THE GATHERING STORM.
My star! a baleful one.
I see the black night, and hear the wolf.
What star?
TENNYSON, _Queen Mary_.
Königsmarck went to Hamburg in January to see if he could raise money,
but he failed, and returned to Hanover more embarrassed than before. At
Hanover he had long outworn his welcome: the court had no smiles for
alien nobles when they were short of money, and Königsmarck was now a
suspect and under a cloud.
Apart from the chronic difficulty with Sophie Dorothea, the Electoral
family had its own worries. Prince Max was again troublesome, and the
King of Denmark and Duke Antony Ulrich of Wolfenbüttel were secretly
inciting him to rebel. The hatred of the last-named prince for the House
of Hanover was now open and declared; and he was an exceedingly
dangerous enemy, as his knowledge of the domestic discontent in the
Elector’s family gave him much opportunity of intrigue. Informed of
everything at the Hanoverian court, it is said that Duke Antony Ulrich
made overtures to Sophie Dorothea to induce her to take part against the
Electoral House, and she was not indisposed to listen, though she
hesitated to commit herself until all hope of obtaining money for a
separate establishment from her father was at an end.
Both Hanover and Wolfenbüttel were full of spies, employed by their
respective princes against each other, and the Elector soon got
knowledge of these intrigues. Prince Max was sent to Savoy, where he
took command of a regiment of cavalry, his father allowing him thirteen
thousand dollars instead of the six thousand he had previously granted
him. But, as the English envoy shrewdly remarks, this was “only to get
rid of him, for fear he should revolt again”.[214] Prince Christian, who
was also suspected, was sent into Hungary to take part in a campaign for
the Emperor. Of the disaffected there remained only Sophie Dorothea,
whose intrigue with Königsmarck, if the Elector had but known it, was
the most dangerous of all. But as soon as Ernest Augustus had got rid of
his insubordinate sons he fell ill, so ill that fears were entertained
of his life; these family worries had probably told upon his health, for
he was now advancing in years, and had always been a free liver.[215] He
was not nearly as robust as his elder brother, the Duke of Celle, whose
temperate habits and love of hunting and out-door pursuits gave him the
enjoyment of vigorous health.
-----
Footnote 214:
Cresset’s _Despatches_, Celle, March 20, 1694. Prince Max subsequently
became a Roman Catholic and Jacobite, and died in open rebellion
against his elder brother (George I.) in 1726.
Footnote 215:
Schaumann is my authority for this statement. The Elector’s illness is
not mentioned in the English envoy’s despatches.
-----
The Elector’s serious illness brought many questions to the front which
had hitherto lain in abeyance. Though there was every reason to believe
the Electoral Prince would adhere in the main to his father’s policy,
yet the Elector’s death which now seemed within the range of practical
politics, would of necessity bring about changes—none more momentous
than the dethronement of Countess Platen from the position of power she
had so long enjoyed. It would mean, also, the relegation of the
Electress Sophia to the comparative obscurity of Electress-Dowager, and
would, of course, involve the accession of Sophie Dorothea to the
dignity of Electress. Sophie Dorothea did not covet the Electoral
diadem, but it would be thrust upon her whether she would or no, and the
mere fact of being Electress, though she had no influence with her
husband, would of necessity give her added dignity and honour. She would
become a force for her enemies to reckon with, especially as she had the
Celle family influence at her back.
The prospect of Sophie Dorothea reigning at Hanover as Electress was not
contemplated with equanimity either by the Electress Sophia or by the
Countess Platen, though from different reasons. Countess Platen well
understood that the new Electress would certainly not ignore her
arrogance as the Electress Sophia had done, and she might even refuse to
receive her at her court. She therefore redoubled her efforts to involve
the Princess in disgrace and ruin, and unfortunately the Königsmarck
affair gave her a handle. There is nothing to show that the Electress
Sophia took part in these tactics, for though she strongly disliked the
idea of the daughter of the despised d’Olbreuse taking precedence of
her, her line of policy had hitherto been to give Countess Platen a wide
berth, and she was not likely to reverse it now.
The Princess cared nothing for affairs of state, and, absorbed as she
was in her mad passion for Königsmarck, heedless alike of appearances
and consequences, she thoughtlessly played into the hands of her
enemies. Countess Platen was so far successful in her manœuvres that she
managed to poison the mind of the Elector against his daughter-in-law,
and she inflamed the Electoral Prince against his wife anew. The
immediate result was that he put spies to watch Sophie Dorothea and
Königsmarck, and the Princess’s position at Hanover became more
intolerable than before. The lynx-eyed Knesebeck became aware of the
danger, and implored the Princess either to give up the intrigue, or to
allow her to retire from her service. But the Princess refused to let
her go, and Knesebeck, who was devotedly attached to her mistress,
realising that if she abandoned her she would be without a friend,
stayed on. She was aware of the constant efforts which the Princess was
making to leave Hanover and obtain a residence in Celle territory from
her father, and she probably thought if she remained she might save her
mistress from desperate steps and follow her in an honourable retreat
from Hanover.
But obstacles only seemed to heighten the Princess’s passion. Since her
return from Celle in the autumn she had not relaxed her efforts to
obtain money from her parents; but the Duke of Celle had no funds to
spare, crippled as he was by ruinous wars, nor was he in a mood to
listen to the language of revolt. With her mother the Princess appears
to have been more successful, for we find Cresset, the English envoy,
writing to England about this time of “the desire of this Duchess
[Celle] to pay thirty thousand or forty thousand crowns _à fond perdu_
into our bank, if it be not filled or clogged up”. In the light of the
Princess’s letters we may hazard a guess that the Duchess intended this
sum to go towards her daughter’s separate establishment, little
dreaming, of course, that the separate establishment was but a blind,
and she really wanted the money to fly with Königsmarck to some distant
land.
Every thought and action of the Princess at this time was directed to
one end only—flight, whither, when, and how she knew not. A hundred
expedients flitted through her brain only to be dismissed, for one
obstacle rendered them all impossible—lack of money; a prosaic reason to
enter into the romance of princely personages, but nevertheless a real
one. The Princess did not want much money, but some she must have—enough
to enable her to live in decent independence. It seemed to her, that
when she had taken her flight to some far-off country, the court of
Hanover would be only too glad to be rid of her, a divorce would
inevitably follow, and she would then be allowed to marry Königsmarck
and to spend the rest of her life quietly with him. That she would have
found either happiness or peace may be doubted, but she was willing to
take the risk. She was willing to abandon her high position and rank,
the pomp and glitter of courts, a brilliant prospect of crowns and
kingdoms, for obscurity, dishonour, and comparative poverty. Whatever
view we may take of her ethical standard, we cannot doubt the depth and
sincerity of her one great love passion, all the greater because of the
unworthiness of the man for whom she counted it joy to sacrifice all she
had in the world.
Königsmarck, in his letters and interviews, now as before, was
constantly inciting the Princess to revolt, and his alternate
temptations and reproaches drove her nearly beside herself. In truth
Königsmarck was himself in a tight place. Even Marshal Podevils, his
staunchest friend, turned against him; and when he remonstrated with the
Field-Marshal about his lack of promotion, and threatened to quit the
Hanoverian service, Podevils curtly replied that he would put no
obstacle in his way. Undoubtedly the most dignified course for
Königsmarck to have taken would have been to have acted on this hint and
have resigned his commission in a service where he was so unwelcome.
At this juncture the Countess Platen, who knew how hard pressed he was,
but who retained a liking for him, sought anew to tempt him from his
allegiance to the Princess, and with shameless effrontery offered him
her daughter in marriage, promising him in return the favour of the
Elector, rapid promotion in the army, and her powerful support. She knew
full well that his embarrassments, though acute just now, were only
temporary, and thus she would not only secure an eligible _parti_ for
her daughter, but would win him over to her own interests.
To his credit, be it said, Königsmarck resisted the temptress, and
rejected her offer with scorn and indignation. He went so far as to
remind the Countess Platen that there were certain reasons why he should
not marry her daughter.[216] These scruples the Countess Platen neither
understood nor sympathised with; indeed, she strongly resented them, and
she and Königsmarck parted in bitter anger. “A slighted woman knows no
bounds,” and she soon made her quondam lover feel the weight of her
displeasure. A rumour ran round the court that Königsmarck would be
arrested on the ground that he had not paid his gambling debts in
Flanders and thereby brought discredit to the Hanoverian army.
At this moment, just when Königsmarck’s affairs were at their blackest,
a door of escape was opened to him by the sudden accession of his friend
Duke Frederick Augustus to the Electorate of Saxony. Duke Frederick
Augustus succeeded his brother, the Elector George Frederick, whose
death was sudden and tragic. The young Elector George, who was weak and
dissolute, was entirely under the sway of a beautiful brunette of
twenty, whom he created the Countess von Röohlitz. During her brief
reign the favourite ruled Dresden with a rod of iron, and drove the
Electress from the court. Early in April, 1694, she died suddenly of
small-pox, and the Elector, who would not leave her bedside, caught the
fell disease and died eleven days later. Stepney, the English envoy at
Dresden, thus writes in his quaint way:—
-----
Footnote 216:
This lady, Charlotte Sophia, the young Countess Platen referred to
once or twice in the correspondence, was said to be the daughter of
Countess Platen by the Elector Ernest Augustus. She married, later,
Baron Kielmansegge, Master of the Horse, and accompanied George I. to
England. On the death of her husband George I. raised her to the rank
of Countess of Darlington. There is evidence to show that George I.
recognised the kinship between him and Lady Darlington, but she was
generally supposed to be his mistress. The precise relationship must
always remain a mystery.
-----
“The revolution we have had here is so sudden and so extraordinary and
so surprising that I know of no romance or tragedy to compare to it
except _All for Love_. A virtuous Electrice has been slighted like
Octavia, yet supported her disgrace with a patience and constancy equall
to y^e Roman Ladyes. An Elector has revelled in pleasures with an
Imperious Mistress (who pretended to be a wife), and defyed y^e open
Scandall of Adultery and double Marriage; till y^e Scene changed, and
y^e fond Pair were carried off y^e Stage one after y^e other (like
Anthony and Cleopatra) in less than a month. Our Saxon-Lady was dressed
up in as much State after her death as y^e Egyptian Queen was before she
applied y^e Aspicks, and was buryed in a Mausoleum where lay three
Princes of y^e Electorall family, but has had little rest there; For y^e
rage of y^e new Government has rifled her coffin of all her ornaments
and has transported y^e Corps naked to a churchyard where lye none but
Malefactors and those who dye of pestilential distempers. The Mother for
having had a handsome daughter is prosecuted as a Witch; as if Beauty
without Philters were not charm enough to make a Prince of 26 Love
passionately as y^e Elector did, and all families here who have either
Allyances or friendship with these poor Ladyes are either crushed or
shaken by the Fall, as is usuall in mighty ruines.”[217]
-----
Footnote 217:
Stepney’s _Despatches_, Dresden, May 18/28, 1694, State Paper Office,
“Foreign Papers,” Germany.
-----
Truly a revolution—transformation, rather! Youth, beauty, vice, insolent
in their power, and suddenly King Death waves his wand and they are
swept from the stage and become as though they had never been. What an
opportunity for the moralist! It may be feared, however, that the moral
was lost on the royal brother Augustus who succeeded thus unexpectedly;
and so far as morals went the court of Dresden lost rather than gained
by the exchange. Augustus II., better known in history as Augustus the
Strong, the modern Sardanapalus, “the Saxon man of sin,” as Carlyle
calls him, scandalised and dazzled Europe for nigh on half a century
with his vices. The Elector George was weak, the besotted lover of one
imperious mistress, who ruled him wholly. The Elector Augustus was
physically strong, and ruled by nothing save his despotic will and his
unbridled lusts. The number of his mistresses bid fair to rival those of
Solomon, but no one of them ruled him, for he devoted himself to none.
“Constancy is not in his nature,” writes Stepney, “and he may be called
in y^e liberall sense a father of his people, as good King Charles was,
for he is an impartial distributor of his bounty, and while he is in y^e
humour, the first woman y^t offers is sure of his caresses.”[218] This
was written in no spirit of exaggeration. Augustus was “father of his
people,” indeed, for his court formed a seraglio, and when he died he
had no less than three hundred and fifty-four children by his numerous
mistresses. Yet there was a certain splendour about the Saxon Elector.
Like Augustus of Rome, he found a city of brick and left a city of
marble. During his reign Dresden became one of the most beautiful cities
in Europe. He established noble picture-galleries and museums full of
objects of art, metal work, armoury, precious stones, porcelain, and
glass. Great though were his vices, wanton though his extravagances, his
love of the fine arts redeemed him from utter grossness. His reign
indeed recalled the declining days of imperial Rome, when the most
exquisite polish and the grossest licentiousness flourished side by
side. Reckless, selfish, ambitious, luxurious, and despotic, the career
of Augustus the Strong affords few parallels since the days of the
Cæsars.
-----
Footnote 218:
Stepney’s _Despatches_, Dresden, May 29/June 8, 1694.
-----
Such was the Prince whose sudden advent to power was hailed by
Königsmarck as a means of deliverance from his troubles. He had written
of him long ago to the Princess: “He is a good sort of prince; I wish he
would become Elector”. His wishes were now gratified, and on receipt of
the news he posted off to Dresden without delay.
The truth of the familiar Scripture, “Put not your trust in princes,”
must surely have been proved by Königsmarck more than once in his
adventurous career. Yet there were several reasons why he should be
inclined to put his trust in this particular prince: they were old
friends and boon companions; they had travelled about Europe together in
1687; they had fought together, drank together, and gambled together
during the campaign in Flanders in 1692, when Duke Frederick Augustus
disappeared, leaving behind him a pile of unpaid gambling debts, and his
boon companions cursing him, as well they might. Of them Königsmarck was
one of the heaviest creditors, for the Saxon Prince owed him no less
than thirty thousand crowns. While he was only Duke Frederick Augustus,
with extravagant habits and no power, to redeem the debt seemed
hopeless, but it was quite another thing now that he had become Elector.
So Königsmarck argued, and the present state of his affairs lending him
wings, he set off for Dresden in almost indecent haste, lest other
claimants should be in the field before him. He had interest, too, at
his back, for without that interest his claim would have been little
worth.
Königsmarck arrived at Dresden within a week of the Elector George’s
death. Notwithstanding the nature of his errand, which could hardly have
been quite agreeable to the new Elector, he was favourably received, and
his petition listened to very graciously. Augustus had not forgotten—not
at all; he never forgot a debt of honour, but it was a little
inconvenient for him just then to find so much ready money. He was
barely settled on his Electoral throne, and heavy expenses consequent on
funeral rites and coronation festivities had to be borne; but he would
give Königsmarck the post of major-general in the Saxon army in payment
of the debt. This was hardly what Königsmarck expected or desired: his
wish was a large sum of ready money. But the offer was better than
nothing; the post was one of dignity, the pay was large, and the rank
and perquisites considerable. The favour of the Elector was an earnest
of better things to come (which indeed were hinted at), so he accepted
it with all the grace he could.
It is not easy to see how Königsmarck could have accepted this post as
major-general in the Saxon army, as he undoubtedly did, consistently
with the fact that he held at the same time the post of colonel in the
Hanoverian army[219] and with his promise to the Princess to fly with
her at the first opportunity to some far-off corner of the world. But
perhaps in this, too, he looked to the favour of the Elector.
-----
Footnote 219:
Many chroniclers have puzzled their heads to reconcile these two
facts, but the question is absolutely set at rest by the despatches of
Stepney, which are now published for the first time in this book. They
will be quoted later, and show quite clearly that Königsmarck was
major-general in the Saxon army at the same time that he was a colonel
in the Hanoverian service.
-----
Königsmarck’s business having been settled, his thoughts lightly turned
to pleasure, and the court of Dresden afforded ample opportunities.
Augustus the Strong did not greatly mourn his departed brother, who
indeed left few to mourn him; and after he had gratified his love of
display by giving him a gorgeous funeral, he turned his attention to the
ceremonies and festivities of his own coronation, and he found time to
inaugurate the round of revelry, feasts, and entertainments which lasted
throughout his reign. To these entertainments Königsmarck was bidden as
a welcome guest, and the new major-general proved his mettle, as was
meet for one so distinguished in love and war and so celebrated in his
adventures. Nor was he merely a welcome guest at the table of the
Elector. From the English envoy’s (Stepney’s) correspondence at this
period it appears that he was well received in Dresden as the favoured
guest of many nobles, and he himself entertained him, as he “had known
him in England, Hamburg, Flanders and elsewhere”. True he states that he
had “no great opinion of y^e sparke,” but that was after his fall, and
no one has a great opinion of the fallen.
Feasting and riotous living seem hardly fitting for a disconsolate lover
such as Königsmarck avowed himself to be, whose one desire was to find
some “corner of the world” where he might live with the object of his
love, and forego all honour and pleasure for her dear sake. But few men
are quite consistent, and Königsmarck was not among them. While the
Princess was eating her heart out in the palace at Hanover, weeping and
wailing, quarrelling with her husband, importuning her parents, moving
Heaven and earth to advance her pet scheme, Königsmarck was revelling in
the wanton halls of Augustus the Strong. It is a sad fact, but there is
no denying it, for this is a true history. His conduct was far from that
of an ideal lover. If he had kept to eating and drinking and high play,
it would have mattered little, but unfortunately the wine-cup loosens
the tongue, and the brilliant Königsmarck, known to all Europe for his
wit and amours, must needs maintain his reputation at Dresden by
boasting of his conquests at the court of Hanover. Nothing interested
the different courts of Germany so much as the vices and scandals of
their neighbours, and the court of Hanover afforded a rare opportunity.
Königsmarck was more than ready to gratify their curiosity about it.
Countess Platen, Madame Weyhe, Madame Podevils, Fräulein Schulenburg,
the Elector and the Electoral Prince all furnished matter for sundry
spicy tales, Countess Platen most of all. How Countess Platen bathed in
milk and then gave it away as a dole to the poor of Hanover, how she
painted her face, how she domineered over the Elector, and how she made
overtures to Königsmarck, offering him her daughter, and his reasons for
refusing—all this and much more he babbled in his cups, and all was duly
reported and exaggerated, if exaggeration were possible, to the court of
Hanover by informers at Dresden.
The rage of Countess Platen and the other ladies may be better imagined
than described. Whether Königsmarck went further, as his enemies
alleged, and to his lasting dishonour boasted of his intrigue with the
Electoral Princess, there exists no evidence to show. From Stepney’s
despatches it would appear that he did not, for that worthy later
mentions the Princess’s name in connection with Königsmarck with
surprise. On the other hand, it must be remembered that the same charge
had been brought against Königsmarck before, and he had denied it so far
as the Princess was concerned, though he admitted it in the case of
Countess Platen and others. His denial counts for little, for he was
probably too much intoxicated to remember what he said and what he did
not say. We must not judge him too harshly for his free drinking, for it
was in those days the custom of courts, and there was never a festive
gathering but that the majority became more or less intoxicated. But the
fact that he was a wine-bibber undoubtedly detracts from the value of
his denial. Be that as it may, there is no doubt whatever that
Königsmarck’s gossip at Dresden was repeated at Hanover to the people
about whom he talked, and they were incensed beyond measure. This did
not only apply to Countess Platen and the Elector Ernest Augustus, but
to Fräulein Schulenburg and the Electoral Prince. Ermengarda Melusina
Schulenburg, to her credit be it said, never mixed herself up in court
quarrels, nor sought to thrust herself upon the Electoral Princess; she
was of a peaceable disposition, and this no doubt was the secret of her
lasting hold on George’s affections. But even Ermengarda Melusina had
her foibles; she was avaricious (perhaps wisely so, for she knew that
the favour of princes was fickle), and she was not without her share of
vanity. To hear that her grasping propensities had been publicly derided
and her charms decried at the court of Dresden by that loose fish
Königsmarck was more than she could bear, and her tears of rage and
vexation made the Electoral Prince more bitter towards his wife’s lover
and more incensed with his wife. So altogether Königsmarck had a pretty
tempest brewing against his return to Hanover.
Meantime the unhappy Princess, railing more than ever against her
Hanoverian surroundings, was counting the days for her lover’s return in
her dull apartments in the old Leine Schloss, and seeking a pretext
which would serve to carry out her scheme of separation from her
husband. It was not long in coming. The sullen and silent Electoral
Prince as a rule avoided meeting his consort save in public; but one
day, provoked by the tears of Schulenburg and the tales from Dresden, he
burst into Sophie Dorothea’s apartments without ceremony, and upbraided
her coarsely for her favours to Königsmarck, telling her that she was
the by-word of the Saxon court. The Princess, who hated her husband with
a loathing which passes words to describe, was not slow to defend
herself. Her ancient grievance against Schulenburg lent a barbed tip to
her tongue, and with passion she retorted that it was not she, but her
husband and his scarecrow mistress who were the laughing stock of the
courts of Europe. She went on to say that the one thing she desired was
a divorce, to which the Prince retorted that he would be only too glad
to grant it to her, and would enter into any plan to bring it about.
Bitter recriminations followed, and the quarrel grew fiercer, until at
last, goaded beyond control by some taunt levelled at his mistress,
George Louis sprang at his wife, and, seizing her by the throat,
threatened to strangle her. The shrieks of the Princess brought
Knesebeck and other attendants rushing into the chamber, and then the
Prince relaxed his hold on his half-fainting wife, and threw her from
him, crying with an oath that he would never see her again. As soon as
she recovered, the Princess, still smarting under this brutal insult,
without asking leave of the Elector, as she ought to have done, set out
for Celle immediately, announcing, to all who cared to listen, her
intention of seeking her parents’ protection and of never returning to
Hanover. So far as her husband was concerned she declared that the
breach was irreparable, as indeed it proved to be.
Travelling nearly all night, the Princess arrived at Celle early in the
morning and threw herself at her astonished parents’ feet. To them she
told her pitiful story, pointing to the marks of violence which she bore
on her body and entreating their aid and shelter. The Duchess of Celle,
who loved her daughter beyond all things, took her part warmly, and
declared that nothing should part them again; but the Duke, influenced
by Bernstorff, refused to listen to his daughter, rebuked her for her
insubordination, and bade her roughly to return to Hanover and her duty.
He had no sympathy with her grievance against Schulenburg, and he bade
her take as an example of wifely duty her excellent mother-in-law, the
Electress Sophia, who never raised difficulties of this kind. No doubt
he thought the graceless Königsmarck was at the bottom of it all. In
truth, the Duke of Celle could ill afford a rupture with Hanover just
then. His brother had stood by him bravely throughout the war with the
Danes, which was far more his quarrel than the Elector’s. The danger was
not yet over, for the Danes were still threatening to invade his
territory, and their demands for indemnity had reduced his exchequer to
its lowest ebb. Thus there were reasons of state as well as of domestic
policy for his insisting on his daughter’s return and if he could have
had his way he would have packed her back to Hanover the same day. But a
man, even though he be a duke and a father, is apt to reckon without his
host where women are concerned, for, finding tears and prayers
unavailing, Sophie Dorothea promptly relapsed into violent hysterics.
Her mother declared her quite unfit to travel, and in this opinion she
was duly seconded by the court physician, who feared the strain on the
Princess’s reason.
There is little doubt that Sophie Dorothea was really ill—worn out by
anxiety and grief; and this, added to her husband’s brutality, and her
father’s repulse, reduced her to a state of nervous prostration from
which she took some weeks to recover. The old Duke, who really loved his
daughter after his fashion, though incensed at her conduct (and it must
be admitted she was a troublesome daughter), was moved by her illness
and distress, and, when he had posted a despatch to Hanover he gave her
leave to remain with her mother for a time, premising that she must
return to Hanover and her duty as soon as she was able to travel. He
could grant her this favour the more easily, as the Elector and
Electress were setting out for Wiesbaden for a cure, and the court would
be away from Hanover for the time being. So Sophie Dorothea stayed on
with her mother at Celle in absolute retirement, seeing no one, her
health being still delicate, and when the court moved to Brockhausen she
went there too with her parents.[220] Whenever she had an opportunity
she renewed her entreaties to her father to give her a separate
establishment, but he sternly refused.
-----
Footnote 220:
Cresset’s _Despatches_, Celle.
-----
Smarting under her disappointment, the Princess wrote the letters to her
lover, complaining bitterly of her father’s harshness, which afterwards
told so heavily against her, and alienated the only powerful friend she
had in the world.
The Princess went to Celle at the end of April, soon after Königsmarck’s
departure for Dresden; she remained there and at Brockhausen all through
May, and it was not until the middle of June that the Duke of Celle
insisted on sending her back to Hanover. The Elector and Electress had
now returned from Wiesbaden, and had signified their willingness to
welcome back their errant daughter-in-law; moreover, the Electoral
Prince, who had incurred his share of blame for bringing about this
family scandal, had gone to Berlin on a visit to his sister, the
Electress of Brandenburg. It was thought advisable that he should absent
himself for a time from his wife, and meanwhile the parents hoped to
patch up again the outward semblance of a reconciliation between the
ill-mated pair, as they had often done before. The Princess would
therefore not have to face the ordeal of meeting her husband immediately
on her return to Hanover, and as she was now better, the Duke of Celle
insisted that she should go back, as her absence for so long a time was
creating a scandal. In vain the Princess wept and prayed. The Duke,
prompted by Bernstorff, bade her roughly go back to her duty. It is
possible that had he temporised, or held out hope of granting her
request, the catastrophe which afterwards wrecked the happiness of his
daughter might have been averted. But the Duke was nothing of a
diplomatist; he was simply a headstrong old man, and unfortunately the
Princess had inherited from him a similar temperament. Thus, driven to
bay, she lost her temper and threatened desperate courses. Words passed
between her and her father which were never forgotten nor quite
forgiven. In vain the Duchess of Celle tried to make peace, but between
two such headstrong natures her words were only oil to the flames. There
was nothing for the Princess to do but to return to the place she had
left two months before vowing she would never see it again. This meant
the triumph of the Platen faction and the public humiliation of the
Princess. To her proud spirit it was worse than death.
Thus thrust from her father’s gates, Sophie Dorothea set out on her
return journey, her heart full of anger and revolt. A message had been
sent to Celle that the Elector and Electress would be happy to receive
her at Herrenhausen, where they were now staying. The road from Celle
ran past the gates of Herrenhausen, which was situated about a mile from
Hanover. It was expected and required by the rigid etiquette of German
courts that the Princess on her return should call and pay her respects
to the head of the family (appearances must be kept up at all hazard);
and, advised from Celle of the day and hour she would return, the
Elector and Electress and their court assembled to receive her with due
formality. The courtiers, who knew all the circumstances of the case,
were on the tip-toe of expectation to see how the Princess would demean
herself. Countess Platen, more eager than the rest, and anxious to
triumph over her fallen foe, craned her head out of the window to see if
the Princess were coming, just as she and her sister, Madame Weyhe, had
done once before, when Sophie Dorothea made her first entry into Hanover
as a bride on the occasion of her ill-omened marriage. The Princess’s
carriage was heard approaching, the outriders were already visible, the
gates of Herrenhausen were thrown open, when to every one’s astonishment
the Princess leant forward and, without stopping the carriage, bade the
coachman drive as fast as he could past Herrenhausen into Hanover.
The astonishment of the courtiers, and the indignation of the Elector
and Electress at seeing themselves thus publicly flouted, knew no
bounds. One must understand the rigidity of German court etiquette at
that period to appreciate the enormity of the Princess’s offence; it was
not merely an act of discourtesy, but one of revolt. It is impossible
not to sympathise with the spirit which dictated this act, for even if
there had been no other reason, the presence of Countess Platen was
sufficient to justify it.
Arrived at Hanover, the Princess went at once to her apartments in the
Leine Schloss, and there, attended only by the faithful Knesebeck, who
followed her mistress still, albeit with fear and trembling, she gave
out that she was ill, and steadily refused to see any one. Her conduct
was at once reported to Celle, and those in authority were at a loss to
know what to do. The situation was one which certainly could not be
maintained for long, and the excuse that the Princess made was seized
upon to deceive the world, and a polite fiction was circulated to the
effect that the Princess’s health had broken down during the journey to
Hanover, and she would shortly return and join her parents at
Wienhausen. We cannot but admire the decorum with which these Hanoverian
princes tried to hush up their family scandals. Ill the Princess
undoubtedly was, but it was an illness of the mind rather than of the
body. She was sick unto death of Hanover and its surroundings and, all
the time when she was refusing to see any one, she was maturing a
desperate plan of flight.