PRINCE GEORGE GOES A-WOOING.
(1681-1682.)
He that travels in a country before he has some entrance into the
language, goeth to school and not to travel.—BACON.
From her watch-tower at Hanover the Duchess Sophia followed with keen
interest the course of events in England, an interest which increased
every day of her life until at last it became an absorbing passion. She
spared no pains to keep up a good understanding between herself and her
English relatives. When Charles II. was restored to the throne of his
ancestors, she sent him a warm letter of congratulation, written in the
oddest French, which is still preserved among the Lambeth manuscripts.
Throughout her cousin’s reign Sophia continued to watch affairs in
England. She noted Charles’s childless marriage to Catherine of
Braganza.[18] She noted the dislike and jealousy of the people of
England to Popery, and the conversion of the heir to the throne, the
Duke of York, to the Roman Catholic religion, and his consequent
unpopularity. She noted the marriage of his eldest daughter, Princess
Mary of York, to William of Orange, and the childless condition of the
Dutchman and his spouse. Last of all, she noted that the Princess Anne
of York, on whom it seemed likely the crown of England would devolve in
the course of nature, had reached a marriageable age, and she saw in her
son, George Louis, the husband for her, and prepared to act.
-----
Footnote 18:
“She [Sophia] told me,” writes Lord Dartmouth many years later, “that
she was once like to have been married to King Charles II., which
would not have been worse for the nation, considering how many
children she had brought, to which I most sincerely agreed.”
-----
George Louis had now attained his majority. He was not an ideal lover,
by no means a Prince Charming, though so far as looks were concerned he
might have passed muster. He was about the middle height, dark, with
strongly marked features, but he carried himself badly, and was awkward
of figure, still more awkward in manner. He resembled neither of his
parents. Ernest Augustus gilded his faults by a certain generosity and
refinement, which earned for him the title of “the gentleman of
Germany”. George Louis was niggardly, he had no charm of manner, he was
vindictive, sullen, slow of speech, and altogether unprepossessing. His
mother, as we have seen, was a woman of high culture and education and a
ready wit, which caused her to be known as “the merry, _débonnaire_
princess of Germany”. George Louis’s education had been neglected, he
had no love of learning, and an intense dislike of literature, nor had
he any accomplishments save the love of music characteristic of his
race. But, on the other hand, he was a good soldier, a man of the camp
rather than of the court. His tutors threw up their hands in despair
when they endeavoured to teach him anything from books, but he took to
military service as a duck takes to water. He served under his father,
when only fifteen, in the campaign in 1675, and fought bravely at
Consarbrück, at the siege of Treves, and in the campaign on the Rhine;
he was at the sieges of Maestricht and Charleroy, and again at the
battle near St. Denis, and on every occasion he distinguished himself.
He had his own rough code of honour. He never told a lie. He possessed
in a marked degree that courage which even their bitterest detractors
cannot withhold from the princes of the House of Hanover. Yet with all
his military instinct he loved not bloodshed for its own sake; he was a
man of peace. He had humanity for the wounded on the field of battle,
and could respect a fallen foe. His methods were brutal, but
straightforward; he was no intriguer, and, though profligate, he was
honest.
Ernest Augustus was in despair at the rude manners of his boorish son,
and thought that travel would improve him. As he was not over-welcome at
home, he sent him to the court of France, to pick up a little polish for
one thing, and, for another, to try to improve matters between Louis
XIV. and himself. But the young Prince returned much the same. He was
not a diplomatist, and his efforts in that direction were not a success.
It was then that the Duchess Sophia broached her plan of sending him to
England as a suitor of the Princess Anne of York. It was emphatically
_her_ plan. Madame Platen had nothing to do with it, was not even
consulted; in fact, Sophia never recognised in any way this woman’s
influence. The moment could not have been more propitious. The
anti-Popery feeling was running high in England, and already overtures
had been made by the Protestant party to the House of Hanover. Duke
Ernest Augustus did not think much of these overtures; the prospect was
too vague. England was to him little more than a geographical
expression, and the violent events of recent years filled him with
distrust. He had witnessed in England the Great Rebellion, the downfall
of the Monarchy, the execution of the King, the setting up of the
Commonwealth, the downfall of the Commonwealth, the restoration of the
Monarchy, and now the Puritan party seemed to be rising again. He did
not trust a nation which indulged in such extremes, and he regarded
England much as the average Englishman to-day regards France. But he was
not averse from the idea of marrying his eldest son to a Princess of the
Royal House of England; in any case she would have a goodly dower, and
so, to please his wife and his own inclinations, he consented to find
the money to despatch George Louis to England in a manner befitting his
rank and errand.
[Illustration:
PRINCE GEORGE LOUIS OF HANOVER
(AFTERWARDS GEORGE I. OF ENGLAND).
_From a picture at Hanover._
]
The Duchess Sophia was delighted with her husband’s willingness to fall
in with her plan (she little knew that all the while behind her back he
was intriguing for another match for Prince George, should this fall
through), and she took the keenest interest in her son’s visit. Another
also took an interest, that born intriguer, William of Orange, the
husband of the Princess Mary of York, who was jealously watching events
in England. When he heard of George Louis’s intended visit he scented
mischief ahead, and sent a flattering invitation to Hanover asking the
young Prince to spend a month with him at the Hague on his way to
England. Sophia was glad that her son should visit his Stuart cousins in
Holland, and the invitation was accepted. It was a fatal error of
policy, for William soon learnt from the young Prince the object of his
mission, and immediately set to work to render it null and void. He,
too, was half a Stuart, a grandson of Charles I., and the prospect of
the crown of England had its charms for him also; he coveted it not
merely for his wife. If George Louis married the Princess Anne, and the
Princess of Orange died before her (as in fact she did, though not till
she had been Queen), William, her consort, would probably have to give
way to their prior claims; for George Louis was a Protestant, and only
one step further removed from the blood royal of England than himself;
therefore it behoved him to move heaven and earth to prevent this match.
He had spies in England, at Hanover, and at Celle, and he set them all
at work. His agent in Hanover was probably Madame Platen, and at Celle
Bernstorff, both of whom were open to bribes. Their work was simple:
they were to represent to their respective princes how much more
suitable and advantageous it would be if George Louis married Sophie
Dorothea. Of course, they could do nothing more than prepare the ground,
and drop a hint now and then; but even that would bear fruit. In England
William had emissaries everywhere, at court, and even in the household
of Princess Anne.
Meanwhile the unsuspecting George Louis parted from his cousins, William
and Mary, with many expressions of good-will, and set sail for England.
He anchored off Greenwich early in December, 1680 (New Style). His
arrival was well timed, from the popularity point of view. Public
feeling was excited over the so-called Popish plots, and the
unpopularity of the Duke of York was at its height. The Bill which
excluded him from the succession to the throne because he was a Papist
was before Parliament, and in the event of its passing into law George
Louis’s prospects as a Protestant descendant of the Stuarts would be
improved. The Bill did pass with acclamation, but the King dissolved
Parliament immediately.
George Louis’s arrival, though his errand was well known, does not seem
to have been equally popular with the court; his barque lay in the mud
off Greenwich, but no one was sent to look out for him or to bid him
welcome. When he landed in England again it was as King: such are the
ironies of history. At this time George Louis did not expect great
things; he sent to his uncle Rupert, and presumably explained matters to
him. Henceforward things went more smoothly. George Louis was lodged in
Whitehall and received by Charles II. very graciously. He was presented
to the Princess Anne, and by the King’s permission suffered to kiss her
cheek; but his wooing did not prosper as might have been expected from
so promising a beginning. The Princess Anne at that time was seventeen
years old, in the full bloom of youth, and had a considerable share of
good looks of a florid description. Accustomed as she was to all the
grace and splendour of the English court, Princess Anne looked with
little favour on the awkward advances of her German cousin, who could
not speak a word of the English language, and whose person was not
pleasing nor his manner courtly. Naturally reserved, he was very shy
when he was first presented to her, and awkward in saluting her, and
William of Orange caused it to be whispered to Anne that the Prince’s
backwardness was owing to an irrepressible disgust which he felt for her
at first sight, and that he had spoken slightingly of her charms. This
was enough for Anne, whose vanity was easily wounded; she would have
nothing more to say to her loutish lover, and cherished a lifelong
resentment at the imaginary affront.
Neither the King nor the Duke of York favoured the suit of the
Hanoverian Prince, because he was unjustly supposed to be in league with
the Prince of Orange. But still George Louis lingered in England, and
paid a visit to Cambridge, where he was received with every mark of
honour and given the degree of Doctor of Laws. Cambridge was thus early
in the field to demonstrate her loyalty to the House of Hanover. When it
is remembered that the Prince was a stranger to England, and could not
speak a word of the language, it is evident there must have been some
political motive on the part of the university. It was to be found in
party feeling, which then ran high. Parliament met at Oxford, and was
still clamouring for the Exclusion Bill, but the King put his foot down,
absolutely refused to alter the succession, and again dissolved
Parliament. This was a severe blow to the Protestant party and
incidentally to the Protestant princes.
Soon after, George Louis was summoned home abruptly, and he returned to
Hanover in the spring. Ernest Augustus, seeing there was no hope of his
son marrying the Princess Anne, became impatient about the English
succession, for which he did not care a fig; besides, there was a
tendency in England to draw the young Prince into intrigues, and both
Sophia and himself always opposed anything which might tend to embarrass
the reigning House of England. In this respect the conduct of the House
of Hanover forms an honourable contrast to that of William of Orange.
Her son’s return empty-handed was a bitter disappointment to Sophia, who
saw her English hopes shattered. She withdrew once more to the
consolations of philosophy, conscious that the failure of her plan had
brought with it a waning of her influence with her husband. George Louis
had been sent on a wild-goose chase, and Ernest Augustus had to pay the
bill, which he did with very ill grace; for, though he was lavish with
money where his own pleasures were concerned, he had the German
thriftiness about spending it on others.
Madame Platen’s star now rose in the ascendant, and she urged with added
force and plausibility the scheme of a marriage between George Louis and
his cousin, Sophie Dorothea. Of course, all had to be done behind the
back of the Duchess Sophia, who regarded the court of Celle with
unconcealed aversion. Ernest Augustus had not the same feeling of
personal bitterness against Eléonore as his wife, and he was quite
willing to make terms with George William, or, for a matter of that,
with her, if he could thereby add to his fortunes, and he therefore gave
ready ear to the idea. The advantages of the union were many and
obvious; the young lady was rich, her dower would be large, the marriage
would unite the severed principalities of Celle and Hanover, and so add
enormously to the power of the House of Brunswick-Lüneburg; it would end
an unpleasant family feud, fraught with weakness and danger to both
parties, and would set up again an identity of interest between the
brothers. All this would happen if Sophie Dorothea married George Louis;
but if she married a rival prince, under the present strained relations,
dangers would arise which it would be impossible to foresee. The breach
would widen, and the principality of Hanover would be threatened with a
foe at its very doors. From a political point of view nothing could be
better than this marriage—for Hanover. At Celle the ground was not
unprepared; Platen had communicated with Bernstorff, and that pliant
tool had also sounded George William who was more than willing; the
failure of other matrimonial plans for his daughter made him more
complaisant. As the continual dropping of water wears away a stone, so
Bernstorff, by hint and innuendo, was slowly undermining the influence
of the Duchess of Celle. He traded on the fact that she was “the
Frenchwoman,” he exaggerated the jealousy which arose from so many
French officers holding commissions in the ducal army, he hinted
discreetly to the Duke that the neighbouring princes and even the
Emperor were laughing at him because he allowed himself to be ruled by
his wife, and he particularly opposed the growing power of the
Celle-Wolfenbüttel party.
Duke Antony Ulrich had by this time brought forward his eldest surviving
son, a handsome prince, as a suitor for the hand of Sophie Dorothea. The
young couple were of a suitable age, and Eléonore warmly encouraged the
match. If the matter had rested with her, the betrothal would long since
have taken place. Her first check had come when she proposed it to
George William. To her astonishment he held back. He was superstitious,
and thought the untoward ending of the first match between his daughter
and a Prince of the House of Wolfenbüttel was an ill omen. He did not
approve of her marriage with the younger brother when she had been
betrothed to the elder, for in Germany at that time betrothal was almost
as solemn a compact as marriage itself. These were the reasons he put
forward for opposing the betrothal; but Eléonore, who suspected
something behind, talked him over, and at last he was induced to
unwillingly give a half promise that was almost a consent, on the
condition that the betrothal should be postponed until Sophie Dorothea
was sixteen, and meantime the arrangement should be kept secret. With
this Eléonore and Antony Ulrich had to be content. The Duke was easily
swayed, and it was Bernstorff who prompted the delay; he now used the
time gained to further oppose the match and to urge the Hanoverian
claims.
So matters went on until September, 1682, when Sophie Dorothea was to
attain her sixteenth birthday. In some way the half promise which the
Duke of Celle had given leaked out, and also the news that Duke Antony
Ulrich and his son were coming to Celle for the celebration of the
Princess’s birthday on September 15. Bernstorff immediately communicated
this to the court of Hanover. The news filled Ernest Augustus and his
advisers, the Platens, with dismay; they had been intriguing for months,
and now, through a sudden move on the part of the Duchess of Celle,
their schemes were on the edge of failure. If Bernstorff had not
discovered the plot they would certainly have been lost. In any case the
time for talking was past, the time for action had come; Antony Ulrich
and the young Prince were actually on their way to Celle, and Eléonore
was arranging a great festival, when no doubt the betrothal would be
publicly announced. Then it would be too late. Owing to the badness of
the roads, the news only arrived at Hanover on the morning of the day
before. What was to be done? If Ernest Augustus were to go to Celle,
Eléonore would guess the reason of his sudden appearance and outwit him.
To send George Louis would be to court failure (they had had two
experiences of _his_ diplomacy); to send a Minister would be useless; to
send Madame Platen an insult. There was only one person who could hope
to carry the difficult business through, and she was the Duchess Sophia.
She had influence with the Duke of Celle. Her quarrel had been with his
wife and not with him. He had always treated her with honour and even
affection; probably he felt some twinge of shame for the shabby way he
had behaved to her years before. Her descent from a long line of kings,
her high position, learning, and virtues, her wit and resource, all made
her the ideal ambassadress for such a mission. George William would be
flattered by her condescension in coming to Celle; he was seeking an
excuse to bring about the match, and would meet her half way. But would
she go?
It was not without misgiving that Ernest Augustus repaired to his
Duchess, laid bare his plan, and implored her aid. It came to her as a
revelation, and at first the haughty Sophia would have none of it. She
hated the d’Olbreuse, and despised Sophie Dorothea because she was her
daughter; she had never recognised them, never visited them, and always
treated them as dirt beneath her feet. The last thing she contemplated,
or wished, was to be brought into closer alliance with them. It did not
come to her altogether as a new idea, for the possibility of such a
marriage had often been discussed before, only to be contemptuously
rejected by Sophia. Five years before, in 1677, it is mentioned in her
correspondence with the Duchess of Orleans, who profanely denounced it
as a “sin against the Holy Ghost”. But the arguments and entreaties of
Ernest Augustus had weight with her; he reminded her that her English
plan had failed, and urged that she should make some compensation for
the expense and disappointment which she had brought upon him. She
recognised the force of this reasoning; she was just now suffering all
the humiliations of defeat, and if she could carry this difficult thing
through it would restore her lost prestige. She knew well enough—it did
not need to be explained to her—the substantial advantages that would
accrue from the union of the duchies and the bringing of a large dowry
into the coffers of Hanover. She saw, too, how disastrous it would be
for the Celle-Wolfenbüttel party to triumph and Eléonore to be
victorious. The last thought was perhaps the most powerful of all; by
consenting to go to Celle she would outwit her rival, wound her to the
heart, frustrate her most cherished plan, and ruin her influence for
ever. So Sophia consented to undertake the mission, and, with
characteristic energy, prepared to start at once. The state chariot and
Mecklenburg horses were ordered out, and with postillions and outriders
the haughty Duchess set forth. There was no time to be lost; she must
reach Celle before to-morrow morning or the Wolfenbüttels would be there
before her.
It was a dull evening in mid-September when Sophia rumbled in her heavy
coach out of Hanover and over the rough road towards Celle. Celle is
distant from Hanover about twenty miles as the crow flies; but because
of heavy rains many of the roads were impassable, and the coach had to
travel by a circuitous route. It took the Duchess all night to reach her
journey’s end.