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