AGNES STRICKLAND'S QUEENS OF ENGLAND
Abridged
By Rosalie Kaufman
Vol. III. (Of III)
Fully Illustrated
Boston
Estes & Lauriat
1882
NOTE.
In presenting this last volume of Queens of England to our readers, we
are glad to say that we have been permitted to carry the story through
the entire history of that country, from the Conquest to the present
day. We present a more complete, although less extended account than is
given in any volume or series of volumes now before the public. We feel
sure that the interest has been continued unabated from the beginning,
and that not only pleasure but real profit will be derived from a
careful perusal of every page of these three volumes. It is true that
some eminent names and many noteworthy events have been sacrificed; but
nothing has been omitted which has been requisite for the comprehension
of events which have depended upon them. Those who follow carefully
the story of these famous characters, will find suggestions which will
prompt them to independent inquiry and landmarks which will indicate a
more elaborate and complete course of study.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
Sebastopol...........................................Frontispiece
India.........................................................014
Revocation of the Edict of Nantes,............................017
Zell..........................................................025
Sophia Dorothea of Zell.......................................033
The Bower.....................................................039
George I......................................................053
Caroline Wilhelmina Dorothea of Anspach.......................061
Lady Walpole's Reception......................................069
Sir Robert Walpole............................................083
George II.....................................................101
Kensington Palace.............................................115
Landing of George II..........................................121
Stoke Pogis Church............................................125
The Ivy Tower.................................................127
Charlotte Sophia..............................................137
William Pitt..................................................145
Garrick's Villa...............................................153
George III....................................................157
Cedar from Kew Gardens........................................163
Carlton House.................................................173
Pox...........................................................175
William Pitt the Younger......................................183
What a Little Place you Occupy................................195
Caroline of Brunswick.........................................205
Cowley's House................................................217
Country-scat..................................................223
View from Richmond Hill.......................................229
Hampton Court.................................................237
George IV.....................................................245
The Grotto....................................................231
Warwick Castle................................................259
Kensington Gardens............................................269
Caroline Refused Admittance to Westminster Abbey..............277
Adelaide Louisa...............................................281
O'Connell Haranguing the People...............................287
Lafayette.....................................................303
Queen Victoria................................................311
Victoria at the age of Eight..................................318
Marshal Soult.................................................325
The Youthful Queen............................................328
Street in Coburg..............................................335
Sir Robert Peel...............................................345
Houses of Parliament..........................................357
Beethoven's House at Bonn.....................................365
Castle of Coburg..............................................369
Lord John Russell.............................................373
Orleans House.................................................376
Drawing-room at Balmoral......................................379
Scene in Ireland..............................................385
Duke of Wellington............................................395
Lord Aberdeen.................................................403
Custom-House, Dublin..........................................408
Charge of the Light Brigade...................................413
Park of St. Cloud.............................................419
Capture of the Malakoff.......................................423
Calcutta......................................................433
Sans-Souci....................................................441
Frankfort-on-the-Main.........................................451
Windsor Castle................................................459
An old Castle on the Thames...................................463
The "San Jacinto" stopping the "Trent"........................465
Queen Victoria................................................473
STORIES OF THE LIVES OF THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND.
Compiled From Agnes Strickland, For Young People, By Rosalie Kaufman
{014}
[Illustration: 0020]
THE QUEENS OF ENGLAND. {015}
CHAPTER I. SOPHIA DOROTHEA OF ZELL, WIFE OF GEORGE I.
(A.D. 1666-1726.)
|When the Edict of Nantes was revoked by Louis XIV., of which mention
has been made in a previous reign, persecutions that equalled the
never-to-be-forgotten St. Bartholomew, followed, and being spread over
a longer period, affected a larger number of victims. This Edict had
permitted to Protestants the free observance of their religion so long
that when it was repealed it was a cruel blow, though perhaps a triumph
to Roman Catholics. Those faithful adherents to Protestantism who
refused to become converts were executed or imprisoned; but thousands
escaped and fled, leaving their property to be confiscated to the crown,
while they sought refuge, strangers in a strange land, with poverty
staring them in the face. Those were times when horrors unspeakable were
of daily occurrence. Armed bodies of dragoons went from town to town
in France, barbarously butchering the terror-stricken men, women, and
children, who had failed to confess and receive the sacrament according
to the mode prescribed by the king; while thousands hastened at the
point of the sword to do so, pretending, in order to escape massacre,
that {016}they had suddenly awakened to the error of their former ways.
When the report of these conversions--if we may so call the cowardice
that compelled myriads to take false oaths out of sheer desperation--was
carried to the willingly-duped King of France, he raised his eyes to
Heaven, amazed at the miracle, which he pronounced, in the presence of
his fawning courtiers, more wonderful than many of those recounted in
Scripture. But he knew as well as his bishops did, that "a man convinced
against his will is of the same opinion still."
We have said that some of the Protestants escaped their persecutors;
among the number of these lucky beings was Alexander D'Esmiers, Marquis
D'Olbreuse, a gallant gentleman of Poictiers, who, with his daughter,
Eleanora, sought refuge in Brussels. It was not long before this
beautiful, accomplished French girl was introduced into the gay society
of that gay city, where she was courted and admired by many of the
beaux, and no doubt envied and criticized by the belles.
[[A.D. 1665.]] It was at a grand court ball that this young girl first
became acquainted with Duke George William, second son of George, Duke
of Brunswick-Lunebourg, and heir to the dukedom of Zell. The duke fell
violently in love, for the first time in his life, though he had been
a traveller for some years, and was noted for his gallantry among the
ladies with whom he had flirted in various parts of the world. With
the awakening of this sentiment, George William, who had been rather a
taciturn man, became eloquent in his love-pleadings; he had never cared
to study, but a sudden desire to perfect himself in the French language
took hold of him, and he begged the beautiful Eleanora to assist him
with the intricacies of her native tongue. She consented, and throughout
the bright,
{017}
[Illustration: 0023]
{019}warm summer days, this youthful teacher and pupil were seen
strolling together in the park, or seated, books in hand, beneath the
shade of some wide-spreading tree, industriously pursuing their studies.
But of all the verbs in the language, the one which most interested this
pair was _aimer_, "to love," and they learned to conjugate its various
moods and tenses, which led, in their regular course, at last, to
marriage. This took place in the autumn of 1665, when Eleanora was
twenty-six years of age. Her title then became Lady Von Harburg, from an
estate so called, belonging to the duke.
This union proved a most happy one; for, with mutual affection,
confidence, and respect, the duke and his wife held their little
court free from the intrigues and anxieties that ruffled the peace and
happiness of most of the more important ones of their day. The only
fault that her subjects ever found with the high-minded, estimable Lady
Von Harburg was, that she surrounded herself with French attendants;
but it is no wonder she preferred to do so, if we consider that she was
always regarded by the jealous Germans as an intruder, even though she
had united her interest with theirs by marrying one of their countrymen.
So long as her husband approved of her choice of attendants, Eleanora
heeded not the railings of the envious; but occupied her mind and time
with wholesome, sensible pursuits.
[[A.D. 1666.]] Her first child, the subject of this history, was born on
the fifteenth of September, 1666. She was named Sophia Dorothea, which
means, Wisdom, the gift of God, and she needed an unusual amount of this
endowment, when she became a woman, to support her under the miserable
trials a cruel husband laid upon her. But we must not tell about that
yet. As a child, Sophia Dorothea was a source of delight to her fond
parents, and filled {020}their home with sunshine and happiness. Alas!
if they could have looked into the future, sooner would they have laid
their little darling in the grave than see her live to drag out a weary
existence to its bitter end. Perhaps it is well that they could not, for
they had three other children that died in infancy; and consolation for
their loss was always to be found in the possession of their charming,
interesting, constantly improving little Sophia Dorothea.
Under all her trials, the mother proved herself a true woman, and
so increased her husband's respect and esteem for her that he became
anxious to have her title equal to his own; for, at the time of their
marriage, there had been some complications that prevented. So he set
to work to accomplish this, and after a vast amount of trouble,
petitioning, delay and expense, at last succeeded. Then the Lady von
Harburg became Countess von Wilhelmsburg and Duchess of Zell. This
gratified the duke, though it did not enhance his wife's happiness, for
she had been perfectly contented before, and craved no title more lofty
than the one she had.
Nothing ever interfered with the care for her little daughter, who was
tenderly and religiously trained; and unspoiled by the flattery that
would have been showered upon her, had anybody suspected that she was
one day to become Queen of England. When Sophia Dorothea was about seven
years of age, she had for a playfellow, Philip von Kônigsmark, whose
father was a warm personal friend to the duke. Philip was at Zell, at
the time of which we speak, for purposes of education, and spent most
of his leisure hours with the little girl in the garden of the palace.
These two children became very fond of each other, and the gossips
about the court shook their heads knowingly as they prophesied a future
marriage, in an undertone. But they were false prophets, for a very
different fate awaited the two guileless, happy children.
[[A.D. 1673.]] {021}Before Sophia Dorothea had reached the age of ten,
Philip was called back to his old home, and for awhile he passes out
of our story, although we shall hear more of him some years later.
The little girl missed him sadly at first, but other companions were
provided for her, and she soon became reconciled to the absence of
Philip. She continued her studies, and gave early promise of becoming a
handsome, virtuous, accomplished woman. She was an heiress too, and that
by no means diminished her attractions. To be sure, her fortune was not
large; but fifteen thousand pounds was better than nothing,--at least
so thought her cousin, Augustus Frederick, Crown-Prince of
Brunswick-Wôlfenbuttel, who sought her hand a few months after the
departure of Philip von Konigsmark. Sophia Dorothea was fond of this
young kinsman after her child fashion, and so a formal betrothal took
place. But Augustus Frederick was a soldier, and according to his ideas
of chivalry, he could not claim his lady love until he had distinguished
himself on the battle-field; so, filled with courage and hope, he bade
farewell to the little girl, and marched to the siege of Philipsburg. He
fought valiantly, and, like a true knight, proved himself worthy of the
little lady of his choice; but alas! towards the close of the battle,
a fatal bullet put an end to his existence. Thus was Sophia Dorothea
deprived of a husband whose death affected her only slightly at the
time, but whom she learned to regret many years later, and no doubt
thought with the poet:--
"Of all sad words of tongue or pen,
The saddest are these: 'It might have been.'"
[[A.D. 1676.]] Now we must leave Sophia Dorothea, and while she
is developing into womanhood, tell about people who became closely
connected with the vicissitudes of her life after she was deprived of a
mother's care.
[[A.D. 1678.]] {022}The Duke of Zell had a brother, older than himself,
who was married to Sophia, daughter of Frederick and Elizabeth, the
short-lived King and Queen of Bohemia. This Sophia is the electress of
Hanover, mentioned in Queen Anne's reign as Protestant heiress to the
throne of England through her descent from James I. Ernest Augustus,
first Duke of Hanover, husband to this lady, was a pompous, ostentatious
man, who took Louis XIV. for his model in life, but in so doing imitated
his vices rather than his virtues, and became an unfaithful, neglectful
husband to a good woman. But Sophia was a person of rare intellect
and common sense, and though not unmindful of the duke's neglect, she
managed to forget her wrongs by occupying herself with literary and
other pursuits.
Ernest Augustus was almost as much under the influence of a woman as we
have seen that Queen Anne was during the early part of her reign;
but this one managed more adroitly than did the imperious, hot-headed
Duchess of Marlborough, and so retained her position.
[[A.D. 1680.]] Catherine and Elizabeth von Meissengen were two bright,
lively, ambitious sisters, who made their appearance at the Court of
Hanover, where they excited a great deal of curiosity and interest. Both
were handsome, and dressed so well that the German ladies accepted their
pretty, tasteful costumes as models for their own, while the gentlemen
flocked to the drawing-room of these sisters, who gave entertainments
so delightful in their character as to attract young and old, men
and women. Even the members of the royal family honored these witty,
fascinating ladies with their visits, and so for a time they became the
lionesses of Hanover.
We have said that the Von Meissengen ladies were ambitious, and so they
were; they had come to court to seek {023}their fortunes, and aimed so
high as the heir to the throne himself. But that young man, whose name
was George Louis, was not to be won by their wiles, and so in course of
time they began to look lower, and succeeded in captivating the private
tutors of the Hanover princes. Everybody was astonished when, at the
close of a short summer vacation, Catherine von Meissengen reappeared in
society as Madame Busche, and her sister Elizabeth as Madame von Platen.
[[A.D. 1681.]] Having secured these learned men for husbands was all
very well so far as it went, but Elizabeth immediately began to plan
and intrigue until she succeeded in getting her husband appointed prime
minister to Ernest Augustus. That made her mistress of the situation,
for though Von Platen was not weak-minded, his wife was strong, and not
only ruled him but the sovereign besides. We have related so much about
this woman, an _intriguante_ of the deepest dye, because it was she who
chiefly controlled the destiny of poor Sophia Dorothea.
The routine of the court of Zell continued with little variation from
year to year, the monotony being broken only now and then by the
arrival of some guest. One of these was Prince Augustus William von
Wôlfenbuttel, brother of the soldier who had early courted little Sophia
Dorothea, and who lost his life on the battle-field of Philipsburg.
This young man was not rich, but he was handsome, and his position and
character were excellent. He owned a small estate, sufficient to insure
the comfort of himself and wife as soon as he could find one whom he
could fancy, and who would accept him. His choice fell on his cousin,
Sophia Dorothea, and he had an eye, too, to her dower, which, though not
large, would help to maintain his princely state. So he wooed her, and
soon won her heart. But the {024}course of true-love did not run smooth,
for the Duke of Zell objected to the match, which of course only served
to increase the passion of the lovers. To be sure Sophia Dorothea was a
dutiful daughter, and would have yielded to her father's objections had
they been reasonable; but he was forced to admit that the lovers were
well-suited to each other, and only opposed their marriage because, like
many Germans of his day, he was absurdly superstitious. It seemed to him
a sacrilege for his daughter to wed the brother of her dead lover, and
he did not see how anything but bad luck could result from such a step.
So the young girl begged her mother to intercede for her, and the worthy
lady proved such a powerful mediator that her husband's consent was
finally won.
[[A.D. 1682.]] Even then matters were by no means settled to the
satisfaction of the lovers, for Madame von Platen had something to say
on the subject. Several times had this female prime minister consulted
with Ernest Augustus as to the most advisable manner of disposing of the
hand of his son, George Louis, in marriage, providing the proper person
could be found. In an evil hour for Sophia Dorothea, the worthy pair
decided that greater importance would accrue to the electorate of
Hanover by the acquisition of the broad acres of Zell. That was enough;
for with Madame von Platen to desire was to have, and no obstacle could
stand in the way of anything she had set her heart on. Sophia Dorothea
was engaged certainly, but that made no difference; everything, hearts,
hopes, happiness, must give way to political ambition. So a regular plot
was laid to destroy the bond that existed between Augustus William and
his lady-love.
Let us take a look at the young man who was to be substituted for
the handsome, noble, brilliant, and fondly loved Augustus William of
Wolfenbuttel. At the time of which
{025}
[Illustration: 0031]
{027}we speak, George Louis was twenty-two years of age, undersized,
coarse-minded, ungentlemanly, and mean-spirited. He was good-natured,
to be sure; and, like all the princes of the House of Brunswick, he was
brave on the battle-field, but he had no sympathy with suffering and
sorrow, and none of the qualities that are apt to attract a young girl.
He was in England when the powers at Hanover decided to marry him to
poor, innocent little Sophia Dorothea, and as ignorant of the plot as
she was. On his way thither he had visited William of Orange, to whom he
confided the object of his journey. This was to offer his hand and heart
to Princess Anne, and it is easy to believe what is generally suspected:
that William himself encouraged Madame Von Platen in the intrigues that
recalled George Louis and brought about the marriage that caused so
much misery. The reason why it is probable that William of Orange would
endeavor to prevent a union between George Louis and Princess Anne is,
that although his wife was heiress presumptive to the throne, in the
event of her death, which, as we know, occurred before his, he would not
have been permitted to govern alone had the House of Brunswick been
so powerfully represented in England, and to avoid complications, he
preferred to have George Louis safely married and settled out of the
way.
Meanwhile, with the firm conviction that in William of Orange he had a
friend ready to further his cause, George of Hanover arrived in England,
and was received as befitted his rank by Charles II., and entertained
at Whitehall Palace, where apartments had been prepared for him. Then he
was introduced to the Princess Anne; but it is not probable that he made
a very favorable impression on her, for she afterwards married Prince
George of Denmark, with whom she lived happily until the day of his
death. {028}It is certain, however, that George Louis had some hopes
of success with Anne, for when he was suddenly and most unexpectedly
recalled home, he was dreadfully perplexed. Nevertheless, he obeyed the
summons of his royal father without suspecting the cause of it. He must
have been somewhat astonished when it was announced to him that he was
to transfer his ideas of matrimony from one object to another.
Having made up his mind that an alliance with the House of Zell would be
advantageous to that of Hanover, Ernest Augustus found no difficulty in
persuading his brother to postpone the marriage of his daughter, Sophia
Dorothea, with Augustus of Wôlfenbuttel on the score of her youth, as
she was only fifteen years of age, he argued, and too young to become
a wife. Anxious as he was to retain possession of his child for another
year, the Duke of Zell was only too willing to listen to any argument
that would accomplish that object, so he consented to a betrothal only,
and postponed the marriage for a year. What reasoning he employed to
make the young lovers agree to this arrangement, is not known; but
Augustus went off evidently satisfied that the prize he was to get was
worth waiting for, and with no suspicion that treachery would deprive
him of his lady love.
No sooner was he well out of the way, than Ernest Augustus, Madame Von
Platen, and others busied themselves in endeavoring to bring their plot
to a climax. Months rolled by, Sophia Dorothea celebrated her sixteenth
birthday; George Louis visited her from time to time, but he had made
no impression whatever on the young girl, and the series of intrigues
concocted by the old heads for the ruin of young hearts would have been
utterly worthless had it not been for the active and efficient zeal of
one person, who, just when failure seemed {029}imminent, stepped in to
prove the worth of her energy and power. That person was Sophia, mother
to George Louis, a crafty, designing woman, ambitious as any of her
family, who, having seen the advantage to be derived from the marriage
of her son with her niece Sophia Dorothea, was determined that it should
take place.
She had heard rumors of an engagement with Augustus of Wôlfenbuttel; but
that was a matter of small consideration in her eyes, and so long as no
marriage had taken place, it was not too late for her son to supplant
the favored lover. The great, heavy family coach was therefore ordered
to be put in readiness for a journey of about thirty miles, which
an ordinary railway train of to-day would make in an hour. But two
centuries ago travelling was a more serious matter, and it took the
duchess all night to reach the ducal palace of Zell.
The sleepy sentinel was astonished when the lady pushed past him, and,
totally regardless of anything like ceremony, breathlessly requested the
servants she met in the hall to conduct her at once to the duke. She was
told that he was dressing, but would soon come down stairs to see her if
she would have the goodness to wait in a' reception-room.
But the lady was too impatient to lose a moment, so mounted the stairs,
and bade the groom of the bed-chamber to point out the door of the
duke's dressing-room. Without going through the formality of an
announcement, or making known her presence by a knock, the duchess
unceremoniously pushed open the door, while the scarcely half-dressed
duke gazed at the intruder in amazement.
Without deigning to apologize for her abrupt entrance, the sister-in-law
bounced herself into a chair, and having remarked that she had come on
important business, asked suddenly: "Where is your wife?" The Duke of
Zell had {030}not recovered his composure sufficiently to reply, but
pointed to the adjoining chamber, through the open door of which a large
bed was visible, where, beneath the covers, Duchess Eleanora lay safely
ensconced, wondering what could have prompted so early a visit. But
although she strained her ears to listen, she was not soon to be
gratified; for "Old Sophia," who had begun her interview in French, at
once changed to German, when she remembered how imperfectly the Duchess
of Zell understood that language.
The less she comprehended of the argument that the wife of Ernest
Augustus was so impressively setting forth, the more did she endeavor to
catch a word here and there; and when she heard the name of her
daughter coupled with that of George Louis again and again, she began
to understand as well as though the whole case had been put in her own
native tongue.
The Duke of Zell was easily convinced, particularly as he had never
favored his daughter's marriage with the brother of her dead lover; and
the mother of George Louis eloquently set forth the advantages to be
derived from a union between the heir of Hanover and the heiress of
Zell, adding the possibility of Sophia Dorothea some day becoming Queen
of England. The clever sister-in-law completely dazzled her listener
with all the bright hopes she held out, and returned to Hanover after
having obtained the Duke of Zell's solemn promise that he would break
off his daughter's match with her lover, and bestow her hand upon George
Louis.
That morning's work rendered three people miserable,--the loving
mother, the young girl, and the lover, whose happiness was sacrificed to
increase the territory of one heartless man and to gratify the ambition
of another. The duke loved his daughter; but all her prayers, sobs, and
entreaties {031}failed to weigh against his sinful ambition. He turned
a deaf ear to his wife, too, who assured him that their child detested
George Louis, and that he had neither respect nor affection for _her_.
It was a pitiable case, for had the people who planned this hateful
match set out with no other motive than the breaking of a young girl's
heart, and the utter destruction of all her bright hopes, they could not
more thoroughly have succeeded.
It would be needless to follow all the arrangements and make-believe
courtship that followed the visit of Duchess Sophia, and it would be
too painful to recount the sufferings of the poor child of sixteen,
who, with her heart filled with the image of the man she had promised
to marry, was forced to give her hand to one of the least attractive
creatures she had ever beheld.
Suffice it to say that the marriage between George Louis of Hanover and
Sophia Dorothea of Zell was celebrated with unusual splendor, on the
twenty-first of November; and the Electress Sophia congratulated herself
on the success of her undertaking. She had brought about the marriage
that was deemed advisable. The bride's toilet was superb, and every
detail of the nuptial festivities was carried out with more than
ordinary pains; what cared she then, though the tear-stained face of the
bride told of her sufferings? She had achieved a triumph, and that was
sufficient; for the Electress Sophia was not honorable enough to feel
that any wrong had been done to the deserted lover of her niece, and she
was never known to hesitate to employ any means, just or otherwise, for
the attainment of her ends. Yet she was a woman much admired in society,
witty, brilliant in conversation, and handsome. Men of ability were
pleased to talk with her, and she was remarkable for her logical style
of argument, often coming off victorious in the war of words.
Even Leibnitz, the {032}great German philosopher, was proud of her
friendship, and often laughingly said of her "that she not only
invariably asked _why_, but the _why_ of whys." He meant that she would
accept no reason that she did not clearly comprehend. In this respect
she is certainly worthy of imitation.
But to return to the little bride. The parting from her mother was a
sore trial to both, and one from which the latter never recovered, for
she always appeared like a person bowed down beneath the weight of a
great sorrow. As for the daughter, she went to Hanover, where for a time
she was at least less unhappy than at any future period of her life. Her
husband treated her shamefully from the first, but she did not love him
enough to be wounded by his neglect, and she found solace in the regard
shown her by her father-in-law, Ernest Augustus, who esteemed her very
highly.
[[A.D. 1683.]] Another comfort that Sophia Dorothea had in course of
time was a little boy, who was born on the thirtieth of October, 1683.
He was named George Augustus, and many years later ascended the throne
of England as George II. In 1684 a little daughter was added to the
family. She was named for her mother, and like her brother ascended a
throne, but it was as the wife of a King of Prussia.
[[A.D. 1684.]] She had contrived to win the good opinion of Ernest
Augustus as well as his wife, both of whom regarded her as an ornament
to their court. They treated her with a great deal of consideration, and
no doubt sympathized with her because of the selfish, brutal behavior
of their son towards her. But Ernest Augustus was so indiscreet as
to praise her on several occasions, and that was more than Madame von
Platen could stand. He even went so far as to consult her, and such a
proceeding filled the soul of Madame, the prime minister, with hatred.
{033}
[Illustration: 0039]
{035}Not only did she hate Sophia Dorothea, because she was in favor
with Ernest Augustus, but for another and a very unjust reason, as
it was connected with the Duchess of Zell, and her daughter could not
possibly have had any hand in the affair.
One day Ernest Augustus went to make a call at the house of Madame von
Platen, as he frequently did; the lady was not at home, but her pretty,
bright, rather forward maid was, and in the absence of her mistress set
herself out to entertain the old elector. "Use"--that was the name of
the girl, and quite an appropriate one--had a remarkable talent for
story-telling, and had just completed one of the most brilliant she
knew, for the entertainment of her royal listener, who was laughing
heartily when Madame von Platen suddenly stood before them. The lady was
not more shocked at the elector's lack of dignity than at the servant's
audacity. The one she dared not attack, the other she could, and most
certainly would, punish forthwith.
However, for the moment she only "looked daggers," and the royal visitor
soon took his departure. The next day he went to one of his palaces in
the country to spend a few weeks. What Madame von Platen said to
her pert handmaid is not recorded; but so great was her influence in
Hanover, that during the elector's absence, she had the girl locked up
in jail on a charge of scandalous conduct. Poor Use was treated very
unkindly while a captive, and at last in obedience to her mistress's
order, actually drummed out of the town.
Now one would suppose that the wife of the elector might have interfered
to prevent such harsh treatment; but she was too much occupied with her
studies to take interest in such matters, and even if she had, she would
have found how much greater was Madame von Platen's power than her
own. {036}So poor Use found herself outside the city walls, penniless,
disgraced, friendless. She wandered through the country until, footsore
and hungry, she arrived at the palace of Zell, where, upon being
admitted, she frankly related her troubles to the duchess. That lady's
sympathy was at once aroused, and although she told the giddy girl that
she had done wrong, she could not but own to herself that the punishment
for so slight an offence had been very heavy. Therefore, after due
consideration and a short consultation with her husband, she gave the
girl an asylum and employment in her household.
This was the head and front of the Duchess of Zell's offending, so far
as Madame von Platen was concerned, and this was the insult that she
resolved to revenge on the head of poor Sophia Dorothea.
[[A.D. 1686.]] George Louis had for a long time been encouraged in his
ill-treatment of his wife, not only by the vile Madame von Platen,
but by her equally vile sister, Madame von Busche, of whom we have not
spoken since her marriage. Her husband had died meanwhile, and it was
on the occasion of her second marriage with General Wreyke that the two
sisters had arranged to complete the unhappiness of Sophia Dorothea.
Previously they had invited a certain young lady to their fêtes, and
presented her to George Louis, with the understanding that she was
to captivate him, and as she had not much wit but a great deal of
shrewdness and some skill as a flatterer, there was little doubt
that she would succeed. This girl was so tall that she was called the
"Maypole," and she had a very long name--it was Ermengarda Melusina von
Schulem-berg. She courted and cajoled George Louis until he really began
to believe that he could not exist without her.
It was a curious state of morals when a prince could unite himself by
what was called a left-hand marriage to {037}two or three women after
he had one wife, as if it could possibly make any actual difference
on which hand the wedding-ring was placed. Yet, so it was with George
Louis, who was just on the eve of contracting a left-hand marriage with
Ermengarda, when Madame von Busche celebrated her second nuptials.
This ceremony took place at the house of her sister, Madame von Platen;
Sophia Dorothea was invited, and it was all arranged that as soon as
she entered the drawing-room, George Louis was to open the ball with
Ermengarda, whose intimacy was to be made so clear to the injured wife
that she could not misunderstand.
But there were too many in the secret, Sophia Dorothea got wind of it
and remained at home, though she sent her lady of honor, the Countess
von Knesebeck, to make her apologies on the score of illness. It need
scarcely be said that this lady reported all that happened at the ball,
and that the neglected wife was not less miserable because she had not
been an eye-witness to it.
Before we can tell more about her it is necessary to speak of others
whose lives were connected with hers, and we will begin with her
playmate of early days, Philip von Kônigsmark.
After his departure from Zell he lived with various members of his
family, travelled about with them, and returned at intervals to reside
with his mother, who lived to witness the many misfortunes that overtook
her children. Charles John was Philip's older brother, and often visited
at the Court of England, where his brilliant qualities rendered him a
welcome guest. In course of time Philip joined him in that country,
and was placed at college to complete his education. Leaving him there,
Charles John visited at the various courts of Europe, where he excited
the admiration of the women and the envy of the men. At the age of
twenty-two he joined an expedition against Tangier, {038}distinguished
himself on the battle-field, and return to to England a hero.
This young man was, like his brother, a beauty, but he was also a
worthless, wicked scoundrel. He did not excel Philip in crime, however,
for he was one of the greatest scamps of the seventeenth century, and
the two brothers assassinated Tom Thynne of Longleat, one Sunday evening
when he was riding along in his carriage, though the poor man had given
them no provocation. This was in 1682, and the dreadful deed created
great excitement for a time. Philip von Kônigsmark managed to make his
escape, but the bolder Charles John pleaded his own cause before a jury
and was acquitted, only because he was in favor at court, while his
assistants were executed. He knew that a stigma rested on his name, but
he was too barefaced to care for that. "Tut," he said, "it will all be
wiped out by some dazzling action in war," and so he went to France and
joined a regiment, and during the next few years he was frequently heard
of on the various battle-fields. The blot on the name of Kônigsmark
remained, but Charles John was sent out of the world by a bullet that
put an end to his existence in 1686 when he was in the service of the
Venetians.
Now let us see what became of Philip. Shortly after the murder of
Thynne he arrived in Hanover, where he was soon appointed to the post
of Colonel of the Guards. He was considered the handsomest and richest
colonel in the army, and displayed exquisite taste in his dress and his
equipages. With wonderfully fascinating manners, a good education, ready
wit, and considerable experience, he made himself agreeable to a great
variety of people. Among those was his old friend and playfellow, Sophia
Dorothea, and it is not at all unnatural that she should have been
pleased to see him. But Madame von Platen was in love with him,
[[A.D. 1690.]] One day the princess had been walking in the garden when
she met her little boy, George Augustus, {039}herself, and jealously
watched every interview he had with the wife of George Louis, with the
intention of making mischief.
[Illustration: 0045]
{040}and taking him from his attendant, began to mount the stairs which
led to her own apartments, with the child in her arms. When half-way up
she met Philip Konigsmark, who seeing that the lady's burden was heavier
than she could bear, gallantly took the future King of England from
his mother's arms and bore him to the door of her apartments. After
exchanging a few commonplace remarks he returned the child and departed,
but not before Madame von Platen had seen enough to form a groundwork
for her plot. She ran, without a moment's delay, to Ernest Augustus,
and made out a long story, the result of which was a scolding for Sophia
Dorothea, though she could not see that it was deserved, for she had
done no harm.
At another time Madame von Platen managed to make George Louis find a
glove that had his wife's initials embroidered on it, in a bower from
which he had seen Philip hastily take his departure; but the wicked
woman did not tell him that it was she who had been there with the young
man, or that she had previously procured the glove on purpose to excite
his suspicion against his wife. Everything that Sophia Dorothea did was
distorted to such a degree that little by little the hatred of the once
friendly Ernest Augustus and his wife was aroused against her. No doubt
she often acted imprudently, but certainly her husband was to blame for
neglecting her as he did. At last driven to desperation by the angry
glances and unkind remarks of those who had been friendly, she began
secretly to make plans with Philip von Konigsmark for her escape to
Paris. This led to a correspondence, and Philip, who was vain as he
was bad, boasted among his friends of the confidence reposed in him by
Sophia Dorothea.
[[A.D. 1693.]] The Duke of Zell had been duly informed that his daughter
was obstinate, disrespectful to the elector, undutiful as a wife and
mother. Inquiry among her enemies {041}only served to confirm the
report, and, to his eternal shame be it said, the father turned against
his child. Not so the mother: she knew the disposition of Sophia
Dorothea too well to credit the dreadful charges brought against her,
and longed to take her back home and shield her from all harm. The young
woman was permitted at last to make a visit to Zell, where she would
gladly have remained, but although George Louis had almost strangled her
to death in a fit of temper, just before she left Hanover, her father
insisted that she should return, and in order to insure obedience,
attacked her in her most tender point. He told her that unless she went
back at once to her husband, she should be deprived of her children;
then she no longer asked to remain.
[[A.D. 1694.]] Philip von Konigsmark had been on a visit to Dresden, but
returned to Hanover shortly after Sophia Dorothea got back there. He was
surprised one day at receiving a note signed by her, requesting him to
come to her room. He obeyed without suspecting that the note had been
forged by Madame von Platen. The lady-of-honor admitted him, as much
surprised as was her mistress, the visit being made at rather an
unseemly hour. Sophia Dorothea remarked upon it, whereupon Philip
produced the note which the lady at once declared she had not written.
Of course he should immediately have taken his departure, but Sophia
Dorothea began to talk about her domestic troubles and the unkind
treatment to which she had been subjected even at Zell, whereupon Philip
advised her to run away, and so these two talked on, in the presence of
the lady-of-honor, for a couple of hours.
Meanwhile, Madame von Platen was by no means idle. She had her own
reasons for hating Philip von Konigsmark, which need not be recounted,
but that she really did hate him intensely, her conduct proves only too
clearly. She {042}had watched him until she was sure of his whereabouts,
then rushed to the old elector with a tale that she embellished and
adorned, until she got permission to have Philip arrested and locked
up. To nothing else would the old man consent, for he really believed
no harm of his daughter-in-law, but thinking that he would not lose this
opportunity of teaching the young gallant a lesson that he would not
soon forget, he gave Madame von Platen a written warrant for his arrest,
playfully adding as he did so: "I know that although you seem to be so
angry with Kônigsmark, he is too handsome a man to receive ill-treatment
at your hands."
Truly has a well-known English writer said: "Heaven has no rage like
love to hatred turned." Madame von Platen verified this in the desperate
means she employed to bring down her victim. Armed with the warrant
bearing the elector's signature, she proceeded to the soldiers' quarters
and demanded a guard of four or five men to do something that she would
explain to them. She led them to the Hall of Knights, through which
Kônigsmark was obliged to pass, when he left the princess's apartment,
and there, after bribing each man with a handful of gold pieces, gave
her instructions.
They were to arrest a criminal whose person was minutely described, and
he was on no account to be permitted to escape. If he used violence he
was to be slain on the spot, and the men were not only provided with
weapons for that purpose, but several bottles of wine to enable them to
"screw their courage to the sticking-place." They promised to obey, and
Madame von Platen left them.
In the Hall of Knights was one of those enormous white porcelain stoves,
reaching from the floor to the ceiling, that every one who has visited
Germany must have seen. Behind this the soldiers ensconced themselves.
Just as the tower {043}clock struck twelve, Kônigsmark approached,
unsuspicious of danger, and had just passed the stove when he was seized
from behind. He drew his sword and tried to defend himself, but
what chance had one man against four well-armed ones? After a little
skirmishing, a powerful stroke from an old-fashioned battle-axe, in
the hands of one of the guards, felled him to the floor. With his last
breath the wounded man faintly said, "Spare the innocent princess," and
expired.
The matter was hushed up, and no one, excepting those engaged in the
crime, knew what had become of the handsome, accomplished Philip von
Kônigsmark. Some years later his body was found under the floor of one
of the rooms just off the hall in which the murder took place.
Of course Sophia Dorothea was kept in ignorance of the assassination.
She was depending upon Kônigsmark to complete the arrangements for her
escape to Paris, and wondered what could have become of him. She asked
no questions, and would have received no satisfaction if she had done
so; for those who knew would have given her no information, and those
who were not in the secret wondered almost as much as she did. Suddenly
suspense gave place to alarm when she heard that all the papers
belonging to the murdered man had been seized and carried to the elector
for examination. Her notes regarding her intended escape were, of
course, among them. No wonder she was alarmed!
Madame von Platen read these notes with the elector, and so interpreted
the most trifling sentences as to give them a false meaning,--it
required no uncommon ingenuity to do that,--and von Platen it was who
informed Sophia Dorothea of the death of her friend Philip, though not
the manner of it. She was shocked and grieved, and naturally turned
to Mademoiselle von Knesebeck, the only friend left to her, for
consolation. {044}This lady-in-waiting was so much disposed to defend
her mistress, whom she loved, that it was deemed desirable that she
should be put out of the way; so she was arrested and locked up in the
Castle of Schwartzfeld, in the Hartz Mountains, where she remained for
several years. At last she escaped through the roof in a manner that
appeared so miraculous to the governor of the jail that he declared some
of the demons of the adjacent mountains had spirited her off.
Sophia Dorothea's one desire was to get away from Hanover, where she
knew that she was surrounded by enemies and spies ready to misconstrue
every action. At last, after a great deal of persuasion on her part, she
was permitted to withdraw to Lauenau, but not to take her children with
her. This was a sad deprivation to the poor young mother, and it almost
broke her heart to part with the little ones, whom she feared she should
never more behold; but go she would, for she had too much spirit to
remain in a place where she was daily subjected to the most shameful
insults.
After her departure a kind of a court, composed of church and state
officers, was formed to patch up a reconciliation between George Louis
and his wife. They did not accuse the princess of any dreadful crimes,
but of incompatibility of temper and little failings of character.
One would think that the husband and wife might have settled such
differences without the interference of a council of wise-acres. So they
might if they loved and respected each other, but, unfortunately, such
had never been the case.
Well, the lawyers waited on Sophia Dorothea by twos and threes, and
tried all the arguments they could devise to make her own that she was
wrong, and to show her how a dutiful, obedient wife ought to behave.
But {045}unlike Topsy in Uncle Tom's Cabin, she would not confess faults
that she had not committed. All the learned men of the court could make
no impression on the young woman, who felt that she had been shamefully,
wickedly wronged and neglected. Her husband was a bad man, and nobody
knew it better than she did; and all the lecturing, coaxing, and
manoeuvring of those who visited Sophia Dorothea at Lauenau could bring
from her no reply but this: "If I am guilty I am unworthy of the prince.
If I am innocent he is unworthy of me." She was right, and they could
only admire the dignity and purity of character that prompted such an
answer.
Nevertheless, before the end of the year sentence of divorce was
pronounced, on the plea of incompatibility of temper, and George Louis
was considered quite an injured individual. By way of consolation
all the property of his wife was transferred to him in trust for his
children; and with an annual pension of about ten thousand thalers, the
princess was condemned to close captivity in the castle of Ahlden,
near Zell, with a retinue of domestics who were to act as spies on her
actions, and a body of armed jailers to see that she did not escape.
Henry VIII. would have made shorter work of this matter, and simply have
chopped off his wife's head when he was tired of her; but George Louis
preferred to keep his shut up in a lonely castle for thirty-two years.
It is a question which was the more merciful, but certain it is, that
all Germany was scandalized at the decree of the court.
To such persecutions had Sophia Dorothea been subjected in Hanover that
she probably felt the truth of the verse which begins thus:--
"Stone walls do not a prison make,
Nor iron bars a cage--"
for she entered upon her imprisonment with a certain {046}sense of
calmness and repose in contrast to the weeks and months of misery,
excitement, and despair that she had endured.
[[A.D. 1699]]. Thenceforth she was known as the Princess of Ahlden,
though she was the only person deprived of liberty in the place. She had
a little court, and held her levees, which were attended by the officers
of the town, the clergy, the nobility, and gentry. All treated her
with great respect. For the first few years her captivity was not very
irksome, but after the escape of Mademoiselle Knesebeck she was never
allowed to walk in the gardens of the castle without a guard, or to
drive through the neighboring woods without an armed mounted escort.
Certain parts of the castle were even forbidden to her; and so much
importance was attached to this point that, on one occasion when a
fire broke out in the portion of the building where her apartments were
situated, she ran to the entrance of a certain gallery, where she stood
in fear and trembling, with her jewel-box in her hand, until permission
from the proper authorities was obtained for her to advance.
Time did not hang so heavily on the hands of the Princess of Ahlden as
one might suppose, for every hour had its occupation. She superintended
her estate, overlooked, the work of each of her servants, and gave
personal instructions to them, kept a diary of her thoughts and actions,
wrote a number of letters, and devoted much time to charity. She was the
Lady Bountiful of the district, and spent half her income in supplying
the wants of the poor.
There was a church in the village in a very dilapidated condition when
Sophia Dorothea went to Ahlden. She put it in thorough repair, had it
handsomely decorated, and supplied it with an organ; but no sooner was
it all in order than a chaplain was provided for her household, and she
was forbidden to attend the place of worship that she had {047}felt such
pleasure in fitting up. This was a serious disappointment, but by no
means the greatest of her trials; for she was not permitted to see any
of her relations,--only an occasional open letter was allowed to pass
between her and her mother, and she heard no more of her children than
if they had been dead and buried. The prince and princess were forbidden
to mention their mother or to think of her, and were threatened with
severe punishment if ever they did so.
In course of time the heart of the old elector warmed towards the lonely
prisoner of Ahlden, and he wrote her several letters; her father did
likewise, but he was a weak-hearted, weak-minded man who was easily
frightened into silence by certain ominous threats. He consoled himself
by making a will in which he bequeathed money, jewels, and lands to his
only daughter, and then left her to her fate.
[[A.D. 1700.]] There was great rejoicing at Hanover when the English
Parliament fixed upon the Electress Sophia as successor to Queen Anne.
The deputation that went from England to announce the welcome news
was received by the highest officials, lodged in the finest palace in
Hanover, and entertained in the most sumptuous manner, entirely at the
expense of George Louis. Grand balls and feasts were given in their
honor, and they went back home loaded with rare and costly presents.
[[A.D. 1705.]] A few years later Parliament passed an act naturalizing
the Princess Sophia and her family, and this made George Louis an
Englishman. Shortly after Hanover was in danger on account of the
approach of the French army, and then for a brief period the captive of
Ahlden was permitted to visit her parents at Zell. They wanted to keep
her with them always, and she begged to be allowed to stay, but was
refused. Her father had {048}treated her so affectionately during this
visit at his castle that his death, which occurred a few months after
her return to Ahlden, was a severe grief to her. An occasional interview
with her mother was always a solace to the prisoner, but any appeal for
a sight of her children was sternly refused. That was a bitter sorrow.
Prince George Augustus had been commanded to forget his mother, but he
did not obey; and one day, when he was hunting in the neighborhood of
her prison, he resolved to visit her, and brave the anger of his father
and the government. So he put spurs to his horse and galloped full speed
toward Ahlden. His attendants were astonished, but soon suspected his
intention and followed him. He went flying over the fields; but two of
his followers, who were better mounted than he was, overtook him at the
outskirts of the wood not far from the castle of Ahlden, and after
a great deal of coaxing and argument persuaded him to go back home.
Probably he was closely watched after that, for he does not seem to have
made another attempt to see his mother. It is to be hoped she never knew
how near he was to her that day, when a swifter steed might have been
the means of adding a ray of bright sunshine to her sad and lonely
existence. What would she not have given to gaze upon her boy and press
him to her heart? We wonder how even her enemies could have denied her
that comfort.
George Augustus was not shut up in a prison for disobedience; but,
with the hope of turning his thoughts away from his mother, a wife was
provided for him. Although his father had been so unfortunate as to
marry a woman he never loved, he did not take the precaution to insure
a better fate for his son. But we will consider his case hereafter.
For the present, it is only necessary to say that he was married to
Caroline, daughter of John Frederick, {049}Margrave of Anspach,--a
bright, lively, clever girl, the same age as himself.
The little court of Hanover was very gay that year, particularly when
the marriage of George Augustus was followed by that of his sister, who
became the wife of Frederick William, Crown Prince of Prussia. But the
young Sophia Dorothea had little happiness afterwards; for her husband
was a cruel brute, who governed his wife and children with a word and a
blow,--the-blow generally coming first. This couple made a bridal tour
to Brussels, where they remained for several days awaiting an invitation
from Queen Anne to visit her in England; but they waited in vain, for
her majesty took no notice of them whatever.
There existed at that time a strong party in England desirous that the
Electress of Hanover should visit them; but she preferred to stay where
she was and enjoy her books, cards, and philosophical studies with the
learned Leibnitz, until she should be summoned as queen. This suited
Queen Anne precisely, for she wanted no representative of the House of
Hanover in her dominion. She feared the effect of their presence upon
her subjects, and so used every effort in her power to keep them away.
Although Sophia did not desire to go to England herself just then she
was very much distressed because her son, who had been created Duke of
Cambridge, was prevented from taking his seat in the House of Peers.
The old lady often said that she cared not when she died, if on her tomb
could be recorded that "she was Queen of Great Britain and Ireland."
Queen Anne was very much offended when she heard these words, and it was
to appease her anger that Tom D'Urfey wrote the verse, given in the last
reign, for which he was rewarded with fifty pounds.
[[A.D 1714.]] The tomb of Electress Sophia never bore {050}the record
she sighed for, because on the 10th of June, 1714, she died, quite
suddenly. The old lady had been walking in her garden for an hour, when
a shower of rain came up, and she quickened her speed to get to a place
of shelter. One of her attendants, observing that she was out of breath,
warned her that she was exerting herself too much. "I believe I am," she
replied, with a gasp, as she dropped to the earth. Those were the
last words she ever uttered, for all efforts failed to restore her to
consciousness.
Meanwhile Sophia Dorothea remained at her castle of Ahlden, forgotten
excepting by her son-in-law, who wrote her numerous and most dutiful
letters, until he succeeded in securing the inheritance of all her
property for his wife beyond the shadow of a doubt. No sooner was that
accomplished than he not only ceased to write, but put a stop to all
communications of any sort between the mother and daughter. Thus was
the prisoner, who had not seen her child for many years, deprived of the
poor satisfaction of even an occasional letter from her. The daughter
had managed once, with the assistance of a confederate, to convey a
portrait of herself to the Princess of Ahlden, at another time a watch,
then some little trinket, accompanied by a letter containing words of
affection and hope; but the tyrant of a husband, Frederick William,
found it out, and of course put a stop to it.
Queen Anne's death occurred shortly after that of the Electress Sophia,
and the different political parties waited for her last breath, each
ready to proclaim a different successor; but while the Jacobites
hesitated, the Whigs were prompt to act, and the proclamation of George
I. took place in the presence of a vast concourse of people.
The news was carried to the imprisoned wife by one who, while professing
to be her friend, was acting as a spy. Again, {051}it is said, was an
attempt made at reconciliation on the part of George Louis; but his
injured wife repeated as before: "If I am guilty I am not worthy of
him; if I am innocent he is not worthy of me." Even with the prospect
of going to England as queen Sophia Dorothea could not descend to her
husband's level, and she never landed on the shores of that country of
which she was sovereign only in name.
As soon as George I. was proclaimed, a fleet was sent to convey him
to England, and he leisurely began his preparations for the voyage.
Meanwhile the Pretender implored Louis XIV. to publicly acknowledge
_him_ King of England, but that sovereign was under certain engagements
with the House of Hanover which prevented; and so the son of James II.
was deprived of his last chance, small as it was, in the accession.
There was great excitement in London when, on the 5th of September, it
was announced that George I. had arrived at the Hague. He had wept when
taking leave of his Hanoverian subjects, who were really fond of him,
and showed no anxiety to get to his new realm. However, he arrived at
Greenwich on the 18th of September, and various officials waited on him
at once. Some of them were very much disgusted at the new sovereign's
discourtesy, and left him with a secret wish that the Pretender were in
his place. However, it was too late to lament, so those who had received
the worst treatment revenged themselves by making fun of the ugly German
women who accompanied George. Among these were Ermengarda, the left-hand
wife, called the Maypole, because she was so tall and lank; Madame
Kielmansegge, daughter of Madame von Platen, called the elephant,
because she was so fat and coarse, and their retinues.
The Londoners had been so heavily taxed on account of {052}the
dishonesty of certain public officers that so large a train of followers
as George took over with him created some dissatisfaction; and once,
when Madame Kielmansegge was driving out in grand style, a crowd hooted
at her, whereupon she leaned out of the carriage window and said in
broken English, "Vordy folks! Vy you abuse us? Ve come here for all your
goots."
"Oh, yes," roared a man in the crowd, "and for our chattels, too." There
was truth in the remark, for the populace groaned beneath the weight of
taxation necessary to support King George's household.
Well, George I. made his public entry into London with as much splendor
as ever attended such an event, and the next day he held a grand
reception. His coronation took place on the twentieth of October,
and all the lords attended the ceremony. Soon after Ermengarda von
Schulemberg was created Duchess of Kendal, and Madame Kielmansegge was
raised to the rank of Countess of Darlington.
[[A.D. 1715.]] There were riots at Bristol and elsewhere on the night of
the king's coronation, and political excitement ran high the following
spring, when three of Queen Anne's late ministers were accused of high
treason. The Duke of Marlborough made a grand triumphal entry into
London, attended by thousands of gentlemen on horseback, three days
after the queen's death. But his sun had set. Thackeray says of him:
"Marlborough, the greatest warrior that ever lived, betrayed William
III., James II., Queen Anne, England to France, the Elector to the
Pretender, the Pretender to the Elector." He was to be trusted no more,
though he was elected to some of his former offices.
Let us see how George got along with his new subjects. He began by
liking neither them nor their manners.
{053}
[Illustration: 0059]
{055}"This is a strange country," he said. "The first morning after my
arrival at St. James's, I looked out of the window and saw a park with
walks, a canal, and so forth, which they told me were mine. The next day
Lord Chetwynd, the ranger of _my_ park, sent me a fine brace of carp
out of _my_ canal, and I was told that I must give five guineas to Lord
Chetwynd's servant for bringing me my own carp, out of my own canal, in
my own park."
George I. showed uncommon prudence in his management of public affairs.
He always seemed to regard himself merely as a lodger at St. James's,
who might be turned out at any time, and who was therefore determined to
make the best of his brief stay there. He chose to be away from England
as much as possible, but when obliged to be there passed all his time
with his German followers, and never even took the trouble to learn the
language of the country he ruled. His aim was to lead a quiet, peaceable
sort of life, and leave England to itself. He made no parade of royalty,
was not hypocritical nor lofty, cared nothing for art, and studied
economy. He was good-natured, too, as this story, related by Horace
Walpole, goes to prove:--On one of King George's journeys to Hanover his
coach broke down, and he was obliged to send for assistance to a castle
near by, owned by a German nobleman of some note. The possessor begged
his majesty to do him the honor of accepting a dinner at his house while
the necessary repairs were being made to the coach. While waiting for
the dinner to be served the host led the royal guest to his picture
gallery, where he had a fine collection of paintings formed in several
tours through Italy. Suddenly the king stepped before the full length
portrait of a young man in the robes and regalia of a sovereign of Great
Britain; he asked whom it represented. The nobleman colored, and replied
with an air of embarrassment that it {056}was the Chevalier de St.
George, or the Pretender, as he was usually called, whose acquaintance
he had made when in Italy, and who had done him the honor of sending him
that picture. "Upon my word, it is very like the family!" exclaimed the
king and moved on, thus relieving the host from his awkward position.
This anecdote shows that he bore no ill-will to the unfortunate Stuarts,
and he was generous in excusing those who evinced attachment for them.
At the first masquerade he attended as king, a lady in domino approached
and asked him to drink a glass of wine with her at a side table; he
assented, and, filling two glasses, the lady handed him one, saying,
"Here's to the Pretender's health."
"I drink with all my heart to the health of every unfortunate prince,"
replied King George, with a smile.
He was not so merciful after the failure of the Scotch rebellion, for
executions were of daily occurrence, and those who were spared perished
miserably in prison. The wearing of oak-branches,--a Stuart emblem,--was
considered an insult to the government, and two soldiers were whipped
almost to death in Hyde Park for appearing with them on the twenty-ninth
of May, in memory of the Restoration; while others were actually shot
down for wearing white-rose badges, which they refused to surrender.
[[A.D. 1717.]] The Princess of Wales had gone to London with her
daughters shortly after the accession of George I., and lived at St.
James's Palace. Three years later she had a son, who was christened
George William. The king and the Duke of Newcastle were godfathers, and
the Duchess of St. Albans was godmother. But we must relate an incident
that occurred at the time this ceremony was performed. The Prince of
Wales wanted his uncle, the Duke of York, to be sponsor for his boy with
the king. {057}George I. said that the Duke of Newcastle should share
the office with him, and peremptorily insisted that it should be so. The
prince was forced to yield, though he hated the duke, who always treated
him with studied neglect. Just after the christening had been performed,
the prince crossed the room, and, shaking his finger in the face of the
Duke of Newcastle, said, "You are a rascal, and I shall find a time to
be revenged." The king understood this to mean a challenge to fight, so
placed his son under arrest, but soon released him, and turned him and
the princess out of the palace, though their three daughters lived with
him until he died.
Not only did George I. banish his son from his palace, but forbade all
those who visited at the court of the Prince and Princess of Wales ever
to come into his presence. The fact is that he had never loved his son
since he had made the attempt to visit his mother when he was hunting in
the neighborhood of Ahlden; and it has been asserted that he at one time
thought of having the prince captured and sent off to America, without
letting it be known what had become of him.
[[A.D. 1720.]] One of the most remarkable circumstances of the reign of
George I. was the formation and bursting of a gigantic speculation known
as the South-Sea Company, that being the name of the organization by
which the scheme was manipulated. As in all such cases, a few people
realized immense fortunes by the sudden rise of the stock,--that is,
those who were in the secret of the plot and knew when to sell. In a few
months thousands of victims were reduced to a deplorable state of misery
and ruin by the decline of the stock, which, was much more rapid than
the rise had been.
The king was in Germany when this catastrophe happened; but he was
summoned to England to discuss with {058}his ministers some means for
quelling the disturbance it had caused. A committee from the House of
Commons was appointed to investigate the affair. They pronounced it
the most villanous fraud that had ever been contrived for the ruin of
a nation. Many members of parliament were implicated in the disastrous
affair, and the profits of the South-Sea Company were found to amount
to thirteen millions of pounds. It was many years before the country
recovered from the dreadful effects of this unparalleled swindle.
It was not only the officials who cheated; this propensity extended to
the menials also. Once a Hanoverian cook complained in person to the
king that all his assistants helped themselves so freely they left him
no chance whatever. He was honest, he declared, but such was not the
case with any other servant in the royal household. "Embezzlement is
rife in the kitchen in despite all I can do," he said. "When the dishes
are brought from your majesty's table, one steals a fowl, another a pig,
a third a joint of meat, another a pie, and so on till there is nothing
left." George, who saw that the trouble lay in the fact of there being
nothing left to steal, answered, "I can put up with these things; and my
advice to you is, to go and steal like the rest, and to remember to take
enough." This was very bad advice, for the fellow became an accomplished
thief, though probably if he had not inclined in that direction he would
not have taken his master at his word.
[[A.D. 1726.]] And now we have only to record the death of the poor
prisoner of Ahlden, after a captivity of more than thirty years. She
had been ill for a long time, and became worse as the hopes she had
entertained of escape gradually grew fainter. Through the long weary
years she had been a model of patience, mildness, and dignity, and she
died asserting her innocence, commending {059}herself to God, mentioning
her children with tenderness, and pardoning her oppressors.
[[A.D. 1727.]] Six months later King George I. set out for Hanover, and
by the end of a week he was dead. He had landed in Holland and travelled
quickly through the country, eating heartily wherever he stopped, and
taking no heed of the violent pains that frequently attacked him after
doing so. As he approached Osnaburg he became worse, and fell forward in
his carriage, saying to his attendant, "I am a dead man!" He was carried
to Osnaburg in an unconscious state, and died there on the eleventh
of June, 1727, in the sixty-eighth year of his age. He was buried at
Hanover.
He had once promised the Duchess of Kendal that if it were possible
for the departed to return to this world, he would visit her after his
death. So when a large black raven flew in at that lady's window at
Isleworth, she was so convinced that it was the soul of the departed
monarch that she treated the bird with great tenderness and respect.
{060}