CHAPTER XXII.
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.
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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.
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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:—
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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.
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“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]
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Footnote 217:
Stepney’s _Despatches_, Dresden, May 18/28, 1694, State Paper Office, “Foreign Papers,” Germany.
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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.
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Footnote 218:
Stepney’s _Despatches_, Dresden, May 29/June 8, 1694.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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Footnote 220:
Cresset’s _Despatches_, Celle.
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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.