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This version of the text cannot represent certain typographical effects.
Italics are delimited with the ‘_’ character as _italic_. Superscrtiped
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Footnotes have been renumbered sequentially, and have been moved to
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Minor errors, attributable to the printer, have been corrected. Please
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THE LOVE OF AN UNCROWNED QUEEN
[Illustration:
SOPHIE DOROTHEA.
_From a painting formerly at Ahlden._
]
THE LOVE OF AN
UNCROWNED QUEEN
SOPHIE DOROTHEA, _CONSORT OF_
GEORGE I., and her Correspondence with
PHILIP CHRISTOPHER COUNT KÖNIGSMARCK (_Now
first published from the originals_)
BY
W. H. WILKINS
_M.A._ (_Clare College, Cambridge_), _F.S.A._
_Author of “Caroline the Illustrious, Queen Consort of George II.”_
_NEW AND REVISED EDITION_
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS
LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON
NEW YORK AND BOMBAY
1903
PREFACE TO THE REVISED EDITION.
When this book was first published in April, 1900, I had no idea that it
contained any of the elements of popularity. The subject which it treats
had been of interest with me for years, and my researches were made from
love of the work. In my quest I followed as closely as possible the
footsteps of Sophie Dorothea during her life. I visited Celle where she
was born, Hanover where she lived during her unhappy marriage, and
Ahlden where for more than thirty years she was imprisoned. To Hanover I
went again and again, and in connection with this book I also visited
Berlin and Dresden. But it was not until six years ago, in 1897, that I
lighted by chance (while turning over old volumes in a second-hand
bookshop at Leipzig) upon the fact that an unpublished correspondence
between Sophie Dorothea and Königsmarck existed. For a long time I could
not find where these letters were deposited, and went in vain search to
Upsala, but at last I learned that they were reposing in the library of
the little university of Lund in Sweden. To Lund accordingly I went, and
with the permission of the university authorities carefully examined the
manuscripts. The result of my investigations is described at length in
the chapter on “The History and Authenticity of the Letters”. It was the
finding of these letters which determined me to write this book; it is
built up around them.
Even when the book was written I published it with misgiving, thinking
it would have little interest for any except the few who love the
untrodden paths and byeways of history. But, contrary to expectation,
the book attracted a good deal of attention both in England and America.
In France and Germany too it called forth comment, and in a short time
several editions were exhausted, until at last it ran out of print.
By that time I had learned something from my critics, more especially
from those in Germany, and I determined not to issue another edition,
until I had the opportunity of testing what I had written in the light
of further historical research. I was then working at another book,
_Caroline the Illustrious, Queen Consort of George II._, which also
treats of the Hanoverian period, at a little later date, and until that
book was finished, I had not the leisure to follow up fresh clues in
connection with this one. Hence the publication of this revised edition
has been delayed, for the book has been out of print some little time.
Another consideration has also weighed with me, namely the fact, of
which I was ignorant when the first edition was published, that a
further instalment of the correspondence between Sophie Dorothea and
Königsmarck is preserved in the Secret State Archives at Berlin. The
letters herein are all from Lund, and found their way into Sweden
through Amalie, Countess Lewenhaupt, Königsmarck’s sister, who married a
Swedish nobleman and eventually settled in Sweden. But there are others.
It was known that, after the catastrophe of July 1, 1694, the Hanoverian
Government seized many of the letters that had passed between the
lovers, and these were used against the Princess with crushing effect,
to bring about her divorce on Hanover’s own terms. As Leibniz says,
“They would never have believed at Celle that she was so guilty had not
her letters been produced”.[1] The fate of these letters has long been a
mystery. It was known that Duke George William wished them to be sent to
Celle to be destroyed, but the Elector Ernest Augustus refused and kept
them at Hanover. It was afterwards rumoured that George II., on his
first visit to Hanover after his accession to the English throne, burned
them with his own hands, to conceal all traces of his mother’s disgrace,
but the rumour was unfounded. It now appears that all, or nearly all, of
them are in existence, and some are those preserved in the Secret State
Archives of Berlin.
-----
Footnote 1:
Written by Leibniz on the margin of an account of the divorce sent by
the Duchess of Orleans to the Electress Sophia (_vide_ Köcher’s _Hist.
Zeitschrift_, vol. xlviii., p. 233, note).
-----
The exact way in which these letters reached Berlin is unknown, but they
have been there a long time. According to the Calendar of the Secret
State Archives they were found among the private papers of Frederick the
Great at Sans Souci, after his death. The luckless prisoner of Ahlden
was his grandmother, her daughter, the second Queen of Prussia, was his
mother. It is known that the Queen of Prussia was much interested in the
fate of her unhappy mother, she corresponded with her secretly, and at
one time sought to obtain her release. It is probable, therefore, that
these letters (a part of the incriminating correspondence seized by the
Hanoverian Government) were sent to Berlin by order of George I. to
convince his daughter, the Queen of Prussia, of her mother’s errors and
so disarm her sympathy. After the Queen’s death the letters were not
returned to Hanover; they passed into the hands of Frederick the Great,
and thence into the safe keeping of the Berlin State Archives.
The correspondence between Sophie Dorothea and Königsmarck is very
voluminous. The greater part of it (six hundred and seventy-nine sheets,
one hundred and ninety-nine from the Princess and four hundred and
eighty from Königsmarck) is preserved in the university library of Lund.
The letters at Berlin number sixty-five sheets, fifteen from the
Princess and fifty from Königsmarck. It is certain that the letters at
Berlin and those at Lund spring from the same source, the exact
similarity of the writing, the use of the same cypher and the same
nicknames, the identity of sentiment and style, and the fact that some
of the Berlin letters seem to be answers to some of those at Lund and
_vice versa_, prove this beyond doubt. Clearly they stand or fall
together. Applying to the Berlin letters the same tests as applied to
those at Lund, they yield absolutely the same results.
The Berlin letters afford little historical interest outside the
politics of the petty courts of Hanover and Celle. Like those at Lund
they are alternately full of jealous reproaches and passionate avowals
of love. They shed no fresh light on the events immediately preceding
the catastrophe of July 1, 1694, for they appear to be written prior to
the visit Königsmarck made to Dresden before he returned to Hanover for
the last time. Letters must have passed between the lovers in the months
preceding the tragedy, and these are still needed to make the
correspondence complete. But they are not at Berlin, they are not at
Lund, they are not at Hanover. The question remains, Where are they?
Last summer, when in Germany, I learned that more love-letters of Sophie
Dorothea and Königsmarck still existed, over and above those at Lund and
Berlin. I learned this important fact from a trustworthy source which I
am not permitted at present to make public. These remaining letters were
preserved at Hanover until 1866, not in the Royal Archives, but among
the Guelph domestic papers at Herrenhausen. When the late King of
Hanover, George V., was wrongfully despoiled of his kingdom by Prussia,
and forced to live in exile, he rightly took his family papers with him
into Austria. Among those papers was some of the correspondence between
his ancestress Sophie Dorothea and Königsmarck. These letters are now in
the possession of his son, the Duke of Cumberland, _de jure_ King of
Hanover, at Gmünden. What their contents are I am unable to say, but it
is probable that they contain the missing links wanted to make the chain
of the correspondence complete. It is my desire some day to translate
the whole correspondence at Lund, at Berlin, and at Gmünden, and arrange
it in chronological order with the aid of first-hand documentary
evidence drawn from other sources. (But this, of course, depends upon
the necessary permission being granted.) For this reason, and because
they shed no fresh light on the tragedy, I have not given herein any of
the Berlin letters. On the contrary, I have omitted from this edition a
few of those letters published in the first, which were merely a
repetition of others; their great similarity of style and sentiment
tended to weary rather than to edify.[2]
-----
Footnote 2:
I have also condensed the later chapters which deal with the death of
the Electress Sophia and the accession of George I. to the English
throne. These events are not strictly germane to the history of Sophie
Dorothea, and moreover I have treated of them much more fully in
_Caroline the Illustrious, Queen Consort of George II._, which may be
regarded as a sequel to this book.
-----
I should like to repeat that this book is largely based upon papers
found in the Hanoverian archives and elsewhere, duly specified in
footnotes. The despatches of Sir William Dutton Colt, of Cresset and of
Poley, English envoys at Hanover during the period under consideration,
and of Stepney, sometime English envoy at Dresden, now preserved in the
State Paper Office, London, have also been drawn upon freely. To this
list of hitherto unpublished documents there remain to be added many
letters from the correspondence at Lund, translated from the French of
the original documents. These have never before been published in
English and (except for a few unimportant extracts in a Swedish book
long since out of print) have never been published in any language. I
may claim to be the first to edit and arrange this correspondence in
something like chronological order, and to compare it with historical
documents of undoubted authenticity with a view to proving its
genuineness.
Every effort was made in the first edition to render this biography as
complete as possible. I have now in the light of subsequent knowledge
revised the text. I find little to add and little to take away. My
additions are chiefly in matters of detail, and will be found in notes
scattered throughout the volume. These notes for the most part either go
to prove further the genuineness of the letters, or to quote fuller
authorities for the text—to specify more clearly what is founded on
first-hand historical evidence, and what is derived from less
trustworthy sources.
In this I should like to acknowledge the help I have derived from my
critics, more especially from the writer of the review of my book in the
_Edinburgh Review_,[3] and the essay by Dr. Robert Geerds, the eminent
German critic and historian in the _Allgemeine Zeitung_.[4]
-----
Footnote 3:
_The Love of an Uncrowned Queen_, _Edinburgh Review_, January, 1901,
No. 395, pp. 56-86.
Footnote 4:
“The Letters of the Duchess of Ahlden and Count Philip Christopher von
Königsmarck,” by Dr. Robert Geerds (Supplement to the _Allgemeine
Zeitung_, 1902, No. 77).
-----
The writer in the _Edinburgh Review_, an expert who has himself examined
the contested letters at Lund, and the admittedly genuine ones at
Hanover, and compared them, says in contravention of a doubt cast on
their genuineness:—
“Allowing for the interval of time and for the difference of
circumstances under which the [Princess’s] love-letters to Königsmarck
and her formal letters to the Electress were respectively written, we
have no hesitation in saying that it is impossible, after placing the
handwritings side by side, to assert that there is no resemblance
between them. We have also had an opportunity of comparing a photograph
of Königsmarck’s abbreviated signature with photographs of genuine
signatures of his preserved at Lund and at Hanover respectively, and no
doubt whatever is left in our mind as to the genuineness of the
(abbreviated) signature in the impugned correspondence.”
And again:—
“After much careful consideration we feel bound to express our belief
that the probability of these letters having been written by Sophie
Dorothea and Königsmarck is a very strong one indeed”....
Dr. Robert Geerds, who has examined and compared the letters at Lund
with those at Berlin as well as Hanover, says:—
“The writing of some of the Lund letters ... corresponds so noticeably
with the Hanoverian writing that it is impossible to doubt they were
written by Sophie Dorothea”.
And again, after reference to my discoveries of the undesigned
coincidences between incidents mentioned in the letters and in Colt’s
despatches:—
“No unprejudiced person can any longer doubt that in this
correspondence, which has been called into question, we have the true
and genuine love-letters of the unfortunate pair whose tragic fate has
met with such universal sympathy”.[5]
-----
Footnote 5:
I quote from these critics because they have examined the letters
themselves and can speak with first-hand knowledge. I do so with more
freedom because they have not been slow in pointing out my
shortcomings. I should also like to express my indebtedness for many
other critical reviews, notably to the _Athenæum_, to Monsieur de
Wyzewa for his essay in the _Revue des deux Mondes_, and to Mr. Andrew
Lang in _Longman’s Magazine_.
-----
I should like to thank Dr. Carl Petersen, Assistant Librarian at Lund
University, for his courtesy and assistance; Count Carl Lewenhaupt
(sometime Swedish and Norwegian Minister in London) for procuring me the
portrait of Aurora Königsmarck, now in the possession of the elder
branch of the Lewenhaupt family; Count C. G. von Rosen for permission to
reproduce the portrait of Philip Christopher Königsmarck; Count
Kielmansegg for allowing me to see Lady Darlington’s patent of peerage
at Gülzow; and Count Erich Kielmansegg for calling my attention to a
slight error in the history of the Lund letters, corrected in this
edition.
As an edition of this book has been published in America without my
knowledge or consent, and as it is, moreover, full of grammatical and
other errors, for which I am not responsible, I take this opportunity of
saying that this is the only authorised edition for sale in America.
In conclusion, I should like to repeat what I wrote in the preface to my
first edition: “The story of the romantic life of this uncrowned Queen
has been shrouded in mystery, and she has been even more misrepresented
than Mary Queen of Scots. Her imprisonment in the lonely castle of
Ahlden was longer and more rigorous than Mary’s captivity in England,
and the assassination of Königsmarck was as dramatic as the murder of
Rizzio.”
W. H. WILKINS.
_March, 1903._
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I. PAGE
THE ROMANCE OF THE PRINCESS’S PARENTAGE 1
CHAPTER II.
THE PROGRESS OF ELÉONORE 13
CHAPTER III.
THE WISDOM OF SERPENTS 25
CHAPTER IV.
PRINCE GEORGE GOES A-WOOING 38
CHAPTER V.
THE SACRIFICE 47
CHAPTER VI.
THE COURT OF HANOVER 59
CHAPTER VII.
THE POWER OF COUNTESS PLATEN 70
CHAPTER VIII.
ENTER KÖNIGSMARCK 82
CHAPTER IX.
PLAYING WITH FIRE 94
CHAPTER X.
THE EMBROIDERED GLOVE 107
CHAPTER XI.
HISTORY AND AUTHENTICITY OF THE LETTERS 118
CHAPTER XII.
THE DAWN OF PASSION 139
CHAPTER XIII.
CROSSING THE RUBICON 156
CHAPTER XIV.
THE PRINCESS’S LETTERS 172
CHAPTER XV.
DOUBTS AND FEARS 189
CHAPTER XVI.
THE BATTLE OF STEINKIRK 204
CHAPTER XVII.
THE VISIT TO WIESBADEN 217
CHAPTER XVIII.
KÖNIGSMARCK RETURNS FROM THE WAR 233
CHAPTER XIX.
THE TRYST AT BROCKHAUSEN 256
CHAPTER XX.
LOVE’S BITTERNESS 277
CHAPTER XXI.
THE CAMPAIGN AGAINST THE DANES 302
CHAPTER XXII.
THE GATHERING STORM 325
CHAPTER XXIII.
THE MURDER OF KÖNIGSMARCK 340
CHAPTER XXIV.
THE RUIN OF THE PRINCESS 352
CHAPTER XXV.
THE DIVORCE 371
CHAPTER XXVI.
THE PRISONER OF AHLDEN 388
CHAPTER XXVII.
THE FLIGHT OF YEARS 405
CHAPTER XXVIII.
CROWN AND GRAVE 421
CHAPTER XXIX.
RETRIBUTION 437
APPENDIX 445
INDEX 447
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
SOPHIE DOROTHEA. _From a painting formerly at Ahlden_ _Frontispiece._
ELÉONORE D’OLBREUSE, DUCHESS OF CELLE. _From a _Facing page_ 8
painting at Herrenhausen_
THE CASTLE OF CELLE ” ” 26
PRINCE GEORGE LOUIS OF HANOVER (AFTERWARDS GEORGE I. ” ” 40
OF ENGLAND). _From a picture at Hanover_
THE ELECTRESS SOPHIA. _Photographed from the statue ” ” 56
in the gardens of Herrenhausen_
THE ALTE PALAIS, HANOVER. _From a photograph by the ” ” 74
Author_
KÖNIGSMARCK. _From the painting at Herrenhausen_ ” ” 94
THE LEINE SCHLOSS, HANOVER ” ” 110
THE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY, LUND, SWEDEN ” ” 128
FACSIMILE OF ONE OF KÖNIGSMARCK’S LETTERS TO THE ” ” 146
PRINCESS. _Photographed from the original manuscript
in the University Library of Lund_
FACSIMILE OF ONE OF SOPHIE DOROTHEA’S LETTERS TO ” ” 174
KÖNIGSMARCK. _Photographed from the original
manuscript in the University Library of Lund_
SOPHIE DOROTHEA. _From a painting formerly at ” ” 190
Ahlden, now at Herrenhausen_
FACSIMILE OF ONE OF THE PRINCESS’S LETTERS TO ” ” 206
KÖNIGSMARCK. _Photographed from the original
manuscript in the University Library at Lund_
PHILIP CHRISTOPHER COUNT KÖNIGSMARCK. _From a painting ” ” 224
in the possession of Count Gustav Lewenhaupt_
THE COUNTESS AURORA KÖNIGSMARCK. _From the painting in ” ” 244
the possession of Count C. G. von Rosen_
HERRENHAUSEN ” ” 270
THE ELECTOR ERNEST AUGUSTUS OF HANOVER. _From an old ” ” 290
print in the British Museum_
THE MURDER OF KÖNIGSMARCK. _From an old print_ ” ” 348
THE CASTLE OF AHLDEN AS IT WAS WHEN SOPHIE DOROTHEA ” ” 362
WAS IMPRISONED THERE. _From an old engraving in the
Castle_
THE CASTLE OF AHLDEN AS IT IS TO-DAY ” ” 376
SOPHIE DOROTHEA’S WING OF THE CASTLE OF AHLDEN. _From ” ” 400
a photograph by the Author_
SOPHIE DOROTHEA, SECOND QUEEN OF PRUSSIA (DAUGHTER OF ” ” 424
SOPHIE DOROTHEA AND GEORGE I.). _From the painting
by Johann L. Hirschmann_
THE CHURCH AT CELLE, WHERE SOPHIE DOROTHEA IS BURIED ” ” 438
THE CASTLE OF OSNABRÜCK ” ” 442
CHAPTER I.
THE ROMANCE OF THE PRINCESS’S PARENTAGE.
Life, like a dome of many coloured glass,
Stains the white radiance of Eternity.
SHELLEY.
Sophie Dorothea of Celle, the uncrowned queen of the first of our
Hanoverian kings, came of the ancient and illustrious family of
Brunswick, which was descended from Henry the Lion, Duke of Bavaria and
Saxony, who, it is interesting to note, married Matilda, eldest daughter
of King Henry II. of England. It is not necessary to dwell upon the
glories of the House of Brunswick, but the immediate ancestry of Sophie
Dorothea may be of interest.
After the Treaty of Westphalia, which was somewhat disastrous to the
Brunswick princes who took part in the Thirty Years War, this family was
divided into two branches, Augustus Duke of Brunswick representing one,
and Frederick Duke of Brunswick-Lüneburg representing the other.
On the death of Augustus, his territories were divided amongst his three
sons, with only one of whom we are concerned, Duke Antony Ulrich of
Wolfenbüttel. It is necessary to mention him, as he played a not
unimportant part in the life of his cousin, Sophie Dorothea of Celle.
From this branch of the family the Dukes of Brunswick are descended, and
it gave another uncrowned queen to England in the person of the
unfortunate Caroline, consort of George IV.
Frederick Duke of Brunswick-Lüneburg died in 1649, leaving the four sons
of his brother, Duke George, his heirs. Of these, the eldest son,
Christian Louis, was given the sovereign principality of Celle, then the
most important; the second son, George William, subsequently the father
of Sophie Dorothea, was given the sovereign principality of Hanover. The
two younger sons, John Frederick and Ernest Augustus, had no territory
at first.
When the four ducal brothers, all young men, entered upon their
inheritance, changes took place in the sedate and simple courts of
Hanover and Celle. Hitherto they had been typical of the petty German
courts in the Middle Ages, untouched as yet by foreign influences.
According to Vehse, at the schloss of Celle meals were served daily in
the great hall, at nine in the morning and at four in the afternoon. The
retainers were summoned to meals by a trumpeter on the tower, and if
they did not appear punctually they had to go without. As they ate, a
page went round “bidding every one be quiet and orderly, forbidding all
swearing, and rudeness, or throwing about of bread, bones, or roast, or
pocketing of the same”. The butler was warned not to permit noble or
simple to enter the cellar; the squires were allowed beer and
“sleep-drinks,” but wine was only served at the Duke’s high table. All
accounts were carefully kept, and bills paid weekly. The court was one
big family, and the Duke was the father of his people. But this
well-ordered household was in the days of the old Duke Christian, a
predecessor of the four young princes who now divided the possessions of
Brunswick-Lüneburg.
The eldest, Duke Christian, settled down to a fairly quiet life at
Celle; “his only fault,” we hear, “was drinking,” a very venial offence
in those days. But the second brother, Duke George William, found life
at Hanover unbearably tedious. He had little liking for the stiff and
monotonous routine of his German court; the simple lives of his subjects
bored him, and their rude manners and coarse habit of living disgusted
him. Though all his life strongly anti-French in his politics, he
belonged to the newer school of German princes and affected the society
and fashions of the French, so much so that on one occasion a French
envoy said to him at his own table: “But, Monseigneur, this is charming;
there is no foreigner here but you”. Though a young man, George William
had already travelled in Italy, and acquired a certain polish of manners
and superficial refinement not usually to be found among German princes
of his time. The first use he made of his freedom was to escape from the
tedium of his uninteresting little principality, and, in company with
his youngest brother, Ernest Augustus, who was then his boon companion,
and largely dependent upon his bounty, he made another tour in Italy,
visiting Milan and Venice. At Venice, then at its zenith, the brothers
plunged into the delights and dissipations which the gay city offered.
George William formed an intimacy with a Venetian woman, one Signora
Buccolini, by whom he had a son. For many years he was devoted to her,
and maintained her in considerable affluence; for, with all his faults,
he was of a generous disposition. But the lady was of so passionate,
jealous, and exacting a temperament that at last she tired the patience
of her protector. After many quarrels he made an arrangement by which he
settled a sum of money upon the mother, and took the charge of the boy’s
education upon himself. This was the final separation. He took back the
young Lucas Buccolini with him to Hanover, clipped his Italian name into
Bucco, or Buccow, and found him a place in his household.[6]
-----
Footnote 6:
On attaining to man’s estate, this youth filled the office of Master
of the Horse at the court of Celle; later he became a colonel of the
dragoons. He seems to have been of a jealous disposition, and was
always grumbling because his putative father did not do more for him.
-----
George William’s subjects did not appreciate these frequent absences of
their liege lord, nor did they approve of the Italian singers and
dancers and the Venetian son whom he brought back with him to his prim
little court. They became exceedingly restive, and pointed out that
there was need of a duchess and an heir. Duke Christian of Celle was
unwed, and Duke George William of Hanover, who was next in succession,
was a bachelor too. Their subjects, both of Celle and Hanover,
considered this a neglect of duty on the part of their princes, and,
remonstrances having no avail, at last the members of the state in
Hanover threatened to cut short George William’s allowance if he did not
marry forthwith. Moreover, knowing his predilections, they intimated
plainly that they wished no foreign bride, and suggested that the
Princess Sophia, the orphan daughter of the luckless Frederick Prince
Palatine, ex-King of Bohemia (by the beautiful Elizabeth, daughter of
James I. of England), would be a suitable duchess.
The Princess Sophia was well past her first youth, and was understood to
be anxious to settle herself in life. She was then living with her
brother, the Elector Palatine of the Rhenish provinces, at Heidelberg.
The household was not a happy one, for the Elector and his wife were
leading a cat-and-dog life, and Sophia’s lot, as a poor relative, was
hardly enviable. She was a healthy little body, decidedly good-looking,
though she had not inherited the beauty of her mother, “The Queen of
Hearts”. “My hair,” she writes, “was light brown and in natural curls;
my general appearance gay and lightsome; my figure good, but not very
tall; my deportment that of a princess. I take no pleasure in
remembering all the rest, of which my mirror shows me nothing left.” She
had sharp wits and a sharp tongue, and the life she had led, travelling
about Europe in the poverty-stricken court of Queen Elizabeth, had
developed both to an unusual degree. Yet notwithstanding the financial
troubles of her youth, “my spirits,” she continues, “were so high in
those days that everything amused me; the misfortunes of my house were
unable to depress them, although at times we had to make repasts richer
than Cleopatra’s, and nothing was eaten at court but pearls and
diamonds”. This is one of Sophia’s figures of speech, for it is to be
feared that the pearls and diamonds had long since gone to the Jews.
Despite her poverty, or perhaps in consequence of it, Sophia was
inordinately proud of her birth, especially her English ancestry, on
which she was never tired of expatiating. At one time she had been put
forward as a suitable wife for her first cousin, the Prince of Wales,
afterwards Charles II. of England, and with that view had been carefully
trained in the English language and English ways. The match fell
through, and so, in the after years, did many others, some good, some
indifferent, which had been projected for her by her relations. As
Sophia was very ambitious, the failure of her matrimonial chances was a
great disappointment to her. She was now twenty-nine, and her good looks
were somewhat impaired by an attack of small-pox; she was therefore
quite ready to meet the husband whom the Hanoverians had proposed for
her, half way.
George William, seeing that his subjects’ minds were made up, shrugged
his shoulders and submitted to the inevitable. If it had to be, Sophia
would do as well as any other. He therefore started for Heidelberg, on
the way to his beloved Venice, accompanied again by his brother, Ernest
Augustus. Without ado he proposed for Sophia’s hand, and she “did not at
all hesitate to say _Yes_,” as she admits in her autobiography. He made
no pretence to any affection, and she required none. A marriage contract
was drawn up and duly signed, with the single proviso that the betrothal
should not be made public for a little time.
The business having been settled, George William hurried on to Venice,
and revelled in his brief spell of freedom. But his approaching marriage
hung over him like a pall; he thought over the matter, and one morning
he came to the conclusion that after all he could not take upon himself
the restraints of matrimony with a woman for whom he had not a particle
of affection. The situation was difficult, for, if he did not wed her,
his subjects were determined to reduce his income, and to the
pleasure-loving Duke this was an equally unpleasant alternative. In this
dilemma he bethought himself of Ernest Augustus, his youngest brother,
and suggested to him that he should act as his substitute. All that his
subjects wanted was an heir, and with this Ernest Augustus would be able
to furnish them, through Sophia, as well as he. Ernest Augustus was
nothing loth to take his brother’s place—for a consideration. He was
favourably disposed towards the Princess, with whom he had flirted in
his youth; they had met at the Hague and had played the guitar together,
but as he was a younger son, Sophia nipped the flirtation in the bud. A
deed was drawn up between the two brothers, in which George William
undertook to surrender certain of his revenues, and bound himself not to
marry, so as to leave his inheritance and all his rights to the brother
who would act as substitute for him in the matter of his intended bride
and ducal obligations. Just as the contract was signed the other
impecunious brother, John Frederick, came into the room, and, on
learning its contents, fell into a rage because the chance had not been
offered to him first; he tried to tear away the document from Ernest
Augustus, George William looking on with amusement. This happy-go-lucky
way of choosing a bride was quite in keeping with the traditions of the
House of Brunswick; an ancestor of these princes cast dice with his
seven brothers for a wife on somewhat similar conditions, and won the
prize—a princess of Hesse-Darmstadt.
The next thing was to acquaint the Princess Sophia with the arrangement;
that lady, having satisfied herself that the terms of the agreement were
equally advantageous to her and her possible heirs, raised no objection
to being handed over like a bale of goods, and though her pride was hurt
she skilfully concealed her resentment. Her brother, the Elector
Palatine, glad to be rid of her and her sharp tongue, told her that he
thought she was better for the change of brothers, a remark with which
she agreed, adding that “A good establishment is all _I_ cared for, and
if this be secured to the younger brother, the change is a matter of
indifference”.
These negotiations from first to last took two years; in September,
1658, the marriage was celebrated with some pomp at Heidelberg, and in
November the Duchess Sophia took up her abode at Hanover, where she was
the first lady in the land, and treated with every honour. She was
always a great stickler for etiquette, and insisted on every tittle of
the respect due to her rank and illustrious ancestry. Curiously enough,
if we may believe her memoirs, no sooner was she married to Ernest
Augustus than George William became attracted to her, thereby arousing
the jealousy of her husband, until she begged the elder brother, “for
the love of God,” to leave her in peace.
In 1660 her eldest son, George Louis (afterwards George I. of England),
was born at Osnabrück, and the arrival of the much-wished-for heir
increased her importance. The following year Ernest Augustus succeeded
to the bishopric of Osnabrück,[7] and Sophia’s prospects were the more
improved.
-----
Footnote 7:
Osnabrück was a see founded by Charlemagne. Luther had many followers
among the citizens, and at the Treaty of Westphalia, 1648, which was
concluded at Osnabrück, it was arranged that the Prince Bishop should
be alternately a Lutheran and a Roman Catholic, the selection of the
Lutheran bishop being left with the chapter, restricted, however, to
the family of Brunswick-Lüneburg. This arrangement resulted in some
very odd bishops. The last member of the English Royal Family to hold
the title was Frederick Augustus Duke of York, son of George III.
-----
Meantime George William had overcome his belated _penchant_ for Sophia,
if indeed it ever existed save in her imagination, and was gratifying
his pleasure-loving soul by making a tour of many cities. Among others,
he went to Breda, an exceedingly gay place at the end of the seventeenth
century, albeit money was somewhat lacking there. It was the chosen home
of political refugees, exiled princes, and deposed monarchs, who kept up
their spirits despite their fallen fortunes, and maintained phantom
courts on nothing a year. Here Charles II. dwelt for some time in his
exile with many celebrated cavaliers; here, too, his aunt, the Queen of
Bohemia, had held her shadowy court; here, too, was concluded the peace
between England and Holland. All these things contributed to the
importance and the gaiety of Breda; there were feasts, masquerades, and
revelries, and plays with after-suppers and dances. Among the gayest of
the gay was the Princess de Tarente, an aunt of the Duchess Sophia, a
German princess who had married a French prince. One of her most
cherished _protégées_ was Eléonore d’Olbreuse, only child of the Marquis
d’Olbreuse, a nobleman of ancient family, of Poitou. He was one of the
many French Huguenots who, after the revocation of the Edict of Nantes,
were persecuted by the government of Louis XIV. As he would not recant,
his estates were confiscated, he was sent into exile, and found an
asylum in Holland.
Before the persecution of the Huguenot nobles Eléonore d’Olbreuse had
figured at the brilliant court of Louis XIV., where she was greatly
admired for her wit and beauty. She was endowed with an exquisite
figure, dark brown hair, regular features, and a brilliant complexion.
At this time she was in the first bloom of youth, and her loveliness was
only equalled by her sprightliness and charm of manner.[8] George
William met her at a ball at the Princess de Tarente’s, and being of an
amorous, though not of a marrying disposition, he fell in love at first
sight. He became a constant visitor at the Princess de Tarente’s, and a
closer acquaintance with the accomplishments and graces of the
bewitching Eléonore only served to rivet his chains. He affected a great
zeal to perfect his French, and the fair Eléonore willingly consented to
give the good-looking Duke lessons, thereby offering fine opportunities
for flirtation. What progress George William made with the French
language is not recorded, but in the art of love there is no doubt he
made rapid advances, for after a few lessons in the conjugation of the
verb _aimer_, he avowed his passion in most extravagant terms, and swore
that he could not live without her. He found that the citadel did not
yield to the first attack. Eléonore d’Olbreuse was of a very different
calibre to Signora Buccolini; she had only two available assets, her
beauty and her virtue, and she was well aware of the value of both. She
was not versed in the _menue galanterie_ of the court of the Grand
Monarque for nothing. George William was fervent in his protestations,
prodigal in his promises of devotion, and what was more to the purpose,
most liberal in his proposals as to settlements; but Eléonore held firm.
Her birth was noble, though not royal, and, despite her poverty, she
held that a French marquis of ancient descent was not so very inferior
to a petty German prince. George William could not be expected to take
this view, for, though indifferent to the trappings of rank, he, like
all German princes, was inclined to over-estimate his own importance.
But he could not give her up; he who had been accustomed to command in
love was now its humblest supplicant; he who was indolent, easy-going in
temperament, now developed an ardour and determination altogether
foreign to him; he who was slow of speech now became more eloquent in
the language of love. Eléonore had worked a transformation. So
infatuated was he that he would willingly have married her then and
there but for the document he had signed when the marriage was arranged
between Ernest Augustus and Sophia. Eléonore knew nothing of this
arrangement, but she positively refused to entertain any proposals short
of marriage.
-----
Footnote 8:
There is a portrait of her, dressed in a blue robe, in the Guelph
Gallery at Herrenhausen, as she was in middle life—a beautiful woman,
with masses of dark brown hair and a superb figure.
-----
[Illustration:
ELÉONORE D’OLBREUSE, DUCHESS OF CELLE.
_From a painting at Herrenhausen._
]
In this dilemma George William thought of a morganatic marriage,[9] and
offered handsome settlements. The Princess de Tarente advised her friend
to yield. The Marquis d’Olbreuse put no pressure on his daughter; but
she was well aware of the straits to which poverty had reduced him, and
could see that in his heart he favoured the Duke’s suit. If she
consented she would secure for her father a comfortable provision for
his declining years. Eléonore, too, was really in love with George
William; but still she held back.
-----
Footnote 9:
A marriage _ad morganaticum_, sanctioned by the Church, but so far
disallowed by law that the children of such wedlock were _infantes
nullius_, and could succeed to no inheritance.
-----
To bring matters to a climax, the Princess de Tarente gave a brilliant
entertainment in honour of the birthday of her friend and _protégée_,
when she presented her with a jewelled medallion of her lover. The
result seemed inevitable, for she who hesitates is lost; when suddenly
couriers came hot-foot from Celle with the news that George William’s
elder brother, Christian, was dead, and his younger brother, John
Frederick, who owed him a grudge for having been cheated out of Sophia,
had seized on the castle of Celle and established himself in the duchy.
George William had to post in haste to Celle to uphold his rights and
turn out the usurper, but before leaving Breda he placed a paper in the
hands of his beloved Eléonore, in which she found that he had settled on
her, in the event of his death, the whole of his private fortune with
the exception of a few legacies.
It took some time for George William to arrange things satisfactorily at
Celle; but at last he persuaded John Frederick to relinquish the duchy,
and gave him compensation, for his frequent absences had weakened his
rights. George William then became Duke of Celle, and John Frederick
succeeded to Hanover, Ernest Augustus remaining Bishop of Osnabrück.
When affairs of state were settled satisfactorily George William’s
thoughts once more turned to love. But there were many difficulties. He
could not leave his duchy so soon again, he could not return to Breda to
see the object of his affections; while she, on her part, refused all
entreaties to come to him. In this dilemma he confided in his
sister-in-law, the Duchess Sophia, of whose judgment he had great
admiration. Sophia sympathised, softened, doubtless, by one of those
little presents whereby George William was in the habit of buying the
complaisance of the court at Osnabrück, and promised to see the affair
through, provided that nothing were done to impair her rights. It could
hardly have been a congenial task to Sophia, and her jealousy showed
itself early by her scoffing at Eléonore’s airs of virtue, which she
declared were only assumed to increase her value. But she was not one to
allow sentiment to stand in the way of substantial benefit. Sophia’s
prospects had again distinctly improved by the death of Duke Christian.
John Frederick was still unwed, and likely to remain so;[10] and if she
could tie George William down to an amour without legitimate heirs, in
the fulness of time she or her children might reign not only at
Osnabrück, but also at Hanover and Celle. So the illustrious Duchess
Sophia, the descendant of kings, the great lady of Osnabrück, wrote a
specious letter to the poor exiled Eléonore, asking her to come,
assuring her of respect, and offering her as a pretext the post of
lady-in-waiting at her court. Eléonore still hesitated. She was very
proud and very poor; but she was very much in love, and wearied with
importunities. The Duchess wrote again, even more urgently. These
attentions from one who was known everywhere as a great princess
flattered Eléonore’s pride, and the prospect of joining her lover
gratified her love. She consented and came.
-----
Footnote 10:
He married later, 1668, but his wife brought him no children.
-----
Eléonore was received with every mark of respect. Sophia, accompanied by
George William, met her at the foot of the grand staircase of the
castle. She was led up to the Duchess’s own chamber, where coffee and
salt biscuits, an unusual honour, were offered her, and she was then
conducted to her apartments. No one could be more affable than the
Duchess; everything seemed straightforward, and it is no wonder that
Eléonore, a stranger in a strange land, was outwitted. She soon found
that she could not draw back without compromising her reputation, so she
yielded to advice, not altogether reluctantly, and accepted at last the
left-handed marriage offered her. A contract was drawn up, worded almost
as if it were a regular marriage; but carefully guarding the rights of
Sophia, her husband, and her children; and the signatures of Ernest
Augustus and Sophia were written under those of George William of Celle
and Eléonore d’Olbreuse. After the ceremony, which took place in
September, 1665, Eléonore was granted the title of Madame von Harburg,
so called from an estate of the Duke’s, and her nominal place of
lady-in-waiting was filled by her sister Angelica, whom she later
married to the Comte de Reuss.
In her memoirs Sophia declares that at first she was agreeably surprised
to find Eléonore a very amiable person, of modest and even retiring
manners, and she no doubt thought she would be easily kept in her
place—not a high one. She soon found herself mistaken. For some months
after the morganatic marriage—the _anti-contrat de mariage_ Sophia
contemptuously called it—Eléonore continued to live in the household of
the Duchess, and was not treated with any great honour, and certainly
not admitted to an equality of rank. For instance, at meal-times she did
not take her place at the ducal table, and had to sit on a low chair,
without anything to eat, at a respectful distance from Sophia and George
William and Ernest Augustus, who ate their food while Madame von Harburg
looked on. But she was allowed to remain seated when any princes were
present, and this was considered a great concession. Her pride was much
hurt at this etiquette, nor did the heavy living and coarse manners of
the German court appeal to her finer tastes. In her interesting letters
to her uncle she complains that “her heart was sadly turned” by the
enormous dishes brought before the princely eaters, their _menu_
consisting chiefly of greasy sausages thrown in lumps on red cabbage,
and a farinaceous mass of ginger and onions. This was washed down by
cloudy, heavy ale, of which they drank freely. “Now,” the Duchess Sophia
would exclaim after she had eaten her fill, mopping her face with a
napkin, “you may go, my dear, and help your ‘angelic’ sister with her
saucepans.” This was a jeer at the habit of Eléonore and Angelica
preparing for themselves a little meal after the French _cuisine_ in
their dressing-rooms.
Madame von Harburg was not stinted in her establishment; she was allowed
a chariot drawn by six horses, but she was never seen abroad with the
Duchess Sophia or the Bishop of Osnabrück. She was not, however, a lady
content with the second place, and as her influence with her husband was
great, and grew greater as his love increased, she had little difficulty
in persuading him to take her away with him to the schloss at Celle,
where she was safe from the patronage of the Duchess Sophia and could
develop on her own lines. George William was glad to take up his abode
at the capital of his duchy, and, thanks to his morganatic wife, he
abandoned his roving habits and settled down as a model duke, making
plans for the improvement of his castle and the better government of his
people.
After they had been a few months at Celle, Eléonore set the seal on her
influence with her husband by presenting him with a daughter—Sophie
Dorothea.