rationalist, with a strong dash of Calvinism. Sophie Charlotte
went a step farther; she was nothing of a Calvinist, but rather leant
to the theories of Descartes. “My mother is a clever woman, but a bad
Christian,” said her son once, and that was true if he meant a dogmatic
Christian, though Leibniz had a theory for reconciling Christianity
and reason, which especially commended itself to her. She took a keen
interest in theological polemics, and whenever any clever Jesuit came
her way, she delighted in nothing so much as to get him to expound his
views, and then put up one of her chaplains to answer him. In this way
she set the Jesuit Vota disputing with the Protestant Brensenius, and
the orthodox Huguenot Beausobre with the freethinking sceptic Toland.
Nor were these arguments confined to theological subjects; scientific,
philosophic and social questions--everything, in short, came within the
debatable ground, and on one occasion we hear of a long and animated
argument on the question whether marriage was, or was not, ordained
for the procreation of children! The Queen presided over all these
intellectual tournaments, throwing in a suggestion here or raising a
doubt there; she was always able to draw the best out of every one, and
thanks to her tact and amiability, the disputes on thorny questions
were invariably conducted without unpleasantness.
[Illustration: LÜTZENBURG (CHARLOTTENBURG).]
This was the home in which Caroline spent the greater part of nine
years, and we have dwelt upon it because the impressions she received
and the opinions she formed at Lützenburg, during her girlhood
influenced her in after years. The King of Prussia was Caroline’s
guardian, and after her mother’s death, Sophie Charlotte assumed a
mother’s place to the little princess, who had now become an orphan and
friendless indeed. Her step-brother was ruling at Ansbach, and Caroline
was not very welcome there; indeed she was looked upon rather as an
encumbrance than otherwise, and the only thing to be done was to marry
her off as quickly as possible. There seems to have been some idea of
betrothing her, when she was a mere child, to the Duke of Saxe-Gotha,
but she could hardly have been in love with him, as Horace Walpole
relates, for the Duke married some one else when Caroline was only
thirteen years of age.
Sophie Charlotte caused her adopted daughter to be thoroughly educated,
and carefully trained in the accomplishments necessary to her position.
Caroline’s quickness and natural ability early made themselves
manifest. Sophie Charlotte had no daughter of her own, and her heart
went out to the young Princess of Ansbach, who returned her love
fourfold, and looked up to her with something akin to adoration. Her
admiration led to a remarkable likeness between the two in speech and
gesture; nor did the likeness end here. Caroline was early admitted to
the reunions at Lützenburg, and permitted to listen to the frank and
free discussions which took place there. Such a training, though it
might shake her beliefs, could not fail to sharpen her wits and enlarge
her knowledge, and there is abundant evidence to show that in later
life she adopted Sophie Charlotte’s views, not only in ethics and
philosophy, but in conduct and morals. But she was more practical and
less transcendental than the Queen of Prussia, and, like the Electress
Sophia, she loved power, and took a keen interest in political affairs.
In this manner Caroline’s girlhood passed. We may picture her walking
up and down the garden walks and terraces of Lützenburg hearing Leibniz
expound his philosophy, or sitting with the Queen of Prussia on her
favourite seat under the limes discussing with her “the why of the
why”. She was the Queen’s constant companion and joy, and when, as it
sometimes happened, she was obliged to leave Berlin for a while to pay
a visit to her brother at Ansbach, Sophie Charlotte declared she found
Lützenburg “a desert”.
Leibniz, Sophie Charlotte’s chosen guide, philosopher and friend,
is worthy of more than passing notice, since his influence over the
Princess Caroline was second only to that of the Queen of Prussia
herself. In Caroline’s youth, Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz was a prominent
figure at Berlin, whither he frequently journeyed from Hanover. He was
one of the most learned men of his time, almost equally eminent as a
philosopher, mathematician and man of affairs. He was born in 1646
at Leipzig, and after a distinguished university career at Jena and
Altdorf, he entered the service of the Elector-Archbishop of Mainz,
and, as he possessed the pen of a ready writer, he was employed by
him to advance his schemes. The Archbishop later sent him to Paris,
nominally with a scheme he had evolved for the re-conquest of Egypt,
really with the hope of distracting Louis the Fourteenth’s attention
from German affairs, so that Leibniz went in a dual capacity, as a
diplomatist and as an author. In Paris the young philosopher became
acquainted with Arnauld and Malebranche. From Paris he went to London,
where he met Newton, Oldenburg and Boyle. His intimacy with these
distinguished men stimulated his interest in mathematics. In 1676,
when he was thirty years of age, Leibniz quitted the service of Mainz
and entered that of Hanover. For the next forty years his headquarters
were at Hanover, where he had charge of the archives, and worked
also at politics, labouring unceasingly with his pen to promote the
aggrandisement of the House of Hanover, especially to obtain for it
the electoral dignity. Leibniz’s work threw him much in contact with
the Electress Sophia, with whom he became a trusted and confidential
friend, and whose wide views were largely coloured by his liberal
philosophy.
Leibniz had a positive passion for work, and in these, the most active
years of his life, he not only laboured at political affairs, but
worked hard at philosophy and mathematics, turning out book after book
with amazing rapidity. At the suggestion of the Electress Sophia, he
concerned himself with theology too, and strove at one time to promote
the reunion of the Catholic and Protestant creeds, his principal
correspondent being Bossuet. The English Act of Parliament, vesting
the succession to the throne of England in the Electress Sophia and
the heirs of her body, _being Protestant_, put a summary stop to these
labours. Henceforth there was no more coquetting with Roman Catholicism
at Hanover. The Electress Sophia, Calvinist though she was, affected to
manifest an interest in the Church of England, and especially favoured
the English Protestant Nonconformists.
To consult archives for his history of the Brunswick-Lüneburg family,
which he had been commanded to write, Leibniz travelled to Munich,
Vienna, Rome and other cities. At Rome, the Pope, impressed by his
great learning and controversial ability, offered him the custodianship
of the Vatican library, if he would become a Roman Catholic, but
Leibniz declined the offer. Apart from the fact that it involved
submission to the Roman Church, it did not offer him a sufficiently
wide field for his ambition. It is impossible to withhold some pity
from this great scholar. He was one of those who put their trust in
princes; he was greedy of money, honours and worldly fame; he loved
the atmosphere of courts, and to have the ear of those who sit in high
places, and so he deliberately prostituted his giant brain to writing
panegyrics of the princes of paltry dukedoms, when he might have
employed it to working out some of the greatest problems that interest
mankind.
His worldly prospects at this time largely depended on the Queen of
Prussia. Sophie Charlotte had known him at Hanover, and she invited him
to Lützenburg. Through his influence she induced the King of Prussia to
found the Academy of Science in Berlin, and to make Leibniz its first
president. At his suggestion also, similar societies were founded in
St. Petersburg, Dresden and Vienna, under the immediate patronage of
the reigning monarchs, who were thus able to pose as patrons of the
arts and sciences. Leibniz received honours from all of them, and the
Emperor created him a baron of the empire.
Leibniz often met the Princess of Ansbach at the Queen of Prussia’s
reunions, and he noted how high she stood in the favour of his royal
mistress. He became attracted to her by her wit and conversation, which
were unusual in a princess of her years. He spoke of her in glowing
terms to the Electress Sophia, who later made acquaintance with the
young princess at Berlin, and she, too, was charmed with her talents
and beauty. Leibniz, who was much at Berlin in those days, kept his
venerable mistress at Hanover acquainted with the movements of the
princess. We find him, for instance, writing to tell the Electress that
Caroline had returned to Berlin after a brief visit to Ansbach, and of
the Queen’s pleasure at seeing her again. The Electress Sophia replied
from Herrenhausen, desiring him to assure Caroline of her affection,
and adding, “If it depended on me, I would have her kidnapped, and keep
her always here”. This seems to show that, even at this early date,
Sophia had it in her mind that she would like Caroline to marry her
grandson, George Augustus.
In the autumn of 1704 the Electress Sophia paid a long visit to her
beloved daughter, and spent two months with her at Lützenburg. The King
of Prussia had great respect for his mother-in-law; she agreed with
him in his love of pageantry, and, like him, was a great stickler for
points of etiquette. But she had a larger mind, and was not content
with the mere show of sovereignty: she loved the substance--domination
and power. The Queen of Prussia received her mother with every
demonstration of joy, and the festivities of Lützenburg were set
going in her honour. Leibniz and Beausobre were there, and many
intellectual tournaments took place. The Princess Caroline was there
too, whom Sophia observed with especial interest. Caroline was now
in her twenty-first year, and had blossomed into lovely womanhood;
her features were regular, she had abundant fair hair, large blue
eyes, a tall and supple figure and a stately bearing. The fame of her
beauty and high qualities had travelled through Europe. True she was
dowerless, the orphan daughter of a petty prince of no importance,
but her guardian was the King of Prussia, and she was known to be the
adopted daughter of his Queen. Thus it came about that her hand was
sought by some of the most powerful princes in Europe, notably by the
Archduke Charles, titular King of Spain, and heir to the Emperor, whom
he later succeeded. The idea of this marriage had long been in the
air, but in 1704 it took definite shape, and the Elector Palatine,
who was interested in the matter from political reasons, solicited
Caroline’s hand for the Archduke. Negotiations were proceeding while
the Electress Sophia was at Lützenburg. We find Leibniz writing from
there:--
“Apparently the Electress remains here until November, and will stay
as long as the Queen is here. Two young princesses, the hereditary
Princess of Cassel and the Princess of Ansbach, are also here, and I
heard them sing the other night, a little _divertimento musicale_, the
latter taking the part of ‘Night,’ the former that of ‘Aurora,’ the
equinox adjusting the difference. The Princess of Cassel sings very
tunefully; the Princess of Ansbach has a wonderful voice. Every one
predicts the Spanish crown for her, but she deserves something surer
than that crown is at present, though it may become more important;
besides, the King of Spain (the Archduke) is an amiable prince.”[3]
The predictions were a little premature, for the Archduke’s wooing did
not progress satisfactorily. As Leibniz said, the prospects of the
Spanish crown were somewhat unsettled, though they were sufficiently
dazzling to tempt a less ambitious princess than Caroline, and she was
always ambitious. Her heart was free, but if it had not been, she had
well learned the lesson that hearts are the last things to be taken
into account in state marriages. A more serious difficulty arose in the
matter of religion. In order to marry the titular King of Spain it was
necessary for Caroline to become a Roman Catholic, and this she could
not make up her mind to do. Perhaps she had inherited the Protestant
spirit of her famous ancestor, George the Pious; perhaps the influences
of Wittenberg were strong upon her. She was certainly influenced by the
liberal views of the Queen of Prussia and the arguments she had heard
at the reunions at Lützenburg. She was all for liberty of conscience in
matters of faith, and shrank from embracing a positive religion, and of
all religions Roman Catholicism is the most positive. Besides, it would
seem that, though indifferent to most forms of religion, she really
disliked Roman Catholicism, and all through her life she was consistent
in her objection to it. Her guardian, the King of Prussia, though a
Protestant himself, could not sympathise with her scruples. In his view
young princesses should adapt their religion to political exigencies,
and so he made light of her objections, and urged her to marry the King
of Spain. Her adopted mother, Sophie Charlotte, maintained a neutral
attitude: she was loath to part with her, but she refused to express an
opinion either way. But the Electress Sophia, who was nothing if not
Protestant, since her English prospects were wholly dependent on her
Protestantism, greatly desired Caroline as a wife for her grandson,
George Augustus, and did all she could to influence her against the
match. She writes from Lützenburg: “Our beautiful Princess of Ansbach
has not yet resolved to change her religion. If she remains firm the
marriage will not take place.”[4]
Meanwhile Caroline, perhaps with an idea of gaining time, or forced
into it, consented to receive the Jesuit priest Urban, and allow him to
argue with her. The Electress Sophia again writes: “The dear Princess
of Ansbach is being sadly worried. She has resolved to do nothing
against her conscience, but Urban is very able, and can easily overcome
the stupid Lutheran priests here. If I had my way, she would not be
worried like this, and our court would be happy. But it seems that it
is not God’s will that I should be happy with her; we at Hanover shall
hardly find any one better.”[5] The result of these interviews was
uncertain, for the Electress Sophia writes a few days later: “First
the Princess of Ansbach says ‘Yes’ and then ‘No’. First she says we
Protestants have no valid priests, then that Catholics are idolatrous
and accursed, and then again that our religion is the better. What the
result will be I do not know. The Princess is shortly leaving here,
and so it must be either ‘Yes’ or ‘No’. When Urban comes to see the
Princess the Bible lies between them on the table, and they argue at
length. Of course, the Jesuit, who has studied more, argues her down,
and then the Princess weeps.”[6]
The young Princess’s tears lend a touch of pathos to this picture. Be
it remembered that she was absolutely alone, poor, orphaned, dependent
on the favour of her guardians, one of whom was strongly in favour of
this match. If she consented, she would violate her conscience, it is
true, but she would gain honour, riches and power, all of which she
ardently desired. The powerful pressure of the King of Prussia, the
most persuasive arguments of the Jesuit, and the subtle promptings of
self-interest and ambition were all brought to bear on her. It says
much for Caroline’s strength of character that she did not yield, and
shows that she was of no common mould. That she refused definitely
is shown by the following letter which the Electress Sophia wrote
on her return to Hanover to Leibniz, whom she had left behind her
at Lützenburg: “Most people here applaud the Princess of Ansbach’s
decision, and I have told the Duke of Celle that he deserves her for
his grandson. I think the Prince (George Augustus) likes the idea
also, for in talking with him about her, he said, ‘I am very glad that
you desire her for me’. Count Platen (the Prime Minister), to whom I
mentioned the matter, is not opposed, but does not wish it so much.”[7]
Leibniz had something to do with Caroline’s decision, and he drafted
the letter for her in which she declined further negotiations. The King
of Prussia was angry, and roundly cursed Hanoverian interference, as
he called it; indeed, he made things so uncomfortable that Caroline
thought it advisable to leave Berlin for Ansbach until her guardian
should become more amiable. Her step-brother was dead, and her own
brother was now Margrave. From Ansbach we find her writing to Leibniz
at Berlin:--
“I received your letter with the greatest pleasure, and am glad to
think that I still retain your friendship and your remembrance. I
much desire to show my gratitude for all the kindness you paid me at
Lützenburg. I am delighted to hear from you that the Queen and the
court regret my departure, but I am sad not to have the happiness of
paying my _devoirs_ to our incomparable Queen. I pray you on the next
occasion assure her of my deep respect. I do not think the King of
Spain is troubling himself any more about me. On the contrary, they are
incensed at my disinclination to follow the advice of Father Urban.
Every post brings me letters from that kind priest. I really think his
persuasions contributed materially to the uncertainty I felt during
those three months, from which I am now quite recovered. The Electress
(Sophia) does me too much honour in remembering me; she has no more
devoted servant than myself, and I understand her pleasure in having
the Crown Prince (of Prussia) at Hanover.”[8]
The Crown Prince of Prussia, Frederick William, had spent a good deal
of time at the Hanoverian Court when a boy. His grandmother, the
Electress Sophia, had wished to educate him at Hanover with her other
grandson, George Augustus, but Frederick William was of a quarrelsome
disposition, and pummelled George Augustus so unmercifully that they
had to be separated. Their hatred for one another lasted through life.
Frederick William was a headstrong and violent youth, with ungovernable
passions; even when a boy it was dangerous to thwart him in any way.
The boy was father to the man. As the Crown Prince grew up, his mother
had occasion to reproach him again and again for his unenviable
qualities, among which avarice, rudeness and lack of consideration for
others were prominent.
The Queen of Prussia would have liked Caroline as a wife for her son,
but the King had other and more ambitious views. He was not, however,
opposed to the idea, in case all his other plans fell through. Neither
Caroline nor the Crown Prince had any inclination for each other, and
the scheme never took any definite shape, though it might have done
so had the Queen lived. Meanwhile it was resolved to send Frederick
William on a tour of foreign travel, in the hope that a greater
knowledge of the world would improve his manners and morals. The Queen
felt the parting keenly, for she truly loved her son (her only child),
and though indifferent about other matters, she was keenly practical
in anything that concerned his interest. After he had gone there was
found a sheet of notepaper on her writing-table at Lützenburg, on which
she had drawn a heart and underneath had written the date and the words
“_Il est parti_”.
It is probable that this parting preyed upon the Queen of Prussia’s
health, which was never strong, and made her more anxious to visit her
mother. In January, 1705, she set out for Hanover, notwithstanding
the opposition of the King and the severity of the weather. The long
journey was too much for her. At Magdeburg she broke down, and had to
take to her bed; but she rallied, and again took the road. After she
had reached Hanover she seemed to conquer her illness, a tumour in
the throat, by sheer force of will. In a few days, however, dangerous
symptoms developed, and she became rapidly worse. Doctors were called
in, and it was soon recognised that there was no hope left.
When the news was broken to the Queen, with the greatest composure and
without any fear of death she resigned herself to the inevitable. Her
death-bed belongs to history. A great deal of conflicting testimony
has gathered around her last hours, but probably the account given
by Frederick the Great, who had exceptional opportunities of knowing
the truth, is a correct one. The French chaplain at Hanover, de la
Bergerie, came to offer his ministrations, but she said to him: “Let
me die without quarrelling with you. For twenty years I have devoted
earnest study to religious questions; you can tell me nothing that I
do not know already, and I die in peace.” To her lady-in-waiting she
exclaimed: “What a useless fuss and ceremony they will make over this
poor body”; and when she saw that she was in tears, she said, “Why do
you weep? Did you think I was immortal?” And again: “Do not pity me. I
am at last going to satisfy my curiosity about the origin of things,
which even Leibniz could never explain to me, to understand space,
infinity, being and nothingness; and as for the King, my husband--well,
I shall afford him the opportunity of giving me a magnificent funeral,
and displaying all the pomp he loves so much.” Her aged mother,
broken down with grief, was ill in an adjoining room, and unable to
come to her; but to her brothers, George Louis (afterwards George the
First, King of England) and Ernest Augustus, she bade an affectionate
farewell. The pastor reminded her tritely that kings and queens were
mortal equally with other men. She answered, “_Je le sais bien_,” and
with a sigh expired.
[Illustration: SOPHIA CHARLOTTE, QUEEN OF PRUSSIA.
_From the Original Portrait by Wiedman._]
Sophie Charlotte was in her thirty-seventh year when she died, and at
her death a great light went out. She would have been a remarkable
woman under any conditions; she was doubly remarkable when we remember
her time and her environment. In her large brain and generous
sympathies, her love of art and letters, and her desire to raise the
intellectual life of those around her the first Queen of Prussia
strongly resembled one of her successors who has recently passed
away--the late Empress Frederick. She resembled her also in that during
her lifetime she was often misrepresented and misunderstood, and her
great qualities of head and heart were not fully appreciated until
after her death.
FOOTNOTES TO BOOK I, CHAPTER II:
[3] Leibniz to State Minister du Cros, Lützenburg, 25th October, 1704.
[4] The Electress Sophia to the Raugravine Louise, Lützenburg, 21st
October, 1704.
[5] The Electress Sophia to the Raugravine Louise, Lützenburg, 27th
October, 1704.
[6] The Electress Sophia to the Raugravine Louise, Lützenburg, 1st
November, 1704.
[7] The Electress Sophia to Leibniz, Hanover, 22nd November, 1704.
[8] Princess Caroline of Ansbach to Leibniz, Ansbach, 28th December,
1704.
CHAPTER III.
THE WOOING OF THE PRINCESS.
1705.
The Queen of Prussia’s death was one of the great sorrows of Caroline’s
life. She was at Ansbach when Sophie Charlotte died, slowly recovering
from a low fever. The sad news from Hanover plunged her into the
deepest grief, and seriously hindered her convalescence. Leibniz,
who had also lost his best friend in the Queen, wrote to Caroline
to express his grief and sympathy; he also took this opportunity to
explain his views on the Divine scheme of things.
“Your Serene Highness,” he writes, “having often done me the honour at
Lützenburg of listening to my views on true piety, will allow me here
to revert to them briefly.
“I am persuaded, not by light conjecture, that everything is ruled
by a Being, whose power is supreme, and whose knowledge infinite and
perfect. If, in this present state, we could understand the Divine
scheme of things, we should see that everything is ordered for the
best, not only generally but individually, for those who have a true
love of God and confidence in His goodness. The teachings of Scripture
conform to reason when they say that all things work together for good
to those who love God. Thus perfect love is consummated in the joy of
finding perfection in the object beloved, and this is felt by those
who recognise Divine perfection in all that it pleases God to do. If
we had the power now to realise the marvellous beauty and harmony of
things, we should reduce happiness to a science, and live in a state
of perpetual blessedness. But since this beauty is hidden from our
eyes, and we see around us a thousand sights that shock us, and cause
temptation to the weak and ignorant, our love of God and our trust in
His goodness are founded on faith, not yet lost in sight or verified by
the senses.
“Herein, madam, may be found, broadly speaking, the three cardinal
virtues of Christianity: faith, hope and love. Herein, too, may be
found the essence of the piety which Christ taught--trust in the
Supreme Reason, even where our reason fails without Divine grace to
grasp its working, and although there may seem to be little reason
in it. I have often discussed these broad principles with the late
Queen. She understood them well, and her wonderful insight enabled her
to realise much that I was unable to explain. This resignation, this
trust, this merging of a tranquil soul in its God, showed itself in all
her words and actions to the last moment of her life.”[9]
Caroline’s answer to this letter shows that she had not yet arrived at
the heights of Leibniz’s philosophy: “Heaven,” she says, “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 have lived, and I beseech you to express my devotion to her.”[10]
To add to Caroline’s troubles, the Elector Palatine showed signs at
this time of reviving his favourite project of marrying her to the King
of Spain, notwithstanding her definite refusal the year before. He
probably thought, as the death of Queen Sophie Charlotte had materially
affected for the worse the position and prospects of her ward, that
the young Princess could now be induced to reconsider her decision.
The King of Prussia was of this opinion too, and his tone became
threatening and peremptory; he had no objection to keeping Caroline as
a possible bride for his son in the last resort, but it would suit his
political schemes better to see her married to the future Emperor. But
Caroline found an unexpected ally in her brother, the young Margrave
of Ansbach, who resented, as much as he dared, the interference of the
King of Prussia, and told his sister that she was not to do violence
to her convictions, and that she might make her home with him as long
as she pleased. Thus fortified, Caroline stood firm in her resistance,
though by so doing she refused the most brilliant match in Europe.
With the spring things grew brighter; Caroline could not mourn for
ever, and thanks to a strong constitution, youth and health asserted
themselves, and she quite recovered her beauty and her vivacity. The
Ansbach burghers knew all about her refusal of the future Emperor, and
they honoured her for her courage and firmness, and were proud of their
beautiful young princess, whom the greatest prince in Europe had sued
in vain. Caroline interested herself in many schemes of usefulness
in her brother’s principality, and went in and out among the people
displaying those rare social gifts which stood her in good stead in
later years. Perhaps this was the happiest period of her life, and
though she was at Ansbach only for a short time, she always retained an
affection for the place of her birth, and an interest in the fortunes
of her family. Yet she must have felt the contrast between quiet little
Ansbach and the brilliant circle at Berlin; her energetic and ambitious
temperament was not one which could have long remained content with an
equivocal position in a petty German Court, and she must have wondered
what the future had in store for her.
Caroline was not destined to regret her refusal of the Imperial
diadem. “Providence,” as Addison put it later, “kept a reward in
store for such exalted virtue;” and her “pious firmness,” as Burnet
unctuously called her rejection of the future Emperor, “was not to
go unrequited, even in this life”.[11] In June, the fairest month of
all the year at little Ansbach, when the trim palace garden was full
of roses, and the lime trees in the Hofgarten were in fragrant bloom,
the Electoral Prince George Augustus of Hanover came to see and woo
the beautiful princess like the Prince Charming in the fairy tale.
George Augustus was not exactly a Prince Charming either in appearance
or character, but at this time he passed muster. He was a few months
younger than Caroline, and though he was short in stature, he was well
set up, and had inherited some of his mother’s beauty, especially her
large almond-shaped eyes. The court painters depict him as by no means
an ill-looking youth, and the court scribes, after the manner of their
kind, described him as a prince of the highest qualities, with a grace
of bearing and charm of manner. Flatterers as well as detractors unite
in declaring him to be possessed of physical courage, as daring and
impulsive, and often prompted by his heart. George Augustus had his
defects, as we shall see later; they developed as the years went on,
but they were not on the surface now, and it was only the surface that
the young Princess saw.
The wooing of Caroline was full of romance and mystery; even the bare
record of it, as related in the state papers and despatches of the
day, cannot altogether keep these elements out. The Elector George
of Hanover determined that his son should visit Ansbach in disguise,
and, under a feigned name, see and converse with the Princess, so that
he might find out if he could love her, if she were likely to love
him, and whether she was really so beautiful and charming as rumour
had described her. The Elector knew by bitter experience the misery
of a state marriage between an ill-assorted husband and wife, and he
determined to spare his son a similar fate. Extraordinary care was
taken to preserve the Prince’s _incognito_, and to prevent his mission
being known before everything was settled. There was an additional
reason for this secrecy, as the King of Prussia would certainly try to
prevent the marriage if he got to know of it in time.
Prince George Augustus rode out of Hanover at night, no one knew
whither, but his absence from the court was soon remarked, and the
quidnuncs were all agog. The English Envoy at Hanover, Poley, writes
home as follows:--
“Our Electoral Prince went out of town at about twelve o’clock at
night, attended only by the Baron von Eltz (who had formerly been his
governor and is one of these Ministers) and one valet-de-chambre. This
journey is a mystery of which I know nothing, but it seems probable
that he will make use of the Princess of Hesse’s passing through Celle
to view _incognito_ a Princess of that family who is thought to come
with her. There is a Princess of Saxe-Zeith, also, said to be the most
beautiful in Germany.... In what concerns the Prince’s own inclination
in this business, his Highness hath not hitherto appeared so much
concerned for the character and beauty of any young lady he hath
account of, as the Princess of Ansbach. The mystery of this journey at
least will soon be discovered. There is in this court a real desire of
marrying the prince very soon.”[12]
Meanwhile George Augustus, in accordance with the Elector’s plan,
had arrived at Ansbach. He professed to be a young Hanoverian noble
travelling for pleasure, who expected to meet at Nuremberg some
travelling companions from Westphalia, but as they had failed to
appear, he found Nuremberg dull, and came on to Ansbach to see the town
and visit its court. He and his companion, Baron von Eltz, presented
introductions from Count Platen, the Hanoverian Prime Minister,
commending them to the good offices of the Margrave. They were received
at the palace and treated with all hospitality; they were invited to
supper, and joined the circle afterwards at music and cards. George
Augustus, in the guise of a Hanoverian nobleman, was presented to the
Princess Caroline, and conversed with her for some time. According to
his subsequent declarations he was so much charmed with her that he
fell in love at first sight. She far exceeded all that rumour had
declared. It may be presumed that he kept his ardour in check, and
Caroline had no idea who he was. But whether she had an inkling or
not, she betrayed no sign, and played her part to perfection. After a
few days’ sojourn at Ansbach the young prince departed, apparently to
Nuremberg to meet his friends, in reality to hasten back to Hanover
to tell his father that he was very much in love. Here again we quote
Poley:--
“The Prince Electoral is returned and gone to Herrenhausen. He was
about two hours with the Elector alone, and the Elector’s appearing
afterwards in good humour at table makes it to be imagined that there
hath nothing happened but what he is well pleased with. Some with whom
I am acquainted are positively of opinion that his Highness hath been
at Ansbach, and that he declared his design himself in person, and hath
been very well received, and that we shall soon see some effects of it;
others think it is a Princess of Hesse.”[13]
But no explanation of the Prince’s expedition was forthcoming, and the
Elector went off to Pyrmont to take the waters, leaving the Hanoverian
Court in mystification. The secret was well kept; even the Electress
Sophia was not informed, notwithstanding that this was her darling
scheme. The Elector had contempt for women’s discretion; he often
declared that he could not trust a woman’s tongue, and he knew that
his mother was a constant correspondent with the greatest gossip in
Europe, her niece, Elizabeth Charlotte, Duchess of Orleans.
Matters being thus far advanced at Hanover, Eltz was again despatched
to Ansbach. “He hath disappeared secretly,” writes the lynx-eyed Poley,
who was still much mystified. When Eltz returned to Ansbach, he kept
up his disguise and told the Margrave that he had just returned from
Nuremberg, where he had left his young friend. The Elector of Hanover’s
secret instructions to Eltz, and the Envoy’s letters to the Elector
(preserved in the Hanoverian archives) explain what followed, and the
whole of the negotiations at Ansbach. It will be well to quote them in
full:--
_The Elector of Hanover to Privy Councillor von Eltz._
“HANOVER, _June 17th, 1705_.
“Whereas, it is already known to our trusty Envoy, that our son,
the Electoral Prince, has seen the Princess of Ansbach, and is
seized with such an affection and desire for her, that he is most
eager to marry her without delay: We therefore should gladly
rejoice to see such a union take place, and hope that the Princess
may be equally favourably disposed. It is necessary, however, that
her inclinations be assured first of all, and, should she consent
to this alliance, it is our wish that the marriage contracts may be
agreed upon without unnecessary delay.
“We therefore instruct our Envoy to betake himself, secretly
and _incognito_, to the Court of Ansbach. On arriving there he
must feign surprise that his friends from Westphalia, who had
arranged to meet him at Nuremberg on their way to Italy, had not
yet arrived. Moreover, he must say that the young friend who
had accompanied him the last time he was at Ansbach having been
unexpectedly called home, he, our Envoy, found the time of waiting
so long at Nuremberg that he returned to Ansbach, and would
consider it a special favour if he might be allowed to pass a few
more days at that Court.
“Having made this explanation, our Envoy should seek an opportunity
of conversing alone with the Princess, and should say to her
privately, when no one else is within hearing, that he had matters
of importance to bring before her notice, and certain proposals to
make, which he hoped would not prove disagreeable to her. He must
therefore beg her to name a convenient time and opportunity to
grant him an interview alone, but in such a manner as to cause no
comment. He should also ask her, particularly, not to confide to
any one the request he had made, the more especially because the
Princess would subsequently see that the matter was of so delicate
a nature as to require absolute secrecy for the present.
“When our Envoy is admitted to the Princess, he must explain to
her that the young friend who accompanied him on his last visit
to the Court of Ansbach was our son, the Electoral Prince, who
had been so much impressed with the reports of the Princess’s
incomparable beauty and mental attributes that he arranged to
appear _incognito_, and have the honour of seeing and speaking with
the Princess without her knowing his electoral rank and station. As
he had succeeded in doing this, and had found that the reports were
more than verified, our son is so charmed and delighted with her
that he would consider it the height of good fortune to obtain her
for his wife, and has asked our permission to seek this end. As we,
the Elector, have always held the Princess in highest esteem and
repute, we are not a little rejoiced to hear that our son cherished
these sentiments towards her, and we should be even more glad if he
could attain the object of his mission.
“Our Envoy must then declare to the Princess who he himself is, and
by whose authority he has come, and he must sound her as to whether
she be free from all other engagements, and if so he must discover
if her heart be inclined towards our son. Our Envoy, however, must
mention, but not in such a way as to suggest that the Princess of
Ansbach is a _pis aller_ for our son, that this matter would have
been broached sooner on our side, if negotiations for our son’s
marriage had not been going on in Sweden, as was perhaps known in
Ansbach, the result of which had necessarily to be awaited. Besides
we had previously to make sure whether the Princess of Ansbach was
likely to entertain the King of Spain’s suit.
“If the Princess should reply that she is engaged to another, or
if she should behave in such a way as to lead our Envoy to suppose
that she was desirous of avoiding the proposal of marriage from
our son, our Envoy is charged to beg the Princess not to make the
slightest mention of the matter to any one, and, under pretext that
he has received news that his travelling companions have at last
reached Nuremberg, he is to take leave of the Court of Ansbach, and
return hither at once as secretly as he left.
“But should the Princess, in answer to our Envoy’s proposition,
declare, as we hope she will, that she is free from any other
matrimonial engagement, and is inclined to an alliance with our
House, our Envoy will inquire of the Princess, first, whether
she would agree to his having an audience with her brother, the
Margrave, and then, on behalf of our son, he will ask her hand
in marriage. Also, because this matter must be formally dealt
with, and a contract of marriage drawn up, he must find out what
trustees, persons well disposed towards the marriage, he shall ask
the Margrave to nominate, or whether the Princess would prefer
herself to nominate them. The Princess will probably require time
to consider the matter, in which case our Envoy will request her to
think over the question by herself. Should the Princess delay in
coming to a decision, our Envoy, in the most polite and delicate
manner possible, will remind her that he must guard in every way
against the Princess having any kind of communication with the
Court of Berlin until such time as this project of marriage is
so far established as to prevent any possibility of its being
upset; and to this end our Envoy will most strongly urge that only
trustworthy persons favourably disposed towards this marriage be
employed in the drawing up of the contract. Our Envoy will point
out that any communication on this subject with the Court of
Berlin would only create difficulties and loss of time. Our Envoy
knows full well that the sooner our son is married the better.
It is, therefore, most important to prevent any whisper reaching
Berlin, and to keep in ignorance all those persons who would surely
speak against this marriage, and seek to delay it, in the hope of
eventually preventing it altogether. Our Envoy can suggest to the
Princess that an explanation could easily be given to the Court of
Berlin later (with apologies for not having acquainted it before),
to the effect that she was so hard pressed by our Envoy for a
decision, she could not well refrain from accepting at once, the
more especially as it was an offer she had no reason to refuse. Her
brother, the Margrave, could say that he knew nothing of the matter
until the Princess announced that she had chosen our son.”
_Privy Councillor von Eltz to the Elector of Hanover._
“ANSBACH, _June 23rd, 1705_.
“On arriving here yesterday evening I went at once to the Court,
and was presented to the Margrave and her Highness the Princess,
under the name of ‘Steding,’ by Court Marshal von Gerleheim. I
was most graciously received by them both. The Princess commanded
me to be shown to her private apartments, and gave me audience in
her own chamber. There was no one else present, except at first
Fräulein von Genninggen, who stood discreetly apart, and with her
back turned to us; she afterwards, at my suggestion, left the room.
I then took the opportunity to carry out the mission with which
I had been graciously entrusted by your Electoral Highness. I
asked first whether her Highness was free of all other matrimonial
engagements, and in that event whether she was favourably disposed
to the Electoral Prince’s suit?
“Her Highness at first seemed to be surprised and agitated. But
she soon composed herself, and said that I could rest assured that
she was entirely free from any engagements, as the negotiations
between herself and the King of Spain had been completely broken
off. Nevertheless, she added, my proposition came to her very
unexpectedly, as (I quote her own words) ‘she had never flattered
herself that any one in Hanover had so much as thought about her’.
That they should have done so, she could only ascribe to the
will of God and the goodness of your Electoral Highness, and she
hoped that you would not find yourself deceived in the favourable
opinion you had formed of her from what others had told you. This
much, at least, she would admit, that she would infinitely prefer
an alliance with your Electoral House to any other; and she
considered it particular good fortune to be able to form fresh
and congenial ties to compensate for the loss she had suffered
by the death of the high-souled Queen of Prussia, and of her own
step-brother. In the meantime, as she was absolutely dependent
on her brother, the present Margrave, she could not formally
give her consent to my proposal until she had spoken with him on
the subject. But she did not doubt that he would consider your
Electoral Highness’s request in a favourable light, and would
willingly give his consent in all things as she wished.
“Having expressed my profound thanks to her Highness for her
favourable reception of my proposal, I then strongly urged upon her
the most absolute secrecy, especially with regard to the too early
announcement of this betrothal to the Court of Berlin. Her Highness
at once declared that this was the very request she herself had
been on the point of making to me, as the King of Prussia took
upon himself to such an extent to command her to do this, that
and the other, that her brother and she were obliged to be very
circumspect, and to be careful of everything they said and did. Her
brother, the Margrave, would most certainly be discreet, and the
Princess was glad that Privy Councillor von Breidow was even now
going to Berlin to represent the Court of Ansbach at the funeral
of the late Queen.[14] Her Highness also undertook to inquire of
her brother what settlements she should ask for, and who should be
entrusted with the drawing up of the marriage contract, at the same
time remarking that she had complete trust in Councillor von Voit,
who, although he had originally advised her to accept the proposal
of the King of Spain, yet, when she could not make up her mind to
change her religion, had not turned against her, and was still her
friend, and deeply attached to her brother. In conclusion, her
Highness said that it would be best for me to retain the name of
Steding for the present, and to come to Court in that name whenever
I wished to drive out with her. Thereupon, so as not to create
remark by too long an interview, and also to be able to expedite
this despatch, I returned to my lodging at once. Tomorrow I shall
repair to Court again and learn what his Highness the Margrave has
to say, whereupon I shall not fail to send my report.”
_Privy Councillor von Eltz to the Elector of Hanover._
“ANSBACH, _June 25th, 1705_.
“As the Princess of Ansbach promised, and as I mentioned in my
despatch of the day before yesterday, her Highness made known
my mission to her brother, the Margrave, the same evening, and
received his consent, which he gave with great pleasure. They
thereupon sent a joint message by an express courier to the
Landgrave of Hesse-Darmstadt begging him to be good enough to
repair hither without delay; the Princess asked the Landgrave to
come in order that he might be an adviser to her and her brother,
and help to determine the question of her appanage and her
settlements. These will probably be easily settled. There is not
likely to be any difference between the Princess and her brother on
the question of settlements, except that he wishes to give up to
her everything left to her by the will of the deceased Margrave,
and she declines to accept so much from him.
“Meanwhile, though my credentials have not yet arrived, acting on
the Princess’s advice, I had a special audience with the Margrave,
and thanked him for his favourable reply, urging at the same time
despatch in the matter. Further, I asked that Councillor Voit
might act as one of the trustees. To all these requests he replied
most politely, and assured me that he considered your Electoral
Highness’s request as an honour to his House and a piece of good
fortune to his family, and he was deeply obliged to your Electoral
Highness for it, and would endeavour at all times to show your
Electoral Highness devotion and respect.
“Court Councillor Serverit, who is here, and who was private
secretary to the late Margrave, and is still intimate with the
Princess, received a letter yesterday from Court Councillor Metsch,
wherein he says he has been summoned by both the Emperor and
the Elector Palatine, who have commissioned him to make a final
representation on behalf of the King of Spain, and he therefore
must earnestly request Court Councillor Serverit to repair to some
place, such as Nuremberg, where he could meet and confer with him.
But her Highness, the Princess, ordered Court Councillor Serverit
to reply by special courier to Court Councillor Metsch that it was
not worth his trouble to journey to Nuremberg or anywhere else, as
she held firmly to the resolution she had already formed, all the
more as the matter was no longer _res integra_. Thus your Electoral
Highness has chosen the right moment to send me here, not only on
account of this message, but also because of the absence of Privy
Councillor von Breidow; and if only the courier will bring me
the necessary instructions and authorisation from your Electoral
Highness with regard to the marriage contract, as everything is in
readiness, the matter can be settled at once. I also hope that the
Princess will not long delay her departure from Ansbach, and will
not break her journey to Hanover anywhere but at Eisenach. It is
true she told Councillor Voit, when at my suggestion he mentioned
to her that I was pressed for time, that she had no coaches or
appanage ready, and the Councillor also gave me to understand that
the Margrave would need time to make proper arrangements for the
journey. But I, on the other hand, pointed out that your Electoral
Highness cared for none of these things, and needed nothing else
but to see the Princess in person, and hoped as soon as possible
to receive her. Whereupon the Councillor assured me that her
Highness would not take it amiss if I pressed the matter somewhat
urgently, and that he would do all in his power to help me. I now
only await the courier.... I have so much good to tell concerning
the Princess’s merits, beauty, understanding and manner that your
Electoral Highness will take a real and sincere pleasure in hearing
it.”[15]
The courier from Hanover duly arrived at Ansbach bringing the
Elector’s warrant, which gave Eltz full powers to arrange the marriage
contract and settle the matter of the impending alliance between
“our well-beloved son, George Augustus, Duke and Electoral Prince
of Brunswick-Lüneburg, and our well-beloved Princess Wilhelmina
Caroline, Princess of Brandenburg in Prussia, of Magdeburg, Stettin and
Pomerania, of Casuben and Wenden, also Duchess of Crossen in Silesia,
Electress of Nuremberg, Princess of Halberstadt, Minden and Cannin, and
Countess of Hohenzollern, etc., etc.,” as Caroline was grandiloquently
described. Her long string of titles contrasted with her lack of dowry,
for she brought to her future consort nothing but her beauty and her
talents, which, however, were more than enough.
[Illustration: QUEEN CAROLINE’S ROOM IN THE CASTLE OF ANSBACH.]
The preliminaries being settled, Count Platen was told by the Elector,
who was still at Pyrmont, to acquaint the Electress Dowager with what
had been done. The Electress expressed her surprise that “the whole
matter had been kept secret from her,” but she was so overjoyed at
the realisation of her hopes that she waived her resentment at the
lack of courtesy with which she had been treated.[16] As the “Heiress
of Great Britain” the marriage of her grandson, who was in the direct
line of succession to the English throne, was a matter in which she had
certainly a right to be consulted. But as it all turned out exactly as
she would have wished, she put aside her chagrin and prepared to give
the bride a hearty welcome.
The betrothal soon became an open secret, and the Duke of Celle, George
Augustus’s maternal grandfather, was formally acquainted with the good
news, and came to Hanover to offer his congratulations. Poley adds the
following significant note: “During the Duke of Celle’s being here,
the Duchess of Celle goes to stay with her daughter, and probably
to acquaint her with her son’s marriage”.[17] This daughter was the
unfortunate wife of the Elector, Sophie Dorothea, the family skeleton
of the House of Hanover, whom her husband had put away and kept a
prisoner at Ahlden. This was the only notification of the marriage made
to her, and she was not allowed to send a letter to her son or to his
future wife.
A few days later the good news was publicly proclaimed. Poley writes:
“On Sunday, the 26th, just before dinner, the Elector declared that
there was concluded a treaty of marriage between his son the Electoral
Prince and the Princess of Ansbach, and the Prince received the
compliments of the court upon it, and at dinner there were many healths
drunk to his good success. So that the mystery is now at an end which
hath hitherto been concealed with so much care.... The Prince’s clothes
are now making, and the comedians have an order to be in readiness
to act their best plays, of which they have already given in a list,
though it is thought the mourning for the Emperor may delay the wedding
some weeks longer if the Prince’s impatience does not make him willing
to hasten it. The Electress told me on Sunday night that the Elector
had left the Prince entirely to his own choice, and the Electress
herself hath a very great kindness for her, and since her last visit
to Berlin, the Princess of Ansbach hath been always talked of at this
court as the most agreeable Princess in Germany.”[18]
After this there was no long delay, and everything was done to hasten
forward the marriage. The Princess of Ansbach only asked for time to
make necessary preparations for departure, and agreed to waive all
unnecessary ceremony. At Hanover it was settled that the Electoral
Prince and Princess should have the apartments in the Leine Schloss
formerly occupied by Sophie Dorothea of Celle when Electoral Princess,
and the same household and establishment allotted to them--“nothing
very great,” remarks Poley.
The air was full of wedding preparations when the rejoicing was
suddenly marred by the death of the aged Duke of Celle, who died
of a chill caught hunting. The Princess of Ansbach, accompanied by
her brother, the Margrave, had actually started on her journey to
Hanover when the news of this untoward event reached her, and the
Electoral Prince had gone to meet her half-way. As all arrangements
were completed for the wedding, and delays were dangerous owing to the
jealousy of the Courts of Vienna and Berlin, it was decided to suspend
the mourning for the Duke of Celle for a few days, and to celebrate the
marriage on the arrival of the bride.
George Augustus and Caroline were married quietly on September 2nd,
1705, in the chapel of the palace of Hanover. The only account of the
marriage is to be found in Poley’s despatch: “The Princess of Ansbach
and the Margrave, her brother, arrived here, and were received with
all the expressions of kindness and respect that could be desired.
The marriage was solemnised the same evening after her coming, and
yesterday there was a ball, and in the evening there will be a comedy
for her entertainment, and there are the greatest appearances of
entire satisfaction on all sides. The Court left off their mourning,
and has appeared these three days in all the finery which the occasion
requires, and the Marquess of Hertford, Mr. Newport, Mr. Onslow,
Mr. Austin, and some other English gentlemen, who are come hither
to have their share of the diversions, have made no small part of
the show.”[19] Thus early did Caroline make the acquaintance of
representatives of the English nation over which, with her husband, she
was one day to reign.
FOOTNOTES TO BOOK I, CHAPTER III:
[9] Leibniz to the Princess Caroline of Ansbach, Hanover, 18th March,
1705.
[10] Letter of Princess Caroline to Leibniz, Ansbach, 2nd April, 1705.
[11] Gay, in his _Epistle to a Lady_, also alludes to this incident:--
“The pomp of titles easy faith might shake,
She scorned an empire, for religion’s sake”
[12] Poley’s Despatch, Hanover, 9th June, 1705.
[13] Poley’s Despatch, Hanover, 19th June, 1705.
[14] The Queen of Prussia was not buried until six months after her
death, and her funeral, as she had anticipated, was conducted on a
scale of great magnificence. Von Breidow was an Ansbach official in the
pay of Prussia.
[15] These documents (in German) are preserved in the Royal Archives at
Hanover. They have never before been published.
[16] An account of this interview is given in a letter from the Count
von Platen to the Elector of Hanover; Hanover, 9th July, 1705 (Hanover
Archives.)
[17] Poley’s Despatch, Hanover, 21st July, 1705.
[18] Poley’s Despatch, Hanover, 28th July, 1705.
[19] Poley’s Despatch, 4th September, 1705.
CHAPTER IV.
THE COURT OF HANOVER.
1705–1706.
The Court of Hanover at the time of Caroline’s marriage was one of
the principal courts of North Germany, not equal in importance to
that of Berlin, or in splendour to that of Dresden, but second to no
others. During the reign of the first Elector, Ernest Augustus, and
his consort, the Electress Sophia, Hanover had gained materially in
power and importance. The town became the resort of wealthy nobles,
who had before divided their attentions between Hamburg and Brunswick.
Handsome public buildings and new houses sprang up on every side, and
outside the walls, especially towards Herrenhausen, the borders of the
city were extending. Few of the houses were large, for the wealthy
Hanoverian nobility resided for the most part at their castles in the
country, and only came to the capital now and then for the carnival
or the opera, which was one of the best in Germany, or to pay their
respects to the Elector.
The Hanover of that day, after the model of German mediæval cities,
was a town with walls and gates. The old town within the walls was
composed of rough narrow streets, and timbered, gabled houses with
high sloping roofs. Some of these old houses, such as Leibnizhaus, a
sandstone building of the seventeenth century, still remain, and so do
the old brick Markt Kirche, the Rathhaus, and other quaint buildings
characteristic of mediæval Germany; they make it easy to conjure up the
everyday life of the old Hanoverian burghers.
Caroline found that Hanover was a more important place than Ansbach,
and everything was on a larger scale. For instance, it possessed three
palaces instead of one, the small Alte Palais, since Sophie Dorothea’s
disgrace seldom used, the Leine Schloss, a huge barrack of a palace on
the banks of the Leine, and last, but not least, Herrenhausen, about
two miles without the walls, approached by a magnificent double avenue
of limes. The grounds of Herrenhausen were designed in imitation of
Versailles, and, though the palace itself was plain and unpretending,
the beauty of the place consisted in its great park, full of
magnificent limes, elms, chestnuts and maples, and in its garden, one
hundred and twenty acres in extent, laid out in the old French style
with terraces, statues and fountains, and fenced about with maze-like
hedges of clipped hornbeam. The Electress Sophia loved Herrenhausen
greatly, though since her widowhood she had been relegated to one
wing of it by her son the Elector. He would not permit her any share
in the government of the electorate, and she had therefore ample time
to devote herself to her philosophic studies. But she also employed
her active mind in looking after her English affairs, in which she
was deeply interested. The fact that she was in the direct line of
the English succession attracted to Herrenhausen many English people
of note, and it became a rallying-point of those who favoured the
Hanoverian succession.
The Electress Sophia was the widow of Ernest Augustus, first Elector
of Hanover. She was a great princess in every sense of the word, and
with her husband had raised Hanover from a petty dukedom to the rank
of an electorate. She was the granddaughter of King James the First
of England; the daughter of the Princess Elizabeth of England, Queen
of Bohemia; the sister of Prince Rupert, who had fought for the royal
cause throughout the great rebellion; the niece of Charles the First,
and first cousin to Charles the Second and to James the Second, the
old King who had lately died in exile at St. Germains.[20] By Act of
Parliament the succession to the throne of England was vested in the
Electress Sophia and the heirs male of her body _being Protestant_,
and according to this Act the only life between her and the British
crown was that of the reigning Queen, Anne, who was childless and in
bad health. Sophia was inordinately proud of her English ancestry,
and though she had never been in England, or had seen any of her
English relatives since Charles the Second mounted the throne of his
ancestors, she was much more English than German in her habits, tastes
and inclinations. She had unbounded admiration for “her country,” as
she called it, and its people; she spoke the language perfectly, and
kept herself well acquainted with events in England. She even tried to
understand the English Constitution, though here, it must be admitted,
she was sometimes at fault. She had her mother’s soaring ambition: “I
care not when I die,” said she, “if on my tomb it be written that I
was Queen of England”. In her immediate circle she loved to be called
“the Princess of Wales,” though, of course, she had no right to the
title, and she frequently spoke of herself by the designation which was
afterwards inscribed upon her tomb, “The heiress of Great Britain”.
When Caroline came to Hanover, this wonderful old princess, though
over seventy years of age, was in full possession of her physical and
mental faculties. Her step was firm, her bearing erect, and there was
scarcely a wrinkle on her face, or a tooth out of her head. She read
and corresponded widely, and spoke and wrote in five languages, each
one perfectly. Notwithstanding her many sorrows (she had lost four
sons and her dearly-loved daughter), vexations and deprivations, she
maintained a cheerful and lively disposition, largely due to a perfect
digestion, which even a course of solid German dinners--for she was a
hearty eater and drinker--could not upset. One of her rules was never
to eat nor walk alone, and she imputed her sound health largely to her
love of company and outdoor exercise. Like her illustrious descendant,
Queen Victoria, she never passed a day without spending many hours in
the open air; she sometimes drove, but more often walked for two or
three hours in the gardens of Herrenhausen, pacing up and down the
interminable paths, and talking the whole time in French or English to
her companions. In this way she gave audience to many Englishmen of
note, from the great Marlborough downwards, and it is on record that
she tired out many of them.
Her eldest son, George Louis (later George the First of England),
who succeeded his father, Ernest Augustus, as Elector of Hanover in
1698, was in all respects different to his mother, who had inherited
many characteristics of the Stuarts. He in no wise resembled them; he
seemed to have harked back to some remote German ancestor, for, while
his father, Ernest Augustus, was a handsome, genial, pleasure-loving
prince, with a courtly air, and a genius for intrigue, the Elector
George was ungraceful in person and gesture, reserved and uncouth
in speech, and coarse and unrefined in taste. He was profligate,
and penurious even in his profligacy. Unlike his mother, he had no
learning, and unlike his father, he had no manners. On the other hand
he was straightforward; he never told a lie, at least an unnecessary
one; he had a horror of intrigue and double-dealing, and he had great
personal courage, as he had proved on many a hard-fought field. His
enemies said that he was absolutely devoid of human affection, but
he had a sincere liking for his sister, Sophie Charlotte, Queen of
Prussia, and a good deal of affection for his daughter, and what proved
to be a lasting regard for his unlovely mistress, Ermengarda Melusina
Schulemburg. The care he took that his son should make a love match
also shows him to have possessed some heart. But few found this out;
most were repelled by his harsh manner.
The Electress Sophia was not happy in her children; “none of them
ever showed the respect they ought to have done,” writes her niece,
Elizabeth Charlotte, Duchess of Orleans. Of all her seven children,
only three were now living: George the Elector, who disliked her;
Maximilian, a Jacobite and Roman Catholic, in exile and open rebellion
against his brother; and Ernest Augustus, the youngest of them all. Of
her grandson, George Augustus, we have already spoken, and he, too,
frequently treated her with disrespect. There remained his sister, the
Princess Sophie Dorothea, a young princess of beauty and promise, whose
matrimonial prospects were engaging the attention of the old Electress.
Such was the electoral family of Hanover which Caroline had now joined.
There was one other member of it, poor Sophie Dorothea of Celle,
consort of the Elector, but she was thrust out of sight, divorced,
disgraced, imprisoned, and now entering on the eleventh year of her
dreary captivity in the castle of Ahlden, some twenty miles from
Hanover. Caroline had doubtless heard of the black business in the old
Leine Schloss that July night, 1694, when Königsmarck mysteriously
disappeared coming from the Princess’s chamber, for the scandal had
been discussed in every court in Europe. But there is nothing to show
that she expressed any opinion on the guilt or innocence of her unhappy
mother-in-law, whether she took her husband’s view, who regarded his
mother as the victim of the Elector’s tyranny, or the view of the
Electress Sophia, who could find no words bad enough to condemn her.
Caroline was much too discreet to stir the embers of that old family
feud, or to mention a name which was not so much as whispered at
Herrenhausen. But one thing may be noted in her favour; she showed
many courtesies to the imprisoned Princess’s mother, the aged Duchess
of Celle, who, since her husband’s death, had been forced to quit the
castle of Celle, and now lived in retirement at Wienhausen. The favour
of George Augustus and Caroline protected the Duchess of Celle from
open insult, but history is silent as to whether the Duchess attempted
to act as a means of communication between them and her imprisoned
daughter.
Caroline’s bright and refined presence was sorely needed at the
Hanoverian Court, which had changed for the worse since George had
assumed the electoral diadem. Under the rule of the pleasure-loving
Ernest Augustus and his cheerful spouse Sophia, their court had been
one of the gayest in Germany, and splendid out of proportion to the
importance of the electorate. The Elector George kept his court too;
he maintained the opera and dined in public, after the manner of Louis
the Fourteenth, but he was as penurious as Ernest Augustus had been
extravagant, and he cut down every unnecessary penny. The Duchess of
Orleans, who cordially disliked all the Hanoverian family except her
aunt, the Electress Sophia, writes about this time: “It is not to be
wondered at that the gaiety that used to be at Hanover has departed;
the Elector is so cold that he turns everything into ice--his father
and uncle were not like him”.
This was a prejudiced view, for the Court of Hanover was still gay,
though its gaiety had lost in wit and gained in coarseness since the
accession of the Elector George. A sample of its pleasures is afforded
in the following description, written by Leibniz, of a _fête_ given at
Hanover a year or two before Caroline’s marriage.[21] The entertainment
was modelled on Trimalchio’s banquet, and suggests a parallel with the
grossest pleasures of Nero and imperial Rome. Leibniz writes:--
“A _fête_ was given at this Court recently and represented the famous
banquet described by Petronius.[22] The part of our modern Trimalchio
was played by the Raugrave, and that of his wife, Fortunata, by
Fräulein von Pöllnitz, who managed everything as did Fortunata of
old in the house of her Trimalchio. Couches were arranged round the
table for the guests. The trophies displayed of Trimalchio’s arms were
composed of empty bottles, and there were very many devices, recording
his fine qualities, especially his courage and wit. As the guests
entered the banqueting hall, a slave called out, ‘Advance in order,’
as in ancient time, and they took their places on the couches set
apart for them. Eumolpus (Mauro) recited verses in praise of the great
Trimalchio, who presently arrived carried on a litter, and preceded by
a chorus of singers and musicians, including huntsmen blowing horns,
drummers and slaves, all making a great noise. As the procession
advanced, Trimalchio’s praises were sung after the following fashion:--
À la cour comme à l’armée
On connait sa renommée;
Il ne craint point les bâtards,
Ni de Bacchus ni de Mars.
“After the procession had made several turns round the hall, Trimalchio
was placed on his couch, and began to eat and drink, cordially inviting
his guests to follow his example. His chief carver was called Monsieur
Coupé, so that by calling out ‘Coupé’ he could name him, and at the
same time command him to carve, like the carver Carpus in Petronius, to
whom his master called _Carpe_, which means much the same as _coupez_.
In imitation, too, a pea-hen was brought in sitting on her nest full
of eggs, which Trimalchio first declared were half-hatched, but on
examination proved to contain delicious ortolans. Little children
carried in pies, and birds flew out from them, and were caught again
by the fowlers. An ass was led in bearing a load of olives. Several
other extraordinary dishes enlivened the banquet and surprised the
spectators; everything was copied strictly from the Roman original.
There was even a charger, with viands representing the twelve signs
of the Zodiac, and Trimalchio gave utterance to some very amusing
astrology. Fortunata had to be called several times before she would
sit down to table--everything depended on her. Trimalchio being in
an erudite mood, had the catalogue of his burlesque library brought
to him, and, as the names of the books were read out, he quoted the
finest passages, and criticised them. The only wine was Falerno, and
Trimalchio, who naturally preferred Hungarian to any other, controlled
himself out of respect to his guests. It is true, as regards his
personal necessities, he put no constraint upon himself.... Finally,
after moralising on happiness and the vanity of things in general, he
sent for his will and read it aloud; in it he left orders how he was to
be buried, and what monument was to be erected to his memory. He also
announced what legacies he would leave, some of them very funny, and
he freed his slaves, who during the reading of the will were grimacing
and howling in lamentable fashion. During the banquet he granted full
liberty to Bacchus, pretending to be proud of having even the gods in
his power. Some of the slaves donned caps, the sign of liberty. When
their master drank these same slaves imitated the noise of the cannon,
or rather of Jove’s thunder....
“But in the midst of these festivities the Goddess of Discord cast down
her apple. A quarrel forthwith arose between Trimalchio and Fortunata,
whereupon he threw a goblet at her head, and there ensued a battle
royal. At last peace was restored, and everything ended harmoniously.
The procession, with the singers, dancers, horns, drums and other
instruments of music, closed the banquet as it had been opened. And to
say nothing of Fortunata, Trimalchio certainly surpassed himself.”
The fact that such a revel as this could take place under princely
patronage shows the grossness of the age in general and Hanover in
particular. But a good deal of the coarseness at the Hanoverian
Court was due to the fact that it was, at this time, reigned over by
mistresses who had not the saving grace of refinement. The Electress
Sophia was old, and her taste for court entertainments had dulled,
and even if it had not, the Elector was too jealous to permit her to
take the lead. His daughter, Sophie Dorothea, was too young to have any
influence. The advent of the Electoral Princess supplied the elements
that were lacking, beauty and grace, and a sense of personal dignity
and virtue.
[Illustration: GEORGE II. AND QUEEN CAROLINE AT THE TIME OF THEIR
MARRIAGE.]
Caroline was in every way fitted to queen it over a much larger court
than Hanover. Like her adopted mother, the Queen of Prussia, Caroline’s
intellect was lofty, and she scorned as “paltry” many of the things
in which the princesses of her time were most interested. The minutiæ
of court etiquette, scandal, dress, needlework and display did not
appeal to her; some of these things were all very well as means to an
end, but with Caroline emphatically they were not the end. Her natural
inclination was all towards serious things; politics and the love of
power were with her a passion. She had little opportunity of indulging
her taste in this respect at Hanover, for the Elector gave no woman
a chance of meddling in politics at his court, and her husband, the
Electoral Prince, professed to be of the same mind. So Caroline had for
years to conceal the qualities which later made her a stateswoman, and
the consummate skill with which she did so proved her to be an actress
and diplomatist of no mean order. She had more liberty to follow her
literary and philosophical bent, for both the Elector and his son hated
books, were indifferent to religion, and treated philosophers and their
theories with open contempt; these questions were all very well
for women and bookmen, but they could not be expected to occupy their
lofty minds with such trifles. Caroline, therefore, and the Electress
Sophia, who was even more learned than her daughter-in-law, were able
to indulge their tastes in this respect with comparative freedom, and
they enjoyed many hours discussing philosophy with Leibniz or arguing
on religious questions with learned divines. They kept themselves well
abreast of the intellectual thought of the time, and even tried in
some small way to hold reunions at Herrenhausen, after the model of
those at Charlottenburg, but in this Caroline had to exercise a good
deal of discretion, for her husband, like the Elector, though grossly
illiterate, was jealous lest his wife’s learning should seem to be
superior to his own. Much of Caroline’s reading had to be done in
secret, and the discussions in which she delighted were carried on in
the privacy of the Electress Sophia’s apartments.
Within the first few years of her marriage Caroline found that she had
need of all her philosophy, natural or acquired, whether derived from
Leibniz or inherent in herself, to accommodate herself to the whims
and humours of her fantastic little husband. She quickly discovered
the faults and foibles of his character, she was soon made aware of
his meanness, his shallowness and his petty vanity, of his absurd love
of boasting, his fitful and choleric temper, and his incontinence.
George Augustus had inherited the bad qualities of both his parents,
and the good qualities of neither, for he had not his father’s
straightforwardness, nor his mother’s generous impulses. He was a
contemptible character, but his wife never manifested any contempt
for him; her conduct indeed was a model of all that a wife’s should
be--from the man’s point of view. The little prince would rail at her,
contradict her, snub her, dash his wig on the ground, strut up and
down the room, red and angry, shouting at the top of his voice, but,
unlike her mother-in-law, Sophie Dorothea, Caroline never answered
her husband; she was always submissive, always dutiful, always the
patient Griselda. The result justified her wisdom. George Augustus
became genuinely attached to his wife, and she preserved his affection
and kept her influence over him. Shortly after her marriage she was
attacked by small-pox; it did not seriously impair her beauty, but for
many days her life was in danger. Her husband was beside himself with
anxiety; he never left her chamber day or night, and caught the disease
from her, thus risking his life for hers. Caroline never forgot this
proof of his devotion. She was shrewd enough to see from the beginning,
what so many wives in equal or less exalted positions fail to see, that
her interests and her husband’s interests were identical, and that
as he prospered she would prosper with him, and, on the other hand,
everything which hurt him or his prospects would react on her too. She
realised that she could only reach worldly greatness through him, and
ambition coloured all her life. The rôle of the injured wife would do
her no good, either in her husband’s eyes or in those of the world, so
she never played the part, though in all truth he early gave her cause
enough. Her life was witness of the love she bore him, a love that was
quite unaccountable. From the first moment of her married life to the
last, she was absolutely devoted to him; his friends were her friends
and his enemies her enemies.
Caroline was soon called upon to take sides in the quarrel between the
Electoral Prince and the Elector, which as the years went by became
intensified in bitterness. As to the origin of this unnatural feud
it is impossible to speak with certainty; some have found it in the
elder George’s cruel treatment of his wife, Sophie Dorothea, which
the son was said to have strongly resented. This may be partly true,
for though the young Prince was only a boy when his mother was first
imprisoned, he was old enough to have loved her, and he had sufficient
understanding to sympathise with her wrongs, as her daughter did.
Besides, he often visited his maternal grandparents at Celle, and
though the old Duke was neutral, the Duchess warmly espoused her
daughter’s cause, and hated George Louis and his mother, Sophia, who
were her worst enemies. She may have instilled some of these sentiments
into her grandson, for his treatment of his grandmother, the Electress
Sophia, left much to be desired, though she was devoted to him, and
always ready to plot with him against his father. All these currents
of emotion, and cross-currents of jealousy and hatred were in full
flood at the Hanoverian Court when Caroline arrived there, and she must
have found it exceedingly difficult to steer a straight course among
them. She at once decided to throw in her lot with her husband, and
to make his cause hers. She soon, therefore, came to be viewed with
disfavour by her father-in-law.
In all matters, except those which militated against her husband’s
interests, Caroline endeavoured to please the Elector. George openly
maintained three mistresses, and he expected that the Electoral
Princess should receive them and treat them with courtesy. Caroline
raised no difficulties on this score, and made the best of the peculiar
circumstances she found around her. The subject is not a pleasant one,
but it is impossible to give a true picture of the Hanoverian Court and
ignore the existence of these women, for they influenced considerably
the trend of affairs, and occupied positions only second to the
princesses of the electoral family.
Of the Elector’s favourites, Ermengarda Melusina Schulemburg was the
oldest, and the most accredited. She was descended from the elder
branch of the ancient but impoverished house of Schulemburg; her
father had held high office in the Court of Berlin, her brother found
a similar place in the service of the Venetian Republic. Melusina
having no dower and no great charm, except her youth, made her way to
Hanover about 1690, in the hope of improving her fortunes, honourably
or dishonourably as chance offered. Melusina attracted the attention
of George Louis, Prince of Hanover, as he was then called. He made her
an allowance, and procured for her a post at court as maid of honour
(save the mark) to his mother, the Electress Sophia. Schulemburg’s
appearance was the signal for furious quarrels between George Louis
and his unhappy consort, who, though she detested her husband, was
jealous of his amours. But her protests were useless, and only served
to irritate the situation. After Sophie Dorothea’s divorce, Schulemburg
lived with George Louis to all intents and purposes as his wife, and
when he succeeded to the electorate, her position became the more
influential. It was not easy to understand how she maintained her sway;
it was certainly not by her person. She was very tall, and in her youth
had some good looks of the passive German type, but as the years went
by she lost the few pretexts to beauty that she possessed. Her figure
became extremely thin, in consequence of small-pox she lost all her
hair, and was not only marked on the face but wore an ugly wig. She
sought to mend these defects by painting and ruddling her face, which
only made them worse; her taste in dress was atrocious. Schulemburg was
a stupid woman, with a narrow range of vision, and her dominant passion
was avarice; but she was undoubtedly attached to her protector, and
remained faithful to him--not that any one ever tempted her fidelity.
She had an equable temper, and she was no mischief maker. Lady Mary
Wortley Montagu says of her: “She was so much of his (George’s) own
temper that I do not wonder at the engagement between them. She was
duller than himself, and consequently did not find out that he was so.”
As the years went by Schulemburg’s ascendency was threatened by another
and even less attractive lady, Kielmansegge, _née_ Platen, whom the
Elector had elevated to a similar position. Her mother, the Countess
Platen, wife of the Prime Minister, had been for years mistress of
his father, Ernest Augustus. She had destined her daughter for a
similar position, but at first it seemed that her plans were foiled
by the young countess contracting a passion for the son of a Hamburg
merchant named Kielmansegge, whom she married under circumstances that
gave rise to scandal. After her mother’s death she separated from
her husband, returned to Hanover, and gave herself up to pleasure.
She was exceedingly extravagant in her personal tastes, and soon
squandered the sum of £40,000 left her by her mother. She was of a
sociable disposition, and having many admirers was not disposed to
be unkind to any. George Augustus, who hated her, declared that she
intrigued with every man in Hanover, and this being reported to her,
she sought an audience of the Electoral Princess, and denied the
imputation, producing, as a proof of her virtue, a certificate of
moral character signed by her husband, whom she had now deserted.
Caroline laughed, and told her “it was indeed a bad reputation which
rendered such a certificate necessary”. Kielmansegge was clever, and
a good conversationalist, and she maintained her somewhat precarious
hold over the Elector by amusing him. She had more wit and cunning
than Schulemburg, but her morals were worse, and her appearance was
equally unattractive, though in another way. Her wig was black, whereas
Schulemburg’s was red, and she was of enormous and unwieldy bulk,
whereas Schulemburg was lean to emaciation. Schulemburg had to heighten
her charms by rouge; Kielmansegge, on the other hand, was naturally so
highly coloured that she sought to tone down her complexion by copious
dressings of powder; the effect in either case was equally unlovely.
The Electress Sophia mocked at them both, and had nicknames for them
both; Schulemburg she called “The tall malkin,” and used to ask the
courtiers what her son could see in her. Kielmansegge she dubbed “The
fat hen”.
There remained yet another of these ladies--the beautiful Countess
Platen, a sister-in-law of Madame Kielmansegge, and wife of Count
Platen the younger. The family of Platen seem to have formed a sort
of hereditary hierarchy of shame. When the young countess first
appeared at court after her marriage, in the height of her beauty,
the Elector took little notice of her. And as the Elector’s favour
was counted a great honour among the Hanoverian ladies, Countess
Platen was deeply mortified at this ignoring of her charms. She
determined on a bold stroke of policy--she sought an audience of
his Highness, and with tears in her eyes besought him not to treat
her so rudely. The astonished Elector declared that he was ignorant
of having done anything of the kind, and added gallantly that she
was the most beautiful woman at his court. “If that be true, sir,”
replied the countess, weeping, “why do you pass all your time with
Schulemburg, while I hardly receive the honour of a glance from you?”
The gallant George promised to mend his manners, and soon came to
visit her so frequently that her husband, objecting to the intimacy,
separated from her, and left her wholly to the Elector. The Countess
Platen was the best loved of all the Elector’s favourites, but, like
Kielmansegge, she was not faithful to him. Among the Englishmen who
came to Hanover about this time was the younger Craggs, son of James
Craggs, a Whig place-hunter of the baser sort. According to Lady Mary
Wortley Montagu, the elder Craggs had been at one time footman to the
Duchess of Norfolk, and was employed by her in an intrigue she had with
King James the Second. He acquitted himself with so much secrecy and
discretion that the duchess recommended him to the Duke of Marlborough,
who employed him for purposes of political and other intrigues. Thus,
by trading on the secrets of the great and wealthy, Craggs at length
acquired a fortune and entered parliament. His son James Craggs was
an exceeding strong, good-looking youth, with great assurance and easy
manners, though Lady Mary declares that “there was a coarseness in his
face and shape that had more the air of a porter than a gentleman”. But
coarseness was no drawback at the Court of Hanover, and the Countess
Platen soon became enamoured of the well-favoured young Englishman, and
introduced him to the notice of the Elector, who, ignorant or careless
of the intrigue, showed him a good deal of favour, and promised him
a good appointment if ever he became King of England. George amply
redeemed this promise later, and young Craggs was one of the few
Englishmen admitted to his private circle.
Since the passing of the Act of Succession in 1700 under King William,
and Lord Macclesfield’s mission to Hanover in 1701, when he presented
a copy of the Act to the Electress Sophia, and since the recognition
by Anne of the _status quo_ on her accession in 1702, the English
prospects of the electoral family had sensibly improved, and the
Hanoverian succession had quitted the region of abstract theories to
enter the realm of practical politics. The time-servers in England
showed their sensible appreciation of this by turning their attention
from St. Germains to Hanover. Marlborough, the arch time-server of them
all, was at Hanover at the end of 1704, and Prince Ernest Augustus,
the youngest son of the Electress Sophia, had fought under him in one
of his campaigns. Marlborough was said at one time to have entertained
the project of marrying his third daughter to the Electoral Prince as
a return for his powerful aid to the electoral family, but the scheme
fell through, if it were ever seriously considered. It might have
been, for Marlborough’s support was very valuable. Party feeling ran
very high in England, and there was a strong Jacobite faction which
heavily discounted the prospects of the Hanoverian succession. At the
beginning of her reign, Anne, apprehensive that the Jacobites might
become too powerful and shake her position on the throne, to which her
title was none too sure, leant, or appeared to lean, in the direction
of Hanover. The question was complicated, too, by the fact that the
Scottish Parliament had rejected the Bill for the Hanoverian succession
with every mark of contempt, and had passed a measure which seemed to
settle the succession of the Scottish crown upon the Duke of Hamilton.
At least, it excluded the House of Hanover as aliens, and for a time
there was the anomaly that though the Electress Sophia might have
succeeded to the throne of England, she could not have worn the crown
of Scotland, and the kingdoms would again have become divided. It
was largely to end these complications that the Act of Union between
England and Scotland was brought forward, and one of its most important
clauses was that the succession of the crown of Scotland, like that
of England, should be vested in the Electress Sophia, and her heirs,
being Protestant, a clause which was hotly debated. An Act was also
passed to naturalise the electoral family.
Elated by these successes, the next move of the Whigs was to suggest to
the Electress Sophia that she should come over to England on a visit,
in order that the people might see “the heiress of Great Britain,” and
so strengthen their affection to her person. If she could not come,
they suggested that her son or her grandson should take her place. The
Electress Sophia would gladly have visited England with the Electoral
Prince and the Electoral Princess, but she was far too shrewd to
make the journey at the bidding of a faction, and, while expressing
her willingness, she stipulated that the invitation must come from
the Queen herself. That invitation was never given, for Anne had a
positive horror of seeing her Hanoverian successors in England during
her lifetime. She declared that their presence would be like exposing
her coffin to her view before she was dead. The electoral family were
very well to use as pawns to check the moves of the Jacobites, but to
see them in London would be more unpleasant to her than the arrival
of James himself. The Whigs, despite the Queen’s opposition, were
determined to bring them over if possible, and they talked of giving
the old Electress, should she come, an escort into London of fifty
thousand men, as a warning to the Queen, whose leanings towards her
brother they suspected, not to play fast and loose with the Protestant
succession. The Whig agent at Hanover was instructed to sound the
Elector, but, to his credit be it said, George would have nothing
whatever to do with the scheme. He hated intrigues of all kinds, and
cared very little about the English succession, except as an influence
to help his beloved electorate. He felt that he could never be sure of
England, and he was too practical to miss the substance for the shadow.
Hanover was certainly a substantial possession. It became the fashion
later in England to deride it as an unimportant electorate, and
George as a petty German prince. But for years before George the
First ascended the throne of England, Hanover had been gradually
increasing in influence, and was a factor to be reckoned with in the
great political issues of western and northern Europe. William of
Orange recognised its importance, Louis the Fourteenth made frequent
overtures to it, and the Emperor sought to conciliate it.[23] By the
death of his uncle, the Duke of Celle, George became the ruler of all
the Brunswick-Lüneburg dominions, and gained considerably in wealth
and influence. He had not his mother’s ambition, and he was loath to
imperil his prosperous and loyal electorate and an assured position
for an insecure title to a throne beset with dangers and difficulties.
He shared with Europe the belief that the English were a fickle
and revolutionary people. Within living memory they had risen in
rebellion, beheaded their king and established a republic. Then they
had forsaken the republic and restored the monarchy. In the following
reign they had had a revolution, driven their king into exile, and
brought over a Dutch prince to reign over them. Undoubtedly they were
not to be trusted, and what they might do in the future no one could
say.
At the time of Caroline’s marriage the English prospects of the
electoral family were bright. Though the visit to England was for
the moment postponed, Anne was compelled to temporise, for the Whigs
carried everything before them. Poley the English envoy was recalled,
and Howe, who was in favour with the Whigs, was sent over to Hanover in
his place. The Electress was given to think that the invitation would
shortly come, and Caroline thought the same. All things English were
in high favour at Hanover at this time. Howe celebrated the Queen’s
birthday by a dance, which was honoured not only by George Augustus and
Caroline, but also by the Electress Sophia. Howe writes:--
“The Queen’s birthday happening to be upon the Wednesday, I thought
it proper to keep it the next day, and accordingly I invited ten or
twelve couples of young people to dance at night. The Electoral Prince
and Princess with the Margrave, her brother, and the young Princess of
Hanover hearing of it, told me the night before that they would come
and dance. Half an hour before the ball began, they brought me word
that the Electress was also coming. The Electress gave the Queen’s
health at supper, and stayed till two o’clock.”[24]
The same year the bells at Hanover rang out to celebrate the wedding
of Princess Sophie Dorothea with her first cousin, Frederick William,
Crown Prince of Prussia. This marriage was one after the Electress
Sophia’s own heart, and it at once gratified her ambition and appealed
to her affections. The young Princess had a good deal of beauty, an
equable temper, and a fair share of the family obstinacy; she had
something of her mother’s charm, but not much of her grandmother’s
commanding intellect. The Electress Sophia had busied herself for some
time with matrimonial schemes on Sophie Dorothea’s behalf. There had
been a project for marrying her to the King of Sweden, but it fell
through, and though it had been known for a long time that Frederick
William loved his pretty Hanoverian cousin, there were obstacles in
the way, notably the opposition of the King of Prussia, who had no
desire to draw the bonds between Prussia and Hanover any closer. He
was angry at having been outwitted in the matter of the Electoral
Prince’s marriage to the Princess of Ansbach. After the Queen of
Prussia’s death, the King busied himself to find a suitable bride for
his son, but Frederick William rejected one matrimonial project after
another, and obstinately declared that he would wed his cousin, Sophie
Dorothea, and none other. Knowing the violence of his temper, and the
impossibility of reasoning with him, his father had to give way, which
he did with the better grace as he was anxious to secure the future of
the dynasty. The marriage was celebrated at Hanover in 1706. The King
of Prussia seized the opportunity to gratify his love of pageantry, and
the festivities were prolonged for many days.
They were graced, too, by the presence of a special embassy from
England, with Lords Halifax and Dorset at its head. Queen Anne had been
compelled by the Whig administration to send them over to Hanover to
present to the Electress Sophia a copy of the recent Act of Parliament
naturalising the electoral family in England. The mission was a very
welcome one to the old Electress, and she gave the English lords a
formal audience at Herrenhausen, when after delivering his credentials
Lord Halifax proceeded to address her in a set speech. In the middle
of the address, the Electress started up from her chair, and backing
to the wall remained fixed against it until the ceremony ended. Lord
Halifax was much mystified by this unusual proceeding, and eventually
discovered that the Electress had in her room a portrait of her cousin,
James, her rival to the throne. She suddenly remembered it was there,
and fearing the Whig lords (Halifax was a noted Whig leader) would
suspect her of Jacobitism if they saw it, she adopted this means of
hiding it. It was the fashion among the Whigs to call James the
“Pretender,” and to pretend to doubt his legitimacy, but the Electress
Sophia knew that he was as truly the son of James the Second as George
was her own, and though she was eager to wear the crown of England, she
would not stoop to such a subterfuge to gain it, preferring to base her
claim on the broader and surer ground of the will of the people, and
the interests of the Protestant religion.
Lord Halifax was accompanied on this mission by Sir John Vanburgh in
his official capacity of Clarenceux King of Arms, who invested the
Electoral Prince with the insignia of the Garter. Another and more
famous Englishman, Joseph Addison, came with Halifax as secretary
to the mission. It was on this occasion Addison first saw Caroline,
his future benefactress, and he expressed himself enthusiastically
concerning her beauty and talents.
The presence of the English mission added in no small degree to the
brilliance of the wedding festivities, which after tedious ceremonial
at last came to an end, and the bride and bridegroom departed for
Berlin. It was not a peaceful domestic outlook for Sophie Dorothea, nor
did it prove so; but she and her husband were sincerely attached to
one another, and despite many violent quarrels and much provocation on
either side, they managed to live together until their union was broken
by death. Seven years after his marriage, by the death of his father,
Frederick William ascended the throne, and Sophie Dorothea became the
second Queen of Prussia. But what will cause her name to be remembered
throughout all generations is that she was the mother of Frederick the
Great.
FOOTNOTES TO BOOK I, CHAPTER IV:
[20] Short genealogical table showing the descent of his Majesty
King Edward VII. from James I., the Electress Sophia and Caroline of
Ansbach:--
James I.
|
Elizabeth, Queen of Bohemia.
|
Sophia, Electress of Hanover.
|
George I.
|
George II. = Caroline of Ansbach.
|
Frederick, Prince of Wales.
|
George III.
|
Duke of Kent.
|
Queen Victoria.
|
Edward VII.
[21] Letter of Leibniz to the Princess of Hohenzollern-Heckingen,
Hanover, 25th February, 1702. Some passages in this letter are omitted
as unfit for publication.
[22] Nero is satirised under the name of Trimalchio by Petronius
Arbiter in the _Satyricon_, and the description of his banquet is gross
in the extreme. A comparison of Petronius’s account of the banquet in
the _Satyricon_ with Leibniz’s description of the _fête_ at Hanover
will show how closely the Electoral Court followed the Roman original.
[23] Dr. A. W. Ward, the greatest English authority on Hanoverian
history, has brought this point out clearly in his _Notes on the
Personal Union between England and Hanover_.
[24] Howe’s Despatch, Hanover, 18th February, 1706.
CHAPTER V.
THE HEIRESS OF GREAT BRITAIN.
1706–1713.
Queen Anne’s invitation to the electoral family still tarried in the
coming. Meanwhile the old Electress, despite her assurances to the
Queen, was listening to the suggestions put forward by the English
Whigs, through their emissaries in Hanover. Her favourite plan was,
that though she herself, as heiress to the throne, could not visit
England without an express invitation from the Queen, yet the Electoral
Prince and Caroline might do so. She seems thus to have prompted
her grandson to court popularity with the English at the expense of
his father. The Elector placed little faith in Queen Anne, who he
considered was merely playing him off against her brother, James.
He had soon an opportunity of showing his displeasure publicly. An
important event took place in the electoral family, which had a direct
bearing upon the English succession; Caroline, on February 5th, 1707,
more than a year after her marriage, gave birth to the much wished-for
son and heir. Howe, the English envoy, writes: “This Court having for
some time past almost despaired of the Princess Electoral being
brought to bed, and most people apprehensive that her bigness, which
has continued for so long, was rather an effect of a distemper than
that she was with child, her Highness was taken ill last Friday at
dinner, and last night, about seven o’clock, the Countess d’Eke, her
lady of the bedchamber, sent me word that the Princess was delivered of
a son.”[25]
Considering that, according to Act of Parliament, the infant now born
was in the direct line of succession to the English crown, it was
extraordinary that the English envoy should not have been present at
the birth, or the event notified to him with proper ceremony; the more
extraordinary when it is remembered that this was an age much given
to inventing fables about the births of princes, and the lie that a
surreptitious child had been introduced into the Queen Mary Beatrice’s
bedchamber in a warming pan was largely relied upon by the Whigs to
upset the Stuart dynasty.
[Illustration: THE ELECTRESS SOPHIA OF HANOVER.]
This was not the only affront which the Elector put upon Queen Anne’s
representative. The infant prince was christened a few days later in
the Princess’s bedchamber, and given the name of Frederick Louis.
The Electress Sophia was present at the ceremony, but no invitation
was sent to the English envoy, nor was he allowed to see either the
Princess or the infant until ten days later, and he writes home
that he considers such proceedings “unaccountable”. After repeated
representations, he was admitted to the Princess’s chamber, and
writing home he mentions the fact, and says that he found “the women
all admiring the largeness and strength of the child”. That these
proceedings were directly due to the Elector may be gathered from the
English envoy’s next despatch, which also shows that thus early there
was bad feeling between the father and the son.
“Being at the Court,” he writes, “the other day, the Prince Electoral
took me away from the rest of the company, and making great professions
of duty to the Queen, he desired me that I would represent all things
favourably on his side, and _he_ was not the cause that matters were
arranged at the Princess’s lying-in and the christening of the child
with so little respect to the Queen, and so little regard to England.
For my part I have taken no notice of it to any of them, but I think
the whole proceeding has been very extraordinary. Wherever the fault
is, I won’t pretend to judge.”[26]
There is little doubt that the Elector George had learned of the
Electress Sophia’s and his son’s intrigues, and had determined to
show his independence and his indifference to the English succession
in this manner. He might have been more polite without any sacrifice
of principle. But Queen Anne had to swallow the affront, and after
the birth of Prince Frederick she was forced to create Prince George
Augustus, Baron Tewkesbury, Viscount Northallerton, Earl of Milford
Haven, Marquis and Duke of Cambridge, and to give him precedence over
the whole peerage. The patent of the dukedom was sent over to the
English envoy at Hanover, with instructions that he was to deliver it
with ceremony. The Whigs had, however, reckoned without the Elector,
who was jealous of these English honours to his son, and regarded them
as a proof of his mother’s desire to oust him from the succession.
When Howe notified to the Elector that the patent had arrived, and
asked for an opportunity to deliver it in due form, the Elector did
not condescend to reply, but sent his footman to bring it to the
palace. The envoy very properly refused to deliver the Queen’s patent
to such a messenger, and explained with some indignation that it was
“the highest gift the Queen had to bestow”. To this representation no
answer was returned, and Howe writes home complaining of the “delay
and disrespect” with which the Queen’s gift was treated, and states
that though he pressed repeatedly for a public audience, the Ministers
could not decide upon giving him one, and he adds: “They would have me
think it is the Elector’s jealousy of the Prince that would have it
otherwise; the Electress is much concerned”.[27]
This difficulty continued for some time, but it was finally got over by
the Electoral Prince receiving the patent privately from the English
envoy, and the Prince, on the occasion of its presentation, made “many
expressions of duty and gratitude for the great honour and favour the
Queen had been pleased to show him. He also made many excuses, and
desired me to represent that it was not _his_ fault the receiving of
the patent was not performed in the most respectful manner.”[28]
Anne again had to ignore the Elector’s affront, though she did not
hesitate to quote it to the Whigs as an additional reason why she
should not invite any member of the Hanoverian family to England,
and, by way of marking her displeasure in a diplomatic manner, she
recalled Howe, and replaced him by D’Alais, who was in every way
his predecessor’s inferior; he could not speak or write the English
language, and was the less likely to have any direct communication
with the disaffected in England. Still Anne was compelled to disguise
her dislike, and when Caroline gave birth to a daughter,[29] the Queen
became godmother to the infant, who was named after her, though she
contrived to distil a drop of bitterness into the cup by nominating the
Duchess of Celle, who was hated by the Electress Sophia, to act as her
proxy.
Though the Queen was successful, now on one pretext, now on another,
in preventing the arrival of any member of the electoral family in
England, the fact remained that the Hanoverian succession was the law
of the land, and the Queen’s bad health made it likely that in all
human probability that succession would not long be delayed. These
considerations led many eminent Englishmen to cultivate good relations
with the Court of Hanover, and caused many well-born adventurers,
too, who had not been particularly successful at home, to journey
to Herrenhausen with the object of ingratiating themselves with the
electoral family against the time when they should come into their
kingdom. Among these worldly pilgrims were the Howards, husband and
wife. Henrietta Howard was the eldest daughter of a Norfolk baronet,
Sir Henry Hobart, and had married, when quite young, Henry Howard,
third son of the Earl of Suffolk, a spendthrift who possessed no
patrimony, and probably married her because of her fortune of £6,000,
a fair portion for a woman in that day. £4,000 of this sum was
settled on Mrs. Howard, the rest her husband quickly got rid of. He
was a good-looking young fellow, but dissipated and drunken, with no
principles, and a violent temper. It soon became evident that he and
his wife could not afford to live in England as befitted their station,
and Howard’s character was so well known that he could not obtain any
appointment at home; they therefore resolved to repair to Hanover,
where living was much cheaper than in England, and throw in their
fortunes with the electoral family.
Mrs. Howard, at the time of her arrival in Hanover, had pretensions
to beauty; she was of medium height and a good figure, with pretty
features and a pleasing expression. Her greatest beauty was her
abundant light brown hair, as fine as spun silk. This she is said
to have sacrificed, either to pay the expenses of the journey or to
defray the cost of a dinner the Howards gave to certain influential
Hanoverians after their arrival. They were often in great straits for
money, even at Hanover. They took lodgings in the town, and duly paid
their court to the “heiress of Great Britain” at Herrenhausen. The
Electress Sophia was delighted with Mrs. Howard; she was English and
well-born, which constituted a sure passport to her favour; she was
pleasant and amiable, and, though not the prodigy of intellect some of
her admirers subsequently declared her to be, she was well-informed and
well-read, much more so than the Hanoverian ladies. She soon became
a welcome guest in the apartments of the Electress Sophia and the
Electoral Princess, where she could even simulate an interest in the
philosophy of Leibniz. Mrs. Howard possessed in a consummate degree
the artfulness which goes to make a successful courtier, and she knew
exactly how far flattery should go.[30] Caroline grew to like her, and
appointed her one of her _dames du palais_; she found in Mrs. Howard a
companion naturally refined in speech and conduct, and thus a welcome
change to the coarseness of many of the Hanoverian ladies.
But the Howards had not come all the way to Hanover to figure at the
coteries of the Electress and the Electoral Princess. They sought more
substantial rewards, and these they knew rested with the princes rather
than the princesses of the electoral house. George Augustus, whose
vanity led him to desire a reputation for gallantry, which had mainly
rested on hearsay, was early attracted to Mrs. Howard, and before
long spent many hours in her society. The acquaintance soon ripened
into intimacy, and the lady found herself not only the servant of the
Electoral Princess, but also the friend of the Electoral Prince. If we
bear in mind the laxity of the manners and morals of courts in general
at this time, and the Hanoverian Court in particular, it is puerile to
regard this intimacy as “Platonic,” as some have described it. George
Augustus was not of a nature to appreciate intellectual friendship
between man and woman; and such friendships were not understood at the
Court of Hanover, where Mrs. Howard, though not occupying the position
of accredited mistress to the Electoral Prince, as Schulemburg did to
the Elector (for she would probably have objected to such publicity),
came to be universally so regarded. The fact that, despite her intimacy
with George Augustus, she continued to be received by the Electress
Sophia, and was still admitted to the society of the Electoral
Princess, goes for nothing. Both Princesses were women of the world,
and both had been reared in courts not conspicuous for their morality.
The Electress Sophia had for years tolerated, nay more, had recognised
and received the Countess Platen as the mistress of her husband, the
late Elector, and Schulemburg as the mistress of her son, the present
Elector. Her daughter, Sophie Charlotte, had followed the same policy
towards the mistress of her husband, the King of Prussia, and Caroline,
who had spent her childhood in the corrupt Court of Dresden, her
girlhood at Berlin, and had married into the family of Hanover, was
not likely to take a different line. If she had been tempted to do so,
she had the fate of her unhappy mother-in-law before her eyes, who,
largely in consequence of her lack of complaisance, was now dragging
out her life in dreary Ahlden. At Hanover even the court chaplain
would probably have found excuses for these irregularities; he would
have pleaded that princes were not like other men, and as they were
obliged to make marriages of policy, they were not amenable to the
laws that govern meaner mortals. Caroline’s was not wholly a marriage
of policy; there is abundant evidence to prove that she was attached
to her husband, and he, so far as it was in his nature to be so, was
devoted to her. But he must have been very tiresome sometimes, with
his boasting and strutting, his silly vanity and absurd stories, his
outbursts of temper and his utter inability to understand or sympathise
with the higher side of her nature, and she was doubtless glad when he
transferred some of his society to Mrs. Howard, provided always that
Mrs. Howard kept her place. To do Mrs. Howard justice, she showed no
desire to vaunt herself, or take advantage of the intimacy. She must
indeed have been content with very small things, for the Electoral
Prince, like his father, was mean; but had he been generous, he had at
this time neither money to give nor patronage to bestow, the rewards
were all in the future. The Electress Sophia was pleased rather than
otherwise with her grandson’s intimacy with Mrs. Howard: “It will
improve his English,” she is reported to have said. Regarding such
affairs as inevitable she thought he could not have chosen better than
this lady, who had a complaisant husband, and whose conduct to the
world was a model of propriety, verging on prudishness.
Caroline, at any rate, accepted the situation with philosophy. She
knew her husband’s weaknesses and made allowance for them. She had
greater things to occupy her mind than his domestic irregularities,
for, though outwardly indifferent to the English succession, she was
in reality keenly concerned about it. She did not dare to show her
interest too prominently, for the Electoral Prince had his own views
on the subservience of women generally, and wives in particular, and
was jealous of his wife taking any public part in politics, lest it
should be said that she governed him, as in fact she did. To better
qualify herself for her future position, Caroline took into her service
a girl from England, but born in Hanover, named Brandshagen, who read
and talked English with her daily. It is a pity that she did not engage
a native-born Englishwoman while she was about it, as such a teacher
might have corrected the future Queen’s English, which was impaired by
a marked German accent until the end of her life.
Queen Anne showed her interest in Caroline, or at least her knowledge
of her existence, by frequently sending her “her compliments” through
the English envoy, and, a little tardily, she sent over a present to
Hanover for her godchild, the Princess Anne, and a letter full of good
wishes.
Within the next few years Caroline gave birth to two more daughters,
Amelia and Caroline.[31] The Queen of England sent neither gifts nor
letters on the occasion of their birth, nor took any notice of them.
For the state of political parties had now changed in England, and with
the change the need of conciliating the Hanoverian family had receded
into the background.
The popular feeling expressed at the time of Sacheverell’s trial had
shown the Queen that the nation was weary of the Whigs, and when the
new Parliament met in November, 1710, it was found that the Tory party
largely predominated, and sweeping changes were made in the Ministry.
Harley, Earl of Oxford, became Lord Treasurer, and stood highest in
the Queen’s confidence; St. John, shortly afterwards created Viscount
Bolingbroke, became Secretary of State; and the Duke of Ormonde, a
noted Jacobite, was appointed to the Lord-Lieutenancy of Ireland. Anne
had broken at last with the imperious Duchess of Marlborough, and had
taken a new favourite, one Abigail Hill, afterwards Lady Masham, whose
interest was all for the Tories. Marlborough still retained command of
the army, but resigned all the places held by his duchess, and absented
himself from court.
It is difficult to follow Anne’s mind at this time, or the tortuous
policy of her Ministers with regard to the Hanoverian succession,
since one act contradicted another, and one utterance was at variance
with the next. There must have been some hard lying on both sides, and
there was certainly no standard of political honour, morality or truth.
The Queen’s health was bad, and her life uncertain, and the policy
of most of her Ministers was dictated by the wish to stand well with
both claimants to the throne, so that they might be on the safe side
whatever happened. Such, at least, was the policy of Oxford, who was
personally in favour of the Hanoverian succession, yet corresponded
with Marshal Berwick for the restoration of the Stuart dynasty, on
condition of Anne retaining the crown for life, and due security
being given for religious and political freedom. Marlborough, on the
other hand, while corresponding with St. Germains, did not scruple to
approach the Electress Sophia with assurances of absolute devotion,
and to denounce Oxford and Bolingbroke as traitors desirous of placing
James on the throne of England. Marlborough frequently visited Hanover,
and in return for his support, and also because he favoured the
continuance of the war between the Allies and France, the Elector
upheld Marlborough’s command of the English army in Flanders.
England, however, was weary of the war, which had been dragging on
for years, and had cost her thousands of men and millions of money,
without her having any direct interest in it, however advantageous
its prosecution might be to the Elector of Hanover and others. The
Tory Ministry, upon reflection, determined to withdraw England from
the Allies, and to make peace with France, partly, no doubt, because
this policy would be the means of breaking the power of Marlborough.
The death of the Emperor Joseph, which occurred in 1711, furnished an
excuse for England to reconsider her position and to begin negotiations
for peace. Queen Anne addressed a personal letter to the Electress
Sophia, and sent it by Lord Rivers, praying her to use her influence
to promote the peace of Europe. But the Electress was much hurt by
the Queen’s behaviour, and the fact that, after all these years of
effort, neither she nor any member of her House had yet been invited
to England, and she replied very coldly. The interests of Hanover
were all in favour of the prosecution of the war, and of England
continuing her share, or more than her share, of the burden, so the
Elector departed from his usual policy of abstention in English
affairs, to oppose both the Queen and her Ministers. He even went so
far as to instruct his envoy, Bothmar, who had come over to London
with Marlborough, to present a memorial against the peace. This was
regarded as an unwarrantable interference on the part of a foreign
prince with English affairs, and both the Queen and the House of
Commons were extremely indignant. The House of Lords, which had a Whig
majority, supported Marlborough and the Elector, but the Queen, to
overcome their opposition, created twelve new peers, and, supported by
popular feeling, triumphed all along the line. Bothmar was denounced by
Bolingbroke as a “most inveterate party man,” and the Queen insisted
on his recall. Marlborough was dismissed from all his employments,
and retired to Antwerp in disgrace. England withdrew from the Allies,
and the Peace of Utrecht was signed, after protracted negotiations,
on March 31st, 1713. There is no need to enter here into the question
of its merits or demerits; it will suffice to say that the peace was
undoubtedly popular in England, and, when proclaimed, was hailed by the
people with demonstrations of joy.
[Illustration: LEIBNIZ.]
The popular enthusiasm looked ominous for the Hanoverian succession.
The Elector had departed for once from his wise policy of abstention,
and the result was disastrous. England left Hanover to shift for
itself; moreover, it emphatically resented Hanoverian interference.
The Act guaranteeing the succession to the Electress Sophia and her
heirs still remained on the Statute Book, but in the present temper of
the House of Commons and the nation it might be repealed any day. The
gravity of the situation was fully realised at the Electoral Court;
the coveted crown of England seemed to be receding into the distance.
The Elector shrugged his shoulders and said nothing, but the Electress
Sophia and the Electoral Prince were greatly exercised by the untoward
turn of events, and put their heads together to see what could be done.
Caroline was also very anxious--how much so is shown by the letters
which passed between her and Leibniz at this time. Leibniz, who was at
Vienna, wrote to Caroline to send her his good wishes for Christmas,
and at the same time to condole with her on the outlook in England. His
letter runs as follows:--
“VIENNA, _December 16th, 1713_.
“I have not troubled your Highness with letters since I left
Hanover, as I had nothing of interest to tell you, but I must not
neglect the opportunity which this season gives me of assuring
your Highness of my perpetual devotion, and I pray God to grant
you the same measure of years as the Electress enjoys, and the
same good health. And I pray also that you may one day enjoy the
title of Queen of England so well worn by Queen Elizabeth, which
you so highly merit. Consequently I wish the same good things to
his Highness, your consort, since you can only occupy the throne of
that great Queen with him. Whenever the gazettes publish favourable
rumours concerning you and affairs in England, I devoutly pray
that they may become true; sometimes it is rumoured here that a
fleet is about to escort you both to England, and a powerful
alliance is being formed to support your claims. I have even read
that the Tsar is only strengthening his navy in order to supply you
with knights of the round table. It is time to translate all these
rumours into action, as our enemies do not sleep. Count Gallas,
who is leaving for Rome in a few days, tells me that well-informed
people in England think that the first act of the present Tory
Ministry will be to put down the Whigs, the second to confirm the
peace, and the third to change the law of succession. I hear that
in Hanover there is strong opposition to all this; I hope it may be
so, with all my heart.”
To this Caroline replied:--
“HANOVER, _December 27th, 1713_.
“I assure you that of all the letters which this season has brought
me yours has been the most welcome. You do well to send me your
good wishes for the throne of England, which are sorely needed
just now, for in spite of all the favourable rumours you mention,
affairs there seem to be going from bad to worse. For my part (and
I am a woman and like to delude myself) I cling to the hope that,
however bad things may be now, they will ultimately turn to the
advantage of our House. I accept the comparison which you draw,
though all too flattering, between me and Queen Elizabeth as a good
omen. Like Elizabeth, the Electress’s rights are denied her by a
jealous sister with a bad temper (Queen Anne), and she will never
be sure of the English crown until her accession to the throne.
God be praised that our Princess of Wales (the Electress Sophia)
is better than ever, and by her good health confounds all the
machinations of her enemies.”
FOOTNOTES TO BOOK I, CHAPTER V:
[25] Howe’s Despatch, Hanover, 5th February, 1707. The son now born was
Frederick Louis, later Prince of Wales, the father of George III.
[26] Howe’s Despatch, Hanover, 25th February, 1707.
[27] Howe’s Despatch, Hanover, 11th March, 1707.
[28] Howe’s Despatch, Hanover, 11th March, 1707.
[29] Anne; born in 1709. She was afterwards Princess Royal of England,
and married in 1733 the Prince of Orange.
[30] _Vide_ Swift’s character of Mrs. Howard, _Suffolk Correspondence_.
[31] Princess Amelia was born in 1710, Princess Caroline in 1713. They
both died unmarried.
CHAPTER VI.
THE LAST YEAR AT HANOVER.
1714.
The history of the last year of Queen Anne’s reign, with its plots
and counter plots, strife of statesmen and bitter party feuds, has
often been written, so far as England is concerned. But comparatively
little is known of how this eventful year, so important in fortunes
of the dynasty, passed at Hanover. Every one, both in England and
Hanover, felt that a crisis was imminent, yet no one, on either side
of the water, prepared for it. The Queen’s death was likely to be
accelerated by her own mental struggles with regard to the succession
to her crown, and by the fierce quarrels and jealousies that raged
among her advisers. The rival ministers could scarce forbear coming
to blows in her presence, the rival claimants to her throne were
eager to snatch the sceptre from her failing hand almost before she
was dead. James, flitting between Lorraine and St. Germains, was in
active correspondence with his friends in England waiting for the
psychological moment to take action. Over at Herrenhausen, the aged
Electress watched with trembling eagerness every move at the English
Court, straining her ears for the summons which never came. Though she
knew it not, in these last months she and Anne were running a race for
life.
The news that came to Sophia from England was bad, as bad as it could
be. The Tories were in power, and what was worse, the Jacobite section
of the Tories, headed by Bolingbroke and Ormonde, were gaining swift
ascendency over Oxford, who still, outwardly at any rate, professed
himself in favour of the Hanoverian succession, and so, for that
matter, did Bolingbroke too. The Queen, it is true, continued to
profess her friendship to the House of Hanover, but her professions
were as nothing worth. As her health failed, her conscience reproached
her with the part she had played towards her exiled brother. There was
another consideration which weighed with her more than all the rest,
one that does not seem to have been given due weight in the criticisms
which have been passed on her vacillating conduct, either from the
Hanoverian or the Jacobite point of view. Like her grandfather, Charles
the First, Anne was fervently attached to the Church of England;
her love for it was the one fixed point in her otherwise tortuous
policy. Like Charles the First, she saw the English Church through the
medium of a highly coloured light, as a reformed branch of the Church
Catholic, and as the _via media_ between Protestantism and Popery. Her
love for the Church was a passionate conviction, and her zeal for its
welfare was shown by many acts throughout her reign. The excuse urged
by her friends for her conduct to her father was that she had been
actuated by zeal for the Church, which was in danger at his hands.
The question now presented itself again. How would the Church fare with
a Roman Catholic as her successor? James, it was true, spoke fair,
and declared his determination to maintain the Church of England in
all its rights and privileges as by law established, but the Queen
remembered that King James the Second had promised the same, and had
persecuted the Church beyond measure. The people had not forgotten the
expulsion of the Fellows of Magdalen, or the committal of the seven
bishops to the Tower. Would not her brother also, in the same spirit
of blind bigotry, seek to destroy one of the strongest bulwarks of the
throne? “How can I serve him, my lord?” she once asked Buckingham. “You
know well that a Papist cannot enjoy this crown in peace. All would
be easy,” she continued, “if he would enter the pale of the Church of
England.”[32] But that was what James would not do. On the other hand,
the Church would gain little, and probably suffer much, if its temporal
Head were the Electress Sophia, a German Calvinist, with a strong bias
towards rationalism, as was shown by her patronage of the sceptic
Toland and others of the same way of thinking. In truth, some sympathy
must be extended to Queen Anne, and those of her many subjects who
thought with her. It is no wonder they were undecided how to act, for
they were between the Scylla of Popery and the Charybdis of Calvinism.
Yet the impassioned appeal which James had addressed to his sister
that she would prefer “your own brother, the last male of our name,
to the Electress of Hanover, the remotest relation we have, whose
friendship you have no reason to rely on, or to be fond of, and who
will leave the government to foreigners of another language, and of
another interest,”[33] could not fail to awaken a responsive echo
in the Queen’s heart. Other considerations weighed too. She was by
temperament superstitious, and as her health failed and she saw herself
like to die, childless, friendless and alone, she came to think that
the restoration of the crown to her brother was the only atonement
she could make for the wrong she, his best-loved child, had done her
father. This sentiment of Queen Anne’s was well understood, and for the
most part approved, by the Courts of Europe, with whom, almost without
exception, the Hanoverian claims were unpopular, and considered to have
little chance of success. The ambitions of the Electress Sophia met
with no sympathy, and the idea of her becoming Queen of England was
scouted as preposterous. Even her beloved niece and confidante, the
Duchess of Orleans, gave her cold comfort. “Queen Anne,” she wrote to
her, “must be well aware in her heart of hearts that our young king is
her brother; I feel certain that her conscience will wake up before her
death, and she will do justice to her brother”.[34]
Neither the Electress Sophia nor the Duchess of Orleans realised that
the crown of England was not in the Queen’s gift, or that there was
a power behind the throne greater than the throne. If this power had
been vested in the people, there is little doubt that James would have
come into his own. In 1714 the fickle tide to popular feeling seemed
to be flowing in his favour. For the last year or two the birthday of
James had been celebrated as openly as if he had been _de facto_ and
not _de jure_ the heir to the crown, and his adherents were to be found
everywhere--in the Army, in the Navy, in the Church, in both Houses
of Parliament, and even in the councils of the Queen herself. But as
a result of the Revolution Settlement of 1688, the balance of power
rested, not with the people, nor with the Queen, nor even with her
chosen advisers, but with the Whig oligarchy. The Electress Sophia did
not appreciate fully the extent of this power; indeed it was impossible
for any one who had not a close acquaintance with English politics to
do so, but she was shrewd enough to see that with the Whigs was her
only hope.
The situation became so desperate that she determined to depart for
once from her policy of outward abstention from English politics,
and to take action independent of the Queen. The Whigs represented
to her that the presence in England of some member of her family was
imperatively necessary at this juncture. She agreed with them, and
the Electoral Prince was most eager to go, and so was the Electoral
Princess Caroline. A good deal has been written about the honourable
conduct of the House of Hanover in refusing to embarrass Queen Anne,
and certainly its conduct in this respect contrasted most favourably
with that of William of Orange towards James the Second. But though
this was true of the Elector George, who would do nothing behind the
Queen’s back, it could hardly be held to apply to the Electress Sophia
and her grandson. The Elector, had he been consulted, would certainly
have opposed the idea of the Electoral Prince going to England before
himself, as he would have regarded it as another intrigue to supplant
him in the favour of the English by his son; so it was decided not
to consult him at all. The Electress Sophia, George Augustus and
Caroline put their heads together, and with the advice of certain
Whig emissaries who were at Hanover, and of Prince Eugene of Savoy
and Leibniz, they resolved that the Electress should order Schütz,
the Hanoverian Envoy in England, to demand the writ for the Electoral
Prince to take his seat in the House of Lords as Duke of Cambridge.
As they knew that it would be useless to make such a request of the
Queen, to whom it ought to have been made, Schütz was instructed
to apply direct to the Lord Chancellor, in the hope that, when the
knowledge of his demand got abroad, the Whig Lords would take the
matter up, and make such a point of it that the Queen would be forced
to give way. They little knew the strength of her resistance, for her
determination to reign alone amounted to a mania. She would infinitely
have preferred James’s coming to that of George Augustus, if she had to
endure the presence of one claimant or the other.
The demand was duly made. What followed is best told in the despatch
which Bromley, the Secretary of State, wrote to Harley, a relative
of Lord Oxford, who had been sent to Hanover a few days previously.
Rumours had reached the Queen’s ears that intrigues were on foot there,
and Harley had been despatched to find out the state of feeling and
temporise matters. But before he arrived at Hanover the Electress’s
orders had been given to Schütz, and the move which Anne hoped to
prevent had been made. Bromley wrote:--
“Baron Schütz went to the Lord Chancellor, and said he was ordered
by the Electress Sophia to demand a writ for the Duke of Cambridge
to take his seat in Parliament, to which his Lordship answered that
his writ was sealed with the writs of the rest of the peers, but he
thought it his duty to acquaint the Queen before he delivered it. Her
Majesty was very much surprised to hear that a writ should be demanded
for a prince of her blood, and whom she had created a peer, to sit
in Parliament without any notice taken of it to her, and her Majesty
looks upon Mr. Schütz’s manner of transacting this affair to be so
disrespectful to her, and so different from any instructions he could
possibly have received from the Electress, that she thinks fit you
should immediately represent it to the Electress, and to his Electoral
Highness, and let them know it would be very acceptable to her Majesty
to have this person recalled, who has affronted her in so high a
degree.”[35]
On receipt of this despatch Harley had an interview with the Elector,
who assured him that he had given no instructions to Schütz, and he
had acted without his knowledge or approval. The Electress Sophia took
refuge in an evasion: “It is said that Madame l’Electrice wrote a
letter to Schütz only to inquire whether the Duke of Cambridge might
not have a writ as well as other peers”.[36] So writes Harley home.
He was charged with the less ungrateful task of making the Queen’s
compliments to the Electress and her family, and of asking them to
state what they wanted. The Electress Sophia’s hopes were raised again
by Harley’s request, and she and the Elector jointly drew up a memorial
to the Queen setting forth their wishes. The Elector was very angry
with his mother and his son, but where his interests were concerned he
sank family differences. The memorial,[37] which did not err on the
side of ambiguity, may thus be summarised:--
First. That the “Pretender” be forced to retire to Italy, seeing the
danger that existed to the Protestant succession by his being allowed
to remain so long in Lorraine.
Secondly. That the Queen should take measures to strengthen her Army
and Fleet against an invasion of England in the interests of the
“Pretender,” and for the better security of her Royal person and the
Protestant succession.
Thirdly. That the Queen should grant to those Protestant princes of the
Electoral House, who had not yet got them, the usual titles accorded to
princes of the blood of Great Britain.[38]
The Elector and Electress also expressed themselves strongly in favour
of the establishment of some member of the electoral family in England.
Harley promised to present the memorial to the Queen, and added that
her answer to the several points would be sent by special envoy. He
then departed from Hanover.
Meantime intrigue ran high in England. Bolingbroke had managed to
persuade the Queen that Oxford had privily encouraged the demand of
the writ for the Electoral Prince. The Queen, excited by this, began
to have doubts whether Harley, his relative, was to be trusted, and
whether he was not betraying her interests at the Hanoverian Court. So,
to make matters more explicit, she wrote a letter with her own hand to
the Electress Sophia, reiterating in the strongest and most peremptory
terms her objection to having any member of the electoral family in her
dominions during her lifetime. Similar letters were also sent to the
Elector and the Electoral Prince. The wording of them was generally
ascribed to Bolingbroke.
When Anne’s letters arrived at Hanover they created a feeling of
consternation at Herrenhausen, at least in that wing of the palace
which was occupied by the Electress Sophia. She, her grandson and
Caroline were depressed beyond measure at the failure of their scheme,
and incensed that the Queen should address them in so unceremonious
a manner. A few days previously Leibniz, who was then at Vienna, had
written to Caroline, saying:--
“God grant that the Electoral Prince may go to London soon, and that
all possible success may attend him. I trust that your Highness may
either accompany him or follow him immediately. Well-informed people
here are persuaded that, in the event of his Highness going to London,
the Corporation would not fail to make him a present, even if the Queen
and Parliament did nothing. But if, against the expectation of the
nation and the hopes of all well-affected people, the project comes to
nothing, or if it be thought at Hanover that the Prince’s going would
not yet be wise, it will be necessary to take great care to attribute
the cause of the delay to the English Ministers’ public and ill-founded
resentment. In that case the nation in the end will force them to
consent to the Prince’s coming. But if the English Court can make the
nation believe that there is dislike of, or indifference to, England
at the Court of Hanover, it will have a bad effect, and the last state
will be worse than the first.”[39]
To this communication Caroline now replied, and her letter shows how
keenly the Queen’s letters had been taken to heart:--
“Alas! It is not the Electoral Prince’s fault that, as desired by all
honest folk, he has not gone to London before now. He has moved heaven
and earth in the matter, and I have spoken about it very strongly to
the Elector. We were in a state of uncertainty here until yesterday,
when a courier arrived from the Queen with letters for the Electress,
the Elector and the Electoral Prince, of which I can only say that
they are of a violence worthy of my Lord Bolingbroke. The Electoral
Prince is now in despair about going to take his seat in the English
Parliament, as he had hoped. I do not know how the world will judge of
the policy which keeps us still at Hanover. I do not so much regret the
loss we personally may suffer, as that we may seem to have abandoned
for the moment the cause of our religion, the liberty of Europe and
so many of our brave and honest friends in England. I have only the
consolation of knowing that everything possible has been done by the
Prince to obtain the Queen’s permission. The Electress joined him in
this, and they now both intend to send the letters they have received
from the Queen to their friends in England. I can find no comfort
anywhere beyond the belief that Providence orders all things for our
good. In fact I may say that never has any annoyance seemed to me so
keen and insupportable as this. I fear for the health of the Electoral
Prince, and perhaps even for his life.”[40]
There was another life, more valuable than that of the Electoral
Prince, trembling in the balance. The day after Caroline wrote this
letter was a fatal day to the Electress Sophia. She, the “Heiress of
Britain,” had felt the Queen’s rebuff far more than her grandson or
Caroline; her haughty spirit resented the manner in which she was
addressed by her royal cousin of England, and her wounded pride and her
thwarted ambition combined to throw her into an extraordinary state of
agitation, which at her age she was unable to bear. Mollineux, an agent
of the Duke of Marlborough who was at Hanover at the time, declared
later that the shock of “these vile letters has broken her heart and
brought her in sorrow to the grave”.
The Queen of England’s letter was delivered to the Electress on
Wednesday evening about seven o’clock when she was playing cards.
She got up from the card-table, and when she had read the letter,
she became greatly agitated, and went out and walked up and down the
garden for about three hours. The next morning she was not very well,
but though still very much annoyed she recovered during the day,
and on Friday she had apparently regained her composure. Meanwhile
she determined that the Queen’s letters to herself and her grandson
should be published, so that the world in general, and her friends
in England in particular, might know the true state of affairs. The
Elector refused to join them in this, and withheld the Queen’s letter
to himself. She dined in public with the Elector that day as usual,
and late in the afternoon went out for her walk in the garden of
Herrenhausen with the Electoral Princess and her suite. She began to
talk to Caroline about the letters, and gradually became more and
more excited, walking very fast. The most trustworthy account of what
followed is given in the following despatch of D’Alais, the English
envoy:--
“The Electress felt indisposed on Wednesday evening, but she was better
on Friday morning, and even wrote to her niece, the Duchess-dowager
of Orleans. The same evening, about seven o’clock, whilst she was
walking in the garden of Herrenhausen, and going towards the orangery,
those with her perceived that she suddenly became pale, and she fell
forwards in a fainting fit. The Electoral Princess and the Countess
von Pickenbourg, who were with her, supported her on either side, and
the chamberlain of her Electoral Highness helped them to keep her from
falling. The Elector, who was in the garden hard by, heard their cries,
and ran forward. He found her Electoral Highness unconscious, and he
put some _poudre d’or_ in her mouth. Servants were promptly called,
and between them they carried the Electress to her room, where she was
bled. But she was already dead, and only a few drops of blood came out.
The Electress was in the eighty-fourth year of her age. The doctors say
that she has died of apoplexy. On the Saturday night they carried her
body into the chapel of the château.”[41]
Thus died one of the greatest princesses and most remarkable women
of her time. The Electress Sophia was a worthy ancestress of our
good Queen Victoria, whom in some respects, notably her devotion to
duty, and her large and liberal way of looking at things, she closely
resembled. No English historian has yet done justice to the eventful
life of Sophia of Hanover, who missed, by a bare two months, becoming
Queen of England. It was largely in consequence of her able policy,
maintained throughout a critical period, no less than her Stuart
descent, that her descendants came to occupy the English throne.
The Electress Sophia’s death was soon known in England, but no
official notice was taken of it until Bothmar arrived to announce it
formally in July. The choice of Bothmar for this mission shows that the
Elector George, now heir-presumptive, was manifesting more interest in
the English succession. Bothmar had been in England before, and was by
no means a favourite with Bolingbroke and the Tories. At the same time,
through Bothmar, George caused a fresh instrument of Regency to be
drawn up in the event of the Queen’s death, containing his nominations
of the Lords of the Regency. This document was entrusted to Bothmar,
and the seals were to be broken when the Queen died. On receiving the
Elector’s notification of his mother’s death, Queen Anne commanded a
general mourning, and very reluctantly inserted George’s name in the
prayer-book as next heir to the throne in place of that of the late
Electress Sophia. The death of the Electress came to the Queen as a
relief. She regarded her as one embarrassment the less, for she had
heard of her cousin George’s indifference to the English succession,
and she anticipated comparatively little trouble from him. Sophia’s
death also enabled her to ignore some awkward points in the memorial,
which had now reached her by the hands of Harley, such as had reference
to the Electress’s English household and pension. But though Sophia
was dead, the memorial had to be answered. A reply was drawn up in
writing, and the Earl of Clarendon, the Queen’s first cousin, of whose
attachment to her person she had no manner of doubt, was despatched as
Envoy Extraordinary to Hanover--the second special mission within a few
months.
The Queen’s answer to the Hanoverian memorial ran as follows:--
“That her Majesty has used her instances to have the Pretender removed
out of Lorraine, and since the last addresses of Parliament has
repeated them, and has writ herself to the Duke of Lorraine to press it
in the strongest terms. This her Majesty hath done to get him removed,
but it can’t be imagined it is in her power to prescribe where the
Pretender shall go, or by whom he shall be received. His being removed
out of France is more than was provided for by the Peace at Ryswick.
Correspondence with the Pretender is by law high treason, and it is her
Majesty’s interest and care to have this law strictly executed.
“The vain hopes entertained at Bar-le-Duc and the reports thence are
not to be wondered at. Her Majesty thinks herself fully secured, as
well by treaties as by the duty and affection of her people, against
all attempt whatsoever. Besides these securities, her Majesty has
a settled militia and such other force as her Parliament, to whose
consideration she has referred that matter, judged sufficient for
the safety of her kingdom. And it cannot be unknown that a standing
army in time of peace, without consent of Parliament, is contrary to
the fundamental laws of this realm. Her Majesty is so far from being
unfurnished with a fleet that she has at this time more ships at sea,
and ready to be put to sea, than any other power in Europe.
“Her Majesty looks upon it to be very unnecessary that one of the
Electoral family should reside in Great Britain to take care of the
security of her Royal person, of her kingdom, and of the Protestant
succession, as expressed in the memorial. This, God and the laws have
entrusted to her Majesty alone, and to admit any person into a share
of these cares with her Majesty would be dangerous to the public
tranquillity, as it is inconsistent with the constitution of the
monarchy.
“When her Majesty considers the use that has been endeavoured to
be made of the titles she has already conferred, she has little
encouragement to grant more. Granting titles of honour in the last
reign to persons of foreign birth gave such dissatisfaction to the
nation as produced a provision in the Act of Parliament whereby the
succession is established in the Electoral House, that when the
limitation in that Act shall take effect, no person born out of the
kingdom of England, Scotland and Ireland, or the dominions thereunto
belonging, though naturalised or made a denizen (except such as are
born of English parents), shall be capable to be of the Privy Council,
or a member of either House of Parliament, or to enjoy any office or
place of trust, or to have a grant of land, tenements or hereditaments
from the crown to himself, or to any other in trust for him.”[42]
Clarendon arrived at Hanover on July 26th, 1714, imbued with a strong
sense of the importance of his mission, and requested an audience at
once. But he found, to his surprise, that the Elector was in no hurry
to receive him, and could not see him for more than a week. At last he
had audience. The account of that interview and what followed is best
given in his own words:--
“On Saturday last I had my first audience of the Elector at noon at
Herrenhausen. He received me in a room where he was alone; a gentleman
of the Court came to my lodgings here, with two of the Elector’s
coaches, and carried me to Herrenhausen. I was met at my alighting out
of the coach by Monsieur d’Haremberg, Marshal of the Court, and at the
top of the stairs by the Chevalier Reden, second chamberlain (the Count
de Platen, great chamberlain, being sick); he conducted me through
three rooms, to the room where the Elector was, who met me at the door,
and being returned three or four steps into that room, he stopped,
and the door was shut. I then delivered my credentials to him, and
made him a compliment from the Queen, to which he answered that he had
always had the greatest veneration imaginable for the Queen, that he
was always ready to acknowledge the great obligations he and his family
have to her Majesty, and that he desired nothing more earnestly than to
entertain a good correspondence with her....
“I then delivered to him the Queen’s answer to his memorial, and
the other letter, and I spoke upon all the heads contained in my
instructions, and in your letter of the 22nd of June, O.S. When I told
him that, as the Queen had already done all that could be done to
secure the succession to her crown to his family, so she expected that
if he had any reason to suspect designs are carrying on to disappoint
it, he should speak plainly upon that subject, he interrupted me and
said these words: ‘I have never believed that the Queen cherished any
designs against the interests of my family,’ and ‘I am not aware of
having given her Majesty any reason to suspect that I wished to do
anything against her interests, or which might displease her in any
way. I love not to do such things. The Queen did me the honour to
write to me, and ask me to let her know what I thought would be of
advantage to the succession. We gave a written memorial to Mr. Harley
to which I have yet had no reply.’ I told him I had just then had the
honour to deliver him an answer to the memorial, and that if, when he
had perused that answer, he desired to have any part explained, I did
believe I should be able to do it to his satisfaction. Then I proceeded
to speak upon the other points, and when I came to mention Schütz’s
demanding the writ for the Duke of Cambridge, he said these words: ‘I
hope that the Queen does not believe that it was done by my commands.
I assure you it was done unknown to me; the late Electress wrote to
Schütz without my knowledge to ask him to find out why the Prince had
not received his writ, which she believed was sent to all peers, and
instead of that he demanded the writ even without the Electress’s
commands. I would do nothing to annoy the Queen to whom we owe so
many obligations.’ My speaking to him and the answers he made took up
something above an hour.
[Illustration: HERRENHAUSEN.]
“Then I had audience of the Electoral Prince and of Duke Ernest,
the Elector’s brother, in the same room, and then of the Electoral
Princess. After that I had the honour to dine with them all, and after
dinner, here in the town, I had audience of the Electoral Princess’s
son and three daughters. At dinner the Elector seemed to be in very
good humour, talked to me several times, asked many questions about
England, and seemed very willing to be informed. It is very plain that
he knows very little of our Constitution, and seems to be sensible
that he has been imposed upon. The Electoral Prince told me he thought
himself very happy that the Queen had him in her thoughts, that he
should be very glad if it were in his power to convince the Queen
how grateful a sense he had of all her favours. Duke Ernest said the
Queen did him a great deal of honour to remember him, that he most
heartily wished the continuance of her Majesty’s health, and hoped no
one of his family would ever be so ungrateful as to forget the very
great obligations they all had to her. The Electoral Princess said
she was very glad to hear the Queen was well, she hoped she would
enjoy good health many years, that her kindness to this family was
so very great that they could never make sufficient acknowledgments
for it. Thus I have acquainted you with all that passed at the first
audience.”[43]
We find Clarendon writing again a few days later: “The Elector has
said to some person here that I have spoken very plain, and he
can understand me, and indeed I have spoken plain language on all
occasions. I hope that will not be found a fault in England.”[44]
Clarendon soon had reason to regret his speaking so “very plain,”
for at the very hour when the English envoy was haranguing the
Elector, Queen Anne was dead. The sword so long suspended had fallen
at last. The Queen had frequently declared in the course of the last
month that the perpetual contentions of her Ministers would cause
her death. She had striven to end the bitter strife between Oxford
and Bolingbroke by compelling the former to give up the Treasurer’s
staff, which he did on Tuesday, July 27th. Thus Oxford had fallen;
Bolingbroke had triumphed, but his triumph was not to last long. The
same night a council was called at nine o’clock in the evening, over
which the Queen presided; but the removal of Oxford seemed only to
add fuel to the flames. The partisans of the displaced Minister and
those of Bolingbroke, regardless of the presence of the Queen, her
weakness, the consideration due to her as a woman, and the respect
due to her office, violently raged at one another until two o’clock in
the morning, and the scene was only closed by the tears and anguish
of the Queen, who at last swooned and had to be carried out of the
council chamber. Another council was called for the next day; the
recriminations were as fierce as before, nothing was settled, and the
council was again suspended by the alarming illness of the Queen.
A third council was summoned for the Friday. The Queen wept, and
said, “I shall never survive it”. And so it proved, for when the hour
appointed for the council drew nigh, the royal victim, worn out with
sickness of mind and body, and dreading the strife, was seized with an
apoplectic fit. She was carried to bed, and her state was soon seen to
be hopeless. The news of the Queen’s illness got known to Bolingbroke
and his friends first, probably through Lady Masham, and they hurried
to the palace. Lady Masham burst in upon them from the royal chamber in
the utmost disorder, crying: “Alas! my lords, we are undone, entirely
ruined--the Queen is a dead woman; all the world cannot save her”. The
suddenness of this blow stunned the Jacobites; they had been so eager
to grasp at power that they had killed their best friend. All was
confusion and distracted counsel. The Duke of Ormonde declared that if
the Queen were conscious, and would name her brother her successor,
he would answer for the soldiers. But the Queen was not conscious,
and they hesitated to take a decisive step. Atterbury, Bishop of
Rochester, was all for action, and then and there offered to go forth
in full pontificals and proclaim King James at Charing Cross and the
Royal Exchange. But the others resolved to temporise and call a formal
council for the morrow to see what could be done. Meantime the Queen
was sinking, and her only intelligible words were: “My brother! Oh!
my poor brother, what will become of you?” There is no doubt that
Bolingbroke, Ormonde and Atterbury, had they been given time, would
have tried to obtain from the Queen the nomination of James as her
successor, and have acted accordingly, but time was not given them. The
favourable moment passed, and the Whigs, and those Tories who favoured
the Hanoverian succession, were alert.
Before the assembled council could get to business next morning, the
door opened, and the Dukes of Argyll and Somerset entered the room.
These two great peers, representing the Whigs of Scotland and England
respectively, announced that though they had not been summoned to
the council, yet, on hearing of the Queen’s danger, they felt bound
to hasten thither. While Bolingbroke and Ormonde sat silent, fearing
mischief, afraid to bid the intruding peers to retire, the Duke of
Shrewsbury rose and welcomed them, and asked them to take seats at the
council table. It was then clear to the Jacobites that the presence
of Argyll and Somerset was part of a concerted plan with Shrewsbury.
The plan rapidly developed. On the motion of Somerset, seconded by
Argyll, Shrewsbury was nominated Lord Treasurer, but he declined
the office unless the Queen herself appointed him. The council then
sought audience with the dying Queen. She was sinking fast, but she
retained enough consciousness to give the white wand into the hands of
Shrewsbury, and bade him, with the sweet voice which was her greatest
charm, to “use it for the good of my people”. Then indeed the Jacobites
knew that all was over, for Shrewsbury was a firm adherent of the House
of Hanover. Bolingbroke and Ormonde withdrew in confusion, and the
“best cause in the world,” as Atterbury said, “was lost for want of
spirit”.
The Whig statesmen were not slow to follow up their advantage. They
concentrated several regiments around and in London, they ordered the
recall of troops from Ostend, they sent a fleet to sea, they obtained
possession of all the ports, and did everything necessary to check a
rising or an invasion in favour of James. Craggs was despatched to
Hanover to tell the Elector that the Queen was dying, and the council
determined to proclaim him King the moment the Queen’s breath was out
of her body. They had not long to wait. The Queen died early next
morning, August 1st, and on the same day the seals of the document
drawn up by George appointing the Council of Regency were broken in the
presence of the Hanoverian representative, Bothmar. Without delay the
heralds proclaimed that “The high and mighty Prince, George, Elector
of Brunswick and Lüneburg, is, by the death of Queen Anne of blessed
memory, become our lawful and rightful liege lord, King of Great
Britain, France and Ireland, Defender of the Faith”. The people heard
the proclamation without protest, and some even were found to cry, “God
save King George”.
The moment the Queen died two more messengers were despatched to
Hanover, one, a State messenger, to Lord Clarendon, the other, a
special envoy, Lord Dorset, to do homage to the new King on behalf of
the Lords of the Regency, and to attend him on his journey to England.
Hanover was in a state of great excitement. Craggs had arrived on
August 5th, bringing the news of the Queen’s serious illness. The
messenger to Lord Clarendon arrived next day late at night, and found
that the envoy was not at his lodgings, but supping with a charming
lady. But the news brooked of no delay, and seeking out Clarendon, the
messenger handed him his despatches, which ordered him to acquaint
George with the death of the Queen. There could be no more unwelcome
tidings for Lord Clarendon. “It is the only misfortune I had to fear in
this world,” he exclaimed. Anne was his first cousin, and all his hopes
were bound up with Bolingbroke and the Jacobite Tories, whose day, he
shrewdly guessed, was now over. He forthwith called his coach, and late
though the hour was, drove off to Herrenhausen, which he reached at
two o’clock in the morning. George was asleep when Clarendon arrived,
but the envoy dared to penetrate into his chamber, and, falling on his
knees by the bedside, “acquainted his Majesty that so great a diadem
was fallen to him,” and asked his commands. “He told me I had best stay
till he goes, and then I was dismissed.”[45]
George’s curtness is explained by the fact that he had heard the great
news already. Eager though Clarendon was, another had been before him.
On August 1st Bothmar had despatched his secretary, Godike, in hot
haste to Hanover, who had reached Herrenhausen earlier the same evening
(August 5th). Still, Clarendon could claim the honour of being the
first Englishman to bend the knee to King George. It availed him little
in the future, for George never forgave him his “plain speaking,” and
Clarendon, finding all avenues of public advancement closed to him,
retired into private life.
Lord Dorset arrived at Hanover the next day, bringing the news of
George the First’s proclamation and despatches from the Lords of the
Regency informing the King that a fleet had been sent to escort him
from Holland to England, where his loyal subjects were impatiently
awaiting his arrival. Soon Hanover was thronged with English, all
hastening to pay their homage to the risen sun of Hanover, and to
breathe assurances of loyalty and devotion. George received them and
their homage with stolid indifference. He showed no exultation at his
accession to the mighty throne of England, and was careful not to
commit himself by word or deed. His policy at this time was guided,
not by anything that the Lords of the Regency might say or do, but by
the secret despatches which his trusted agent, Bothmar, was forwarding
him from England. Had Bothmar informed him that his proclamation was
other than peaceable, or that rebellion was imminent, it is probable
that George would never have quitted Hanover. But as he was apparently
proclaimed with acclamation, there was no help for it but to go. “The
late King, I am fully persuaded,” writes Dean Lockier soon after the
death of George the First, “would never have stirred a step if there
had been any strong opposition.”
George Augustus and Caroline had shown themselves eager to go to
England, but when the great news came, they were careful to dissemble
their eagerness, lest the King, mindful of their intrigues, should take
it into his head to leave them behind at Hanover. Apparently he came to
the conclusion that they would be less dangerous if he took them with
him; so he commanded George Augustus to make ready to depart with him,
and told Caroline to follow a month later with all her children except
the eldest, Prince Frederick Louis. Leibniz hurried back from Vienna
on hearing of Anne’s death, and prayed hard to go to England, but he
was ordered to stay at Hanover and finish his history of the Brunswick
princes. This was a bitter disappointment, and in vain Caroline pleaded
for him. The King knew that she and the late Electress had employed
him in their intrigues, and he was determined to leave so dangerous
an adherent behind. Leibniz had sore reason to regret the loss of the
Electress Sophia.
If his loyal subjects in England were impatient to receive him, the
King was not equally impatient to make their acquaintance. He had
a good deal to do at Hanover before leaving, and he refused to be
hurried, however urgent English affairs might be. He conferred some
parting favours on his beloved electorate, and vested its government in
a council presided over by his brother, Ernest Augustus. George left
Hanover with regret, comforting his bereaved subjects with assurances
that he would come back as soon as he possibly could, and that he would
always have their interest at heart. Both of these promises he kept--at
the expense of England.
A month after the Queen’s death the new King departed for the Hague,
without any ceremony. He took with him a train of Hanoverians,
including Bernstorff, his Prime Minister, and Robethon, a councillor,
two Turks, Mustapha and Mahomet, and his two mistresses, Schulemburg
and Kielmansegge. The former was even more reluctant than her master
to quit Hanover, and feared for the King’s safety. But George consoled
her with the grim assurance that “in England all the king-killers are
on my side,” and like the others she came to regard England as a land
of promise wherein she might enrich herself. Kielmansegge was eager to
go to England, but she did not find it so easy, as she was detained at
Hanover by her debts, which George would not pay. After some difficulty
she managed to pacify her creditors by promises of the gold she would
send them from his Majesty’s new dominions; they let her go, and she
caught up the King at the Hague. The Countess Platen did not accompany
him. Lady Mary Wortley Montagu says that this was due to the enmity of
Bernstorff, who hated her because she had obtained the post of cofferer
for her favourite, the younger Craggs. “Bernstorff was afraid that
she might meddle in the disposition of places that he was willing to
keep in his own hands, and he represented to the King that the Roman
Catholic religion that she professed was an insuperable bar to her
appearance in the Court of England, at least so early; but he gave her
private hopes that things might be so managed as to make her admittance
easy, when the King was settled in his new dominions.”
George was warmly welcomed at the Hague, where he stayed a fortnight,
transacting business, receiving Ministers and Ambassadors, and waiting
for the remainder of his Hanoverian suite to join him. At the Hague
he determined that Bolingbroke should be dismissed from all his
offices, and appointed Lord Townshend Secretary of State in his place.
On September 16th George embarked at Oranje Polder, in the yacht
_Peregrine_, and, accompanied by a squadron of twenty ships, set sail
for England.
FOOTNOTES TO BOOK I, CHAPTER VI:
[32] Macpherson Stuart Papers, vol. ii.
[33] Letter of James to Queen Anne, May, 1711. In this letter he
styles himself “The Chevalier St. George”. It is to be noted that he
does not speak of the Electress Sophia as a foreigner, but only of her
descendants.
[34] Letter of Elizabeth Charlotte, Duchess of Orleans, to the
Electress Sophia, 12th January, 1714.
[35] Despatch of Bromley to Harley, 16th April, 1714.
[36] Harley’s letter, 11th May, 1714.
[37] Memorial of the Electress Dowager of Brunswick-Lüneburg, and the
Elector of Hanover to Queen Anne, 4th May, 1714.
[38] This would apply to the Elector, the Electoral Prince, Prince
Ernest Augustus, brother of the Elector, and the young Prince
Frederick, son of the Electoral Prince. It would exclude Prince
Maximilian, brother of the Elector, who had become a Roman Catholic.
[39] Letter of Leibniz to the Electoral Princess Caroline, Vienna, 24th
May, 1714.
[40] The Electoral Princess Caroline to Leibniz, Hanover, 7/17th June,
1714.
[41] D’Alais’s Despatch (translation), Hanover, 12th June, 1714. This
has not before been published.
[42] The Queen’s Answer to the Memorial of their Electoral Highnesses
the late Electress Dowager and the Elector of Hanover, June, 1714.
[43] Clarendon’s Despatch, Hanover, 7th August, 1714. The Elector’s
words are translated from the French.
[44] Clarendon’s Despatch, Hanover, 10th August, 1714.
[45] Clarendon’s Despatch, 10/17th August, 1714.
BOOK II.
PRINCESS OF WALES.
CHAPTER I.
THE COMING OF THE KING.
1714.
George the First landed at Greenwich on Saturday, September 18th, 1714,
at six o’clock in the evening. The arrival of the royal yacht was
celebrated by the booming of guns, the ringing of bells, the flying
of flags, and the cheers of a vast crowd of people, who had assembled
along the riverside. A great number of privy councillors and lords,
spiritual and temporal, hurried down to Greenwich, eager to kneel in
the mud, if need be, and kiss the hand of the new sovereign. This was
not the first visit of George to England; he had come here thirty-four
years before, as a suitor for the hand of Queen Anne, then Princess
Anne of York, whose throne he was now to fill. On that occasion his
barque was left stranded all night at Greenwich, and no one was sent
from Charles the Second’s court to meet him or bid him welcome. If he
had any sense of the irony of events, he must have been struck by the
contrast between then and now, when he landed on the same spot, and
gazed at the servile crowd of place-hunters who elbowed and jostled
their way into the royal presence. Tories and Whigs were there, and
Jacobites too, all fervent in their expressions of loyalty, which
George knew how to value for what they were worth. He wished them and
their lip service far away, for he was both tired and cross; he had
had a rough voyage, and the yacht had been detained some hours off
Gravesend by a thick fog. He dismissed them all with scant ceremony and
went to bed.
The next day, Sunday, King George held his first levée, at which he
particularly noticed Marlborough and the Whig Lords, but ignored
Ormonde and Lord Chancellor Harcourt altogether, and barely noticed
Oxford, “of whom your Majesty has heard me speak,” said Dorset in
presenting him. Bolingbroke was not received at all. The Whigs were
jubilant; it was evident that the King had no intention of conciliating
the Tories. As it was Sunday, a great many citizens came down from
London by road and water to catch a glimpse of the new King, and in
the afternoon a large crowd assembled outside the palace of Greenwich
and cheered for hours. To quote one of the journals of the day: “His
Majesty and the Prince were graciously pleased to expose themselves
some time at the windows of their palace to satisfy the impatient
curiosity of the King’s loving subjects”.[46]
On the morrow, Monday, George the First made his public entry into
London, and his “loving subjects” had ample opportunity of seeing
their Sovereign from Hanover, whose “princely virtues,” in the words
of the Address of the loyal Commons, “gave them a certain prospect
of future happiness”. It was king’s weather. The September sun was
shining brightly when at two o’clock in the afternoon the procession
set out from Greenwich Park. It was not a military procession after
the manner of royal pageants in more recent years, though a certain
number of soldiers took part in it, but it was an imposing procession,
and more representative of the nation than any military display that
could have been devised. In it the order of precedence set forth by the
Heralds’ Office was strictly followed. The coaches of esquires came
first, but as no esquire was permitted to take part in the procession
who could not afford a coach drawn by six horses and emblazoned with
his arms, it could not fully represent the untitled aristocracy of
England. Then followed the knights bachelors in their coaches, with
panels painted yellow in compliment to the King, though in truth he was
of a very different calibre to the last foreign monarch who affected
that colour, William of Orange. Then came the Solicitor-General and
the Attorney-General, and after them the baronets and younger sons
of barons and viscounts. Then followed the majesty of the law as
represented by the Barons of the Exchequer, his Majesty’s Judges, the
Lord Chief Justice, and the Master of the Rolls. The Privy Councillors,
such as were not noble, came next, and then the eldest sons of barons,
the younger sons of earls, the eldest sons of viscounts, and, all by
himself, the Speaker of the House of Commons, in wig and gown. The
barons and the bishops came next, fully robed, followed by the younger
sons of dukes, the eldest sons of marquesses, the earls, the Lord
Steward, the two lords who jointly held the office of Earl Marshal, the
eldest sons of dukes, the marquesses, the Lord Great Chamberlain, the
dukes, the Lord Chamberlain, the Lord President of the Council, the
Lord High Treasurer, the Archbishop of York and the Lord Chancellor.
From some unexplained cause the Archbishop of Canterbury was absent.
Then, the climax and focus of all this splendour, came King George
himself and Prince George Augustus in an enormous glass coach,
decorated with gold, emblazoned with the royal arms, and drawn by eight
horses with postillions. The Duke of Northumberland, the Gold Staff,
and Lord Dorset, who had now been made a gentleman of the bedchamber,
were on the front seat. The King leaned forward and bowed to the
cheering crowds from time to time, with his hand upon his heart, but
his countenance showed never a smile. The Prince, on the other hand,
was all smiles, but having been commanded by his royal sire not to
bow, he had perforce to sit upright, and content himself with smiling.
Immediately after the royal coach came other coaches bearing the King’s
suite of faithful Hanoverians, including his two mistresses _en titre_,
Schulemburg and Kielmansegge, whose quaint appearance was the signal of
some ribald remarks from the mob, which, fortunately for the German
ladies, they did not understand. The whole of the way was lined with
cheering crowds, and men and boys climbed up the trees along the route
to wave flags and shout “God save the King”.
As the procession entered London cannon roared from the Tower. There
was a temporary halt in Southwark, where the Lord Mayor and City
Fathers, in brave array, were drawn up to meet the King. The Recorder
stepped up to the royal coach and read a long speech, in which he
assured his Majesty of the impatience with which the citizens of
London, and his subjects generally, awaited “his Royal presence
amongst them to secure those invaluable blessings which they promised
themselves from a Prince of the most illustrious merit”. The King
listened stolidly, and bowed his head from time to time, or gave
utterance to a grunt, which presumably was intended to convey the royal
approval, but as George understood barely a word of English, the loyal
address could hardly have been intelligible to him. The procession
then moved slowly over London Bridge, through the City, by St. Paul’s,
where four thousand children sang “God save the King,” and so wended
its way to St. James’s. The roadway was lined with troops, and people
looked down from windows and balconies, shouted and threw flowers;
flags waved and draperies hung down from nearly every house, triumphal
arches crossed the streets, the bells of the churches were ringing, and
the fountains ran with wine. But the King throughout the day remained
stolid and unmoved; the English crowd might shout for King George as
loud as they pleased, but he knew full well in his heart that, given
the same show and a general holiday, they would have shouted as loud
for King James.
It was eight o’clock in the evening before the procession broke up at
St. James’s Palace, and even then the festivities were not over, for
bonfires were lighted in the streets and squares, oxen roasted whole,
and barrels of beer broached for the people, who enjoyed themselves
in high good humour until the small hours of the morning. The day was
not to end without some blood being spilled. A dispute took place
that night at St. James’s between one Aldworth, the Tory member of
Parliament for Windsor, and Colonel Chudleigh, a truculent Whig. The
colonel called Aldworth, who had been in the royal procession, a
Jacobite. Aldworth resented this as an insult, and, both being the
worse for wine, the quarrel grew. Nothing would settle it but to fight
a duel with swords, and the pair set off at once with seconds to
Marylebone Fields. Aldworth was killed, “which is no great wonder,”
writes an eye-witness, “for he had such a weakness in both his arms
that he could not stretch them, and this from being a child it is
suppos’d not to be a secret to Chudleigh”.[47]
The King and Prince slept that night in St. James’s Palace. Did the
ghosts of their Stuart ancestors mock their slumbers?
The next day King George held a levée, which was largely attended, and
the day after he presided over a meeting of the Privy Council, when
George Augustus was created Prince of Wales. In the patent the King
declared that his “most dear son is a Prince whose eminent filial piety
hath always endeared him to us”. Yet, though the Prince was nominally
a member of the Privy Council, the King was careful not to allow him
the slightest influence in political affairs, or to admit him to his
confidence or to that of his Ministers.
We get glimpses of the King during the first few weeks of his reign in
contemporary letters of the period. We find him and the Prince supping
with the Duke of Marlborough, whose levées were more largely attended
than ever, and whose popularity was far greater than that of his royal
guests. The duke improved the occasion by offering to sell the Prince
of Wales Marlborough House, and showed him how easily it might be
joined to St. James’s Palace by a gallery; the King would not hear of
it.[48] We also find the King supping at Madame Kielmansegge’s with
Lady Cowper, for whom he evinced undisguised, if not altogether proper
admiration, and the lovely Duchess of Shrewsbury, whose conversation,
if we may believe Lady Cowper, “though she had a wonderful art of
entertaining and diverting people, would sometimes exceed the bounds
of decency”. On this occasion she entertained his Majesty by mocking
the way the King of France ate, telling him that he ate twenty things
at a meal, and ticking them off on her fingers. Whereupon the astute
Lady Cowper said: “Sire, the duchess forgets that he eats a good deal
more than that”. “What does he eat, then?” said the King. “Sire,” Lady
Cowper answered, “he devours his people, and if Providence had not led
your Majesty to the throne, he would be devouring us also.” Whereupon
the King turned to the duchess and said, “Did you hear what she said?”
and he did Lady Cowper the honour of repeating her words to many
people, which made the Duchess of Shrewsbury very jealous.
The Duchess of Shrewsbury was by birth an Italian, the Marchesa
Paleotti, and scandal said that she had been the duke’s mistress before
she became his wife. The Duchess of Marlborough made many slighting
remarks about her when she first appeared at Queen Anne’s Court, where
she was coldly received. But after the Hanoverian accession she came to
the front and stood high in the favour of King George, who loved a lady
who was at once lively and broad in her conversation. Lady Wentworth
declared that “the Duchess of Shrewsbury will devour the King, for she
will not let any one speak to him but herself, and she says she rivals
Madame Kielmansegge”. Be that as it may, the King found great pleasure
in her society, and often went to her little supper parties to play
“sixpenny ombre”. She had a great advantage over the English ladies
in that she could speak admirable French. The King later obtained for
her a post in the household of the Princess of Wales, not without some
reluctance on the part of the Princess.
The King lost no time in forming his Government. All the members,
with the possible exception of Lord Nottingham, the President of the
Council, who, despite his leaning to High Church principles, had
long been identified with the Whigs, were of the Whig party. Lord
Townshend was confirmed in Bolingbroke’s place as chief Secretary of
State, and must henceforth be regarded as Prime Minister. He was not
a statesman of first-rate ability, but he was a just man and free
from the prevailing taint of corruption; his considerable position
among the Whigs had been strengthened by his marriage with Robert
Walpole’s sister. Robert Walpole was given the minor appointment of
Paymaster-General to the Forces, but he was promoted the following
year to the post of First Lord of the Treasury and Chancellor of the
Exchequer. The second Secretary of State, James Stanhope (afterwards
Earl Stanhope), was a much stronger personality than Townshend; he had
shown himself a dashing soldier, and he was an accomplished scholar.
These three men were the dominant Ministers in the Government. The
Duke of Shrewsbury, who had been more instrumental than any man in
England in bringing George over from Hanover, resigned the Treasurer’s
staff, and the Treasury was placed in commission, with Lord Halifax
at its head. Shrewsbury was appointed Lord Chamberlain, Lord Cowper
became Lord Chancellor, and the Duke of Argyll commander of the forces
in Scotland. Marlborough was again entrusted with the offices of
Commander-in-Chief and Master of the Ordnance; the King was afraid to
overlook him, but it was evident that he did not trust him, and so
gave him only the shadow of power. Events showed that his instinct was
right, for even now, while holding high office under the Hanoverian
dynasty, Marlborough lent a large sum of money to James, which must
materially have helped forward the Jacobite rising a year later. Like
most English politicians of that day, he was uncertain whether Stuart
or Guelph would ultimately triumph, and, having no fixed principles, he
determined to be well with both sides.
Perhaps the most important of the King’s actions at this time was his
selection of seven great officers of state, to form the Cabinet Council
of the Sovereign. It created a precedent which has lasted to this
day, though now the Cabinet, swollen in numbers, has lost much of its
former collective authority. Another and equally important precedent
was set by George the First. At his first council, he frankly told his
Ministers that he knew very little about the English Constitution, and
he should therefore place himself entirely in their hands, and govern
through them. “Then,” he added, “you will become completely answerable
for everything I do.” In pursuance of this policy, and also because
he could speak no English, the King determined not to preside over the
meetings of his council, as all previous English monarchs had done, and
from the beginning of his reign until now, Cabinet Councils have been
held without the presence of the Sovereign. Of course the King retained
some influence in the councils of the realm, especially with regard
to foreign policy, but this power was exercised by George the First,
largely by indirect methods, on which we shall presently have occasion
to dwell.
The King, however, showed himself by no means a man to be ignored;
he was a shrewd if cynical judge of character, and though by no
means clever, he avoided many pitfalls into which a more brilliant
man might have fallen. He had always to be reckoned with. He kept
the appointments in his own hands, and his care to exclude the great
Whig Lords from his Government, in favour of younger men with less
influence, showed that he was determined not to be dictated to. But
his policy of forming his first Administration entirely of Whigs
made him of necessity the King, not of the whole nation, but of a
faction. George the First was not a great statesman, and his little
knowledge of English affairs made it difficult for him to include
in his first Government some of the more moderate among the Tories.
Coalition Governments had failed under William the Third and Anne, and
were hardly likely to succeed under George the First. But the total
exclusion of the Tories from office undoubtedly had a bad effect upon
the nation at large. There were many Tories who were loyal to the
Hanoverian succession; there were others who were determined to uphold
the monarchy and the Church, even though the monarch was a German
prince with, to them, scarce a shadow of title to the throne. These
men, who represented a large and influential class of the community,
were now left without any voice in the councils of the nation. The
immediate result was to drive many waverers over to Jacobitism, and to
render others apathetic in upholding the new dynasty.
Many office-seekers at first paid their court to the Prince of
Wales, but they soon perceived that the King allowed him no voice in
appointments, except the purely personal ones of his own household.
The Prince thus early found interested friends among the English
nobility who were willing to urge his claims to a larger share in the
regality--for a consideration. His love of intrigue induced him to lend
a ready ear, and he soon had a trustworthy ally in the person of his
consort Caroline, who had now set out from Hanover.
“The Princess, Consort to his Royal Highness the Prince of Wales,”
writes a Hanoverian gazette, “having received letters from the Prince
whereby he desires her to follow him immediately to England, has
resolved to send her baggage forward next Saturday for Holland, and on
Monday following two of the Princesses, her daughters, will set out at
the Hague, and she herself will depart Thursday following, in order
to go to England. The Duchess of Celle is expected at Herrenhausen
to-morrow night, and the Duchess of Wolfenbüttel the next day, to take
their leave of her Royal Highness.”[49]
Caroline arrived at the Hague a few days later, and was formally
received by the Earls of Strafford and Albemarle and their countesses,
and by the deputies who were appointed by the States of Holland to
welcome her and attend her during her stay. She was accompanied by two
of her children, the Princesses Anne and Amelia; the youngest, Princess
Caroline, had been left behind on account of indisposition, and her
eldest child, Prince Frederick, by command of the King remained at
Hanover.
Caroline was in the highest spirits at the realisation of her hopes,
and began with zest to play her new rôle of Princess of Wales. That
night, tired from her long journey, she supped in private, but the
next morning she received a deputation from the States-General, and in
the afternoon, the weather being fine, she drove in the Voorhout, or
fashionable promenade, attended by a numerous train of coaches. In the
evening the Princess held a drawing-room, which was largely attended
by all the persons of distinction at the Hague. On the morrow she gave
audience to the French Ambassador and other foreign ministers, and to
many lords and ladies, who, we are told, “could not enough applaud the
agreeable reception they found, and the admirable presence of mind of
her Royal Highness. The two Princesses, her daughters, were not less
the subject of admiration for the excellent behaviour they showed,
much above what their age could promise, one being but three and a half
and the other but five years old.”[50]
The Princess of Wales stayed at the Hague three days, and then set
out for Rotterdam, Lord Strafford, the English envoy at the Hague,
attending her part of the way. At Rotterdam the Princess embarked
on the royal yacht, _Mary_, and, escorted by a squadron of English
men-of-war, set sail for England. Her coming was eagerly awaited in
London. To quote again: “By the favourable wind since the embarkation
of Madam the Princess of Wales, it is not doubted that her Royal
Highness, with the Princesses, her daughters, will soon safely arrive.
The whole conversation of the town turns upon the charms, sweetness and
good manner of this excellent princess, whose generous treatment of
everybody, who has had the honour to approach her, is such that none
have come from her without being obliged by some particular expression
of her favour.”[51]
The Princess of Wales landed at Margate at four o’clock on the morning
of October 15th, and was met there by the Prince, who, accompanied by
the Duke of Somerset and the Duke of Argyll, had travelled by coach
from London to welcome her. The Prince and Princess slept that night at
Rochester, and on Wednesday, in the afternoon, they made a progress
through the city of London to St. James’s. The Tower guns were fired as
they came over London Bridge, and those in the park when they arrived
at St. James’s Palace. At night there were illuminations and bonfires,
and other demonstrations of joy.
It was at once made manifest that the policy of the Prince and Princess
of Wales was to please everybody. They were ready of access, and
courteous to all with whom they came into contact. “I find all backward
in speaking to the King, but ready enough to speak to the Prince,”
writes Peter Wentworth.[52] The night after her arrival the Princess
made her first appearance at the English Court. Wentworth writes:
“The Princess came into the drawing-room at seven o’clock and stayed
until ten. There was a basset table and ombre tables, but the Princess
sitting down to piquet, all the company flocked about to that table and
the others were not used.” She charmed all who were presented to her
by her grace and affability. The next morning the Prince and Princess
took a walk round St. James’s Park, with the Duchess of Bolton, the
Duchess of Shrewsbury and Lady Nottingham in attendance. The Mall was
then the fashionable promenade, and they were followed by a large
concourse of people. It was jealously noted that the Princess talked
much to Lady Nottingham, whose High Church views were well known, and
it was rumoured that she would make her the governess of her children,
a post for which Lady Nottingham must surely have been qualified by
experience, as she had given birth to no less than thirty children of
her own. For the next few days the Princess of Wales appeared at the
drawing-rooms every evening, and received in her own apartments as
well; indeed she complained that she was so beset that she had scarcely
time to get her clothes together for the coronation.
[Illustration: The Ceremony of the CHAMPION of ENGLAND giving the
Challenge at the Coronation]
The coronation of George the First took place on October 20th, 1714,
and was largely attended, it being remarked that no such a gathering
of lords, spiritual and temporal, had been seen since the Conquest.
As the ceremony marked the inauguration of a new line of kings, it
was determined to celebrate it with unusual splendour. The Jacobites
prayed for rain, but the day broke fine and cloudless. The King drove
down to Westminster in a State coach early in the morning, and retired
to the Court of Wards until the peers and Court officials were put in
order by the heralds. They then came in long procession to Westminster
Hall, where George the First received them seated under a canopy of
state. The sword and spurs were presented to the King, the crown and
other regalia, the Bible, chalice and paten, and were then delivered to
the lords and bishops appointed to carry them. The procession to the
Abbey was formed in order of precedence. The Prince of Wales followed
the Lord Great Chamberlain, wearing his robes of crimson velvet,
furred with ermine; his coronet and cap were borne before him on a
crimson velvet cushion. No place was found in the procession for the
Princess of Wales, but a chair was placed for her in the Abbey, under
a canopy near the sacrarium. The King walked immediately after the
officials bearing the regalia, in his royal robes of crimson velvet,
lined with ermine, and bordered with gold lace, wearing the collar
of St. George, and on his head the cap of estate of crimson velvet
turned up with ermine and adorned with a circle of gold enriched with
diamonds. He was supported on either side by the Bishops of Durham and
Bath and Wells, and walked under a canopy borne by the Barons of the
Cinque Ports. He was not a majestic figure despite the bravery of his
attire.
When the King arrived at the Abbey, the Archbishop of Canterbury began
the Coronation service with the Recognition. The King stood up in his
chair, and showed himself to the people on every four sides, and the
Archbishop went round the chair, calling out at each corner: “Sirs, I
here present to you King George, the undoubted King of these realms.
Wherefore all you who are come this day to do your homage, are you
willing to do the same?” The people shouted, “God save King George,”
and the trumpets sounded. Then his Majesty made his first oblation, and
the lords who bore the regalia presented them at the altar, the Litany
was sung, and the Communion service proceeded with as far as the Nicene
Creed, when the Bishop of Oxford preached what can only be described
as a fulsome sermon from the text: “This is the day which the Lord
hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it”. After the sermon the
ceremonial proceeded. The King repeated and signed the declaration
against Roman Catholicism, also made at their coronation by William
and Mary, and by Anne, which was the reason of his presence there that
day. He took the coronation oath, in which he swore to the utmost of
his power “to maintain the Laws of God, the true profession of the
Gospel, and the Protestant Reformed Religion established by Law”. This
done, he seated himself in King Edward’s chair, which was placed facing
the altar. He was anointed, presented with the spurs, girt with the
sword, vested with his purple robes, and having received the ring, the
orb and the sceptres, was crowned about two o’clock, amid loud and
repeated acclamations, the drums beating, the trumpets sounding, and
the cannon blaring. The Prince of Wales and the other peers then put on
their coronets. The Bible was presented to the King by the Archbishop
of Canterbury, and his Majesty sat on his throne and received the
homage of the Prince of Wales and the lords, spiritual and temporal.
The second oblation was made, the King received the Holy Communion,
and at the close of the office retired to King Edward’s chapel. He was
there revested in his robes of velvet, but now wore his crown, the
procession was re-formed, and he returned to Westminster Hall. The
coronation banquet followed, the King having on his left the Prince of
Wales. It was all over by seven o’clock, when the King returned to St.
James’s.[53]
Several amusing incidents occurred at the coronation of George the
First. It was attended by men of all parties, Tories, Whigs and even
Jacobites were present, and their emotions varied according to their
views. George was crowned “King of France,” and in proof of this
nominal right, two hirelings, a couple of players in fact, attended
to represent the Dukes of Picardy and Normandy. They wore robes of
crimson velvet and ermine, and each held in his hand a cap of cloth
of gold. They did homage to the King with the other peers, and when
the nobles put their coronets on their heads, the sham dukes clapped
their caps on too. This part of the performance afforded much amusement
to the Jacobites, who remarked derisively that the sham peers were
worthy of the sham king. On the other hand, Lady Cowper, who was a
thoroughgoing Whig, writes: “I never was so affected with joy in all
my life; it brought tears into my eyes, and I hope I shall never
forget the blessing of seeing our holy religion preserved, as well as
our liberties and properties”. But her pious joy did not prevent her
commenting on the ill-behaviour of her rival, Lady Nottingham, who, not
content with pushing Lady Cowper aside, taking her place and forcing
her to mount the pulpit stairs in order to see, “when the Litany was
to be sung, broke from behind the rest of the company, where she was
placed, and knelt down before them all, though none of the rest did,
facing the King and repeating the Litany. Everybody stared at her, and
I could read in their countenances that they thought she overdid her
High Church part.”[54]
Bolingbroke was present, and did homage to the King, who, not having
seen him before, asked the Lord Chamberlain who he was, whereupon
Bolingbroke turned round, faced the throne, and made three very low
obeisances. He was more complaisant than many of the Jacobite peers
and peeresses, who, though they were present, could hardly conceal
their feelings. For instance, when the Archbishop went round the throne
demanding the consent of the people, Lady Dorchester, who was an ardent
Jacobite (for she had been mistress of James the Second, and raised to
the peerage as the price of her dishonour), asked the lady next her:
“Does the old fool think anybody here will say ‘no’ to his question,
when there are so many drawn swords?” Owing to the King’s ignorance of
English, and to the high officials standing near him knowing neither
German nor French, the ceremonies incident upon his coronation had to
be explained to him through the medium of such Latin as they could
muster. This circumstance gave rise to the jest that much bad language
passed between the King and his Ministers on the day of his coronation.
The King’s repetition of the anti-Catholic declaration was so impaired
by his German accent as to be unintelligible, and he might have been
protesting against something quite different for all that loyal
Protestants could know. But if George did not understand the English
language, he understood who were his enemies, and when Bishop Atterbury
came forward, as in duty bound, to stand by the canopy, the King
roughly repulsed him. The King had hitherto shown stolid indifference
to everything prepared in his honour, determined not to be surprised
into any expression of admiration, but when the peers shouted and put
on their coronets, even his German phlegm was moved, and he declared
that it reminded him of the Day of Judgment.
It is probable that the new-born interest in the House of Hanover
reached its height at George the First’s coronation, but even on that
day all was not quite harmony. There were Jacobite riots in Bristol,
Birmingham and Norwich. In London, though all passed off quietly, the
loyalty of the mob showed signs of change; affronts were offered to the
King, and shouts were heard of “Damn King George”. If we may believe
Baron Pöllnitz, there was one present at Westminster Hall who openly
refused to acknowledge George the First as king on the very day of his
coronation. When the champion, armed from head to foot in mail, rode
into the banqueting hall, and, in a loud voice, challenged any person
who did not acknowledge George as King of England, a woman threw down
her glove, and cried that his Majesty King James the Third was the only
lawful owner of the crown, and the Elector of Hanover was a usurper.
But this story is unsupported by any other authority. Everything goes
to show that for the first few months, until the English people came to
know more of their Hanoverian King, there was little open opposition.
The Jacobites were for the moment dumfoundered by the ease and
smoothness of the change, while the Tories, divided amongst themselves,
were in hopeless confusion. Even Louis the Fourteenth, that bulwark of
Jacobite hopes, acknowledged George as King of England. The great mass
of the nation acquiesced in the new _régime_, but without enthusiasm,
and were willing to give it a fair trial. But the Whigs made amends
for the lack of general enthusiasm, and were jubilant at the turn of
events, which had exceeded their most sanguine hopes.
A month or two later the Government appointed “A day of public
thanksgiving for his Majesty’s happy and peaceable accession to the
crown,” and the King, with the Prince and Princess of Wales, and all
the great officers of state, attended a special service in St. Paul’s
Cathedral, where a _Te Deum_ was sung and a sermon preached by the
Bishop of Gloucester. Everything passed off harmoniously, and the royal
procession was loudly acclaimed on its way to and from St. Paul’s.
Truly the stars in their courses were fighting for the House of Hanover.
FOOTNOTES TO BOOK II, CHAPTER I:
[46] _The Weekly Journal_, 22nd September, 1714.
[47] Lord Berkeley of Stratton to Lord Strafford, 24th September, 1714.
Wentworth Papers.
[48] Wentworth Papers.
[49] The _Leiden Gazette_, Hanover, 29th October, 1714.
[50] _The Daily Courant_, 19th October, 1714.
[51] _Ibid._, 12th October, 1714.
[52] Peter Wentworth to Lord Strafford, 18th October, 1714.
[53] A long and detailed account of the coronation of George I. is
given in _The Political State of Great Britain_, vol. viii., pp. 347
_et seq._, from which these particulars are taken.
[54] Lady Cowper’s Diary.