Текст книги "Queen in Waiting "
Автор книги: Jean Plaidy
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Caroline listened to the words of Father Orban.
The Catholic Faith was the true faith, the only faith, and only by adhering to it could she enter the Kingdom of Heaven. "This is the undefiled, the genuine, the pure holy truth. Break from the heretics and for the sake of your soul cling to the truth...."
Caroline was thinking: I should be Queen of Spain. And she saw herself riding through the streets of Madrid; she heard the shouts of the people. "Long live the Queen of Spain. Long live Queen Caroline! "
And the young man who would ride beside her was pleasant and courteous.
She would have children ... and when she held the first of them in her arms the pain of separation would begin to be numbed. She would love the child as she loved Sophia Charlotte and all her hopes and ambitions would be for her son.
Poor Father Orban! He was so earnest. He did not know that she had heard those arguments again and again and that they meant nothing to her. She doubted she would ever be truly religious.
When she left Father Orban she would walk in the gardens with Leibniz.
*Tou will never accept the Catholic Faith," he told her.
"Is it necessary to do so to call yourself a Catholic?"
**Do you think you would care for life in Spain?"
He looked at her shrewdly. How much did she know of his inner thoughts? They had made a clever girl of their Caroline . . . he, Sophia Charlotte and their friends.
The Electress Sophia was against the marriage. He knew why. She wanted Caroline for Hanover. What a better prospect for Caroline ... and Leibniz ... for Sophia Charlotte ... for them all!
It was not exactly selfish to work for Hanover and against Spain. What future would there be for a free thinker in Spain, the land of the Inquisition and bigotry? Better to have accepted the custodianship of the Vatican and become a servant of the Pope than go to Spain.
"If you remember all the conversations we have had here, if they have meant anything to you, you will never go to Spain."
No, she thought in the solitude of her room, I shall never go to Spain.
Sophia Charlotte showed her a letter she had received from the Elector Palatine.
He knew, he wrote, that Caroline was being instructed in the Catholic faith by Father Orban, but the Father was a little disappointed by the obstruction she put forward. She seemed to make argument rather than accept instruction. The Elector
Palatine knew that Caroline was an unusually intelligent young woman and it was partly for this reason that they were anxious for her to marry the Archduke, but they believed in Austria that she was being a little recalcitrant. If Charlotte Sophia would persuade her, for, as Caroline's guardian, she must rejoice in this brilliant offer which was being put before her, if she would point out the advantages of becoming a Catholic, the Elector Palatine was sure that Her Serene Highness the Princess of Ansbach would see good sense the quicker.
"And this is my answer," said Sophia Charlotte showing it to Caroline.
The Queen of Prussia thanked the Elector Palatine for his letter but it was her firm belief that the matter of choosing religion was a choice—like that of marriage—which should be left to the individual and she would do nothing to persuade Her Serene Highness, the Princess of Ansbach, to make her choice. It must rest entirely with her.
"It's true, my dearest," said Sophia Charlotte; "the choice must be yours."
The Electress Sophia talked to Caroline. She implored her to make a wise decision; she herself had always felt the Catholics to be too fanatical for her taste; and she had heard such sad tales of the way Protestants were persecuted in Spain. It was, as her daughter Sophia Charlotte reiterated so often, for Caroline to make the choice, but there were matters she should consider very carefully.
"Spain is a great country. It would be an honour to be its Queen but it could not compare with the honour of being Queen of England, and England would want a Protestant Queen. I always knew it and I believe the English to be right."
The Electress Sophia felt frustrated for how could she tell Caroline that she wanted her to be the bride of her own grandson before she had discussed this matter with her son.
She thought she ought to go back to Hanover without delay and talk over the matter with George Lewis. She believed she could persuade him easily for he was not deeply interested in his son.
She wished she could say openly, instead of by hints, that Caroline should refuse the match with Spain for she might have a more brilliant possibility presented to her before long.
Sophia Charlotte said goodbye to her mother and promised to visit her soon.
"For," said the Electress Sophia, "you have allowed this matter to worry you and you are not looking as well as I should like to see you."
Get her to Hanover, thought the Electress, and there discuss the desirability of keeping Caroline in their own intimate circle.
Caroline listened to Father Orban. He spoke so earnestly that he was almost convincing. Then she would walk with Gottfried Leibniz and he would be even more so.
Sophia Charlotte did not want her to go.
Of course I shall never leave her, thought Caroline.
She was not sleeping as well as she usually did. She was haunted by dreams of the past mingling with thoughts of the future. Once she dreamed she saw the Queen of Spain being crowned. She thought it was herself until she saw her mother's face under the diadem.
No, she thought, I shall never go to Spain. In any case he is not yet King; and the King of France is determined that he never shall be; and the King of France is surely one of the most powerful men in the world.*
There came a letter from her brother who, on the death of their stepbrother had become Margrave of Ansbach.
"I have heard of your difficulties," he wrote. "Why not come and stay awhile in Ansbach? Here you can live quietly, away from all controversy. It would be a good place in which to make your decision."
When she showed this invitation to Sophia Charlotte, the latter thought it would be an excellent idea for her to go and stay for a short while with her brother. They had seen so little of each other and the invitation was cordial. Moreover it would be a good idea for her to get right away from Lutzen-
burg to make her decision. There she would discover more easily what she wanted to do.
So Caroline decided she would go to Ansbach for a short stay.
While Caroline had been the centre of attraction, Frederick William, piqued to find himself in the shade, had been behaving with more than his usual arrogance. Sophia Charlotte, who secretly had been feeling less well as each week passed and doing her utmost to hide this fact, agreed with the King that perhaps a tour of foreign countries might teach their son better manners.
She hated parting with him for she loved him dearly and tried to convince herself that he would outgrow his violent temper and arrogant ways, for she, who was so eager to discover the truth about life and death, could deceive herself about this son who so disappointed her.
The King was in agreement with her and while Caroline set off for Ansbach, Frederick William started his Grand Tour.
Without the two young people Sophia Charlotte found the palace unbearably lonely. Secretly she did not believe that the culture of other courts would change her son; and she was afraid of the decision Caroline might come to. If Caroline married her nephew George Augustus, their separation need not be of long duration; she could make many reasons for visiting her mother, and the Electress and Caroline could be constantly at Liitzenburg.
The Electress had begged her not to delay her visit to Hanover; she knew for what reason; and because she was so lonely she decided to make plans to go at once.
The pain in her throat had grown more acute and in addition the bouts of discomfort had been more frequent. She could see the change in her appearance and wondered whether others noticed it.
The weather was particularly cold that January and Marie von Pollnitz advised her against travelling until later.
"Shall I wait till Caroline returns?" she demanded. "Why
go Queen in Waiting
then I shall not want to leave Liitzenburg. No, I shall go now, and by the time I return perhaps she will be with me."
So inspite of the weather she went on making her preparations.
The King protested. Why the hurry? he wanted to know. She could visit her mother in the spring. Did she guess what the roads were like?
She shrugged aside his warnings. She had promised to pay this visit. They were expecting her and nothing would induce her to postpone it.
Sophia Charlotte and her retinue set out from Berlin one bitterly cold day and began the journey to Hanover. She had been feeling increasingly ill before she started and as they trundled along the frozen roads and the icy wind penetrated her carriage she became exhausted.
The pain in her throat had increased and was now almost perpetual. She was finding it difficult to swallow and consequently avoided eating; and by the time they reached Magdeburg she knew that she would have to stop and rest awhile.
Marie von Pollnitz begged her to stay there until the spring but she merely shrugged the suggestions aside.
"There is so much to do/' she said.
"But it can be done later."
"No," said Sophia Charlotte, "I have a feeling that what has to be done must be done now."
Marie looked alarmed and Sophia Charlotte turned from her; she put her hand involuntarily to her throat. She could now definitely feel the obstruction there.
A few days later, although her condition had worsened if anything, they set out for Hanover.
The Electress Sophia was worried at the condition of her daughter. She put her to bed immediately and sent for her
doctors. The diagnosis was terrifying. The Queen of Prussia was suffering from a tumour of the throat and there was no hope of recovery: in fact her end was imminent.
Sophia could not believe it. Her daughter was thirty-seven years old; it was too young to die, particularly as a short while ago she had seemed in perfect health.
"There is a mistake," she declared, and called in more doctors; but the answer they gave after examination was the same.
"We must save her," cried Sophia. "She can't die like this ... at her age."
But she knew that the doctors were right. The change in her beloved daughter was horrifying. In a short time she seemed to grow emaciated and her once lovely complexion had turned dull yellow.
She talked to her eldest son, George Lewis, who had been the Elector since the death of his father Ernest Augustus. "Your sister has come home to die."
"Better if she'd decided to do it in her own home," he muttered.
"This is her home. The only thing for which I am grateful is that she has come home to die."
George Lewis turned away; he was not a man to waste words. He would stick to his opinion and his mother could have hers; he still thought that a death at the Palace was an inconvenience—particularly when it should by rights have happened somewhere else.
"You're an insensitive oaf, George Lewis," she told him, for once forgetting his rank, for which she always had a great respect, and treating him as the child in the nursery whom she had never been able to love. "Don't you care for anyone but your tall malkin and your fat hen."
George Lewis received these references to his two favourite mistresses with unconcern. He muttered: "She should have stayed in Berlin."
The Electress Sophia was too distressed to quarrel with her son. She wondered then as she had so many times before how she could have borne such a son.
And he went on living and her dearest Sophia Charlotte ... but it would not bear thinking of even for an old stoic like
herself. She had lost three sons and now all that was left to her were George Lewis with whom she could well have done without, Maximilian who was a rebel and a constant cause for anxiety because he was continually in conflict with his brother who had sent him into exile, and her youngest named after his father, Ernest Augustus. Three sons and one beloved daughter. It seemed her fate that her best loved children would be taken from her.
That cherished project of marrying Caroline to George Augustus must be shelved. They had death on their minds instead of marriage.
Gone were all those pleasant plans for the future—frequent journeyings between Hanover and Berlin, Sophia to gain a granddaughter, her own beloved daughter's daughter.
But thus it had always been, thought Sophia. How many times had she thought to reaUze a cherished dream to find it snatched from her?
It was life; and must be borne. She, an old woman, knew that well.
As it became more and more apparent that there was no hope of saving her daughter's life, Sophia was so stricken with grief that she became ill, and had to keep to her bed.
It was as well, said her servants, for the death bed scene with this daughter whom she loved best in the world would have tortured her beyond endurance.
Sophia Charlotte lay back on her pillows. In spite of her suffering there was a look of contentment on her face. A short while before, when she knew death was close, she had talked to her mother of Caroline, and Sophia had promised that she would do all she could to take her daughter's place with the girl. Sophia had talked of her plan to bring Caroline to Hanover. "There," said Sophia, "she shall be as my own daughter."
"Let her take my place with you," begged Sophia Charlotte.
"That is yours and no one can have it," answered Sophia. "But I already love her and would always care for her."
"For my sake," murmured Sophia Charlotte.
The Electress was so distressed by this conversation that
Sophia Charlotte had been unable to continue with it; but that did not matter for she had the reassurance she needed.
And afterwards the old Electress, having to face the fact that death was imminent, broke down. Her stoicism deserted her. She could accept misfortune but not this greatest tragedy of all.
Now as Sophia Charlotte's life was slipping away she said goodbye to her brothers, George Lewis and Ernest Augustus. The latter wept; the former regarded her expressionlessly, and she remembered them so well from nursery days. George Lewis who never needed their companionship, who was content to be alone playing with his soldiers, who refused to learn to bow or converse graciously. Poor George Lewis—unloved by his family and not caring ... only wanting soldiers, real ones now, and of course women. And Ernest Augustus the baby who was always pushed aside because he was too young to join in; she remembered his standing by wistfully pleading with his eyes to be allowed to join the game and finally out of pity being given the humblest part to play. And Max ... dear gay mischievous Max, who was far away now because he hated his brother and could never resist the opportunity of plotting against him. There was another member of the family whom she had known for a while—poor sad Sophia Dorothea, her sister-in-law, who had had the misfortune to be chosen as the wife of George Lewis. They had not been great friends; she had found the lovely elegant Sophia Dorothea too frivolous for her, but she had been an enchanting creature. How could George Lewis condemn hei to a lonely prison because she had taken a lover?
But that was the old life—a new adventure lay before her. In a short time now she would face the unknown.
"You are sorry for me," she said to those about her bed. "Why? I have always wanted to satisfy my curiosity about life after death. My friends ... even Leibniz ... could not explain that to me. Now I am going to find out. There is nothing to weep for."
'We have sent word to the King of Prussia," said George Lewis.
She tried to smile. "He will give me a splendid funeral," she
said. "And although it will not matter to me, it will please him for he loves pomp and ceremony."
She saw her nephew and niece by her bedside—George Augustus and pretty young Sophia Dorothea named after her ill-fated mother.
**I hope you will be happy," she said and held out a hand to the girl. Sophia Dorothea, so pretty and so like her mother, came forward, took it and kissed it.
"Bless you, my dear child," said Sophia Charlotte. "I wish you a happy life. And you too, George Augustus. May you find a good wife and live as happily as is possible on this earth."
Marie von Pollnitz had brought a chaplain into the room. And Sophia Charlotte asked him what he wanted.
He said that he had come to pray with her.
"Let me die without quarrelling with you," she said. "For years I have studied religious questions. You can tell me nothing that I don't know already. And I die in peace."
"Your Highness in the sight of God, Kings and Queens are mortally equal with all men," said the chaplain.
"I know it well," she answered.
Then she closed her eyes.
She was smiling serenely as she passed into the unknown.
Caroline saw the riders coming into Ansbach. She ran down to greet them for she believed they would have letters from Sophia Charlotte.
She stood impatiently in the hall of the Ansbach Palace under the Glorification of Karl the Wild as the messengers approached, and wondered why they looked so sombre.
"Your Serene Highness," said one, "there is bad news from Hanover."
"What news?" she demanded.
"The Queen of Prussia has died on a visit to her mother "
"Dead! " She heard the word but was not sure who had said it. She was aware of a rushing in her eyes, a sudden dizziness. This was not true. This was a nightmare. There was not such misery possible in the whole of the world.
She gripped the statue of the Margrave to steady herself. And she said again in a voice of utter desolation: "Dead! " There was nothing more to say. Her world was shattered; there was no reason for making decisions, for caring what became of her; there was nothing more in life to live for.
The Courtship of Caroline
When the greatest catastrophe imaginable struck, one did not sit down and weep senseless tears, at least not if one were the Electress Sophia of Hanover. There was only one way of living and that was to become busily occupied in some new project.
There must be an attempt to fill the emptiness left by the irreplaceable. One must look for substitutes.
The Princess Caroline, herself emotionally crippled, could help Sophia bear a grief which they shared. That they would have in common and so much more.
Finding no comfort in prayer—either, as Sophia said, reproaching, or pleading for better treatment from, a Divine Being—she tried to set in motion a plan which, if it materialized, would at least make life tolerable.
If she could bring Caroline to Hanover, she would soothe her grief, give herself a new interest in life, and so continue living for the years which were left to her.
Poor Caroline! No one now would plan for her happiness as Sophia Charlotte had done. She was not a weak young fool, but she was without powerful friends.
The sooner I can marry her to George Augustus the better, thought the Electress Sophia; and set herself to work out a scheme for doing this.
It was exasperating to think that she had first to get George Lewis's permission. In fact it was the same in everything. He was the master now; and what a different place he had made of the court at Hanover since his father's death! He had all his father's lechery and none of his wit; although of course during the lifetime of Ernest Augustus she had had to endure the reign of the notorious Clara von Platen who had been his maitresse en litre for so many years.
George Lewis at least had had the wisdom or the luck to choose stupid women for his mistresses. They would never interfere in politics as Clara von Platen had done. George Lewis was like a lumbering great ox; he had no finesses such as his father had; he was without sensitivity; but he kept his women in order, and when he beckoned to one she immediately rose and followed him; and the others dared not protest. He made it clear that women for him were of use in one place only and that was the bedchamber.
Sophia had risen from her sick bed feeling weak and exhausted, not perhaps ready to do battle with her son; and yet she felt the need for speedy action. Who could say, now that Sophia Charlotte was dead perhaps Caroline would try to forget her misery by embarking on a new life as wife to the Archduke Charles.
She went to her beloved Herrenhausen to try to recover her health and decide what should be done but even Herrenhausen which, during her husband's lifetime, she had considered hers, was not the same. For one thing George Lewis had refused to let her have the place to herself. She must be contented with one wing, he said. Herrenhausen like the Alte Palais and the Leine Schloss belonged to him and he would have her remember it.
Dear Herrenhausen with so many memories of the past, with its avenue of limes and its park which was really too grand for the rather unpretentious house which without its grounds would indeed look merely like a gentleman's house and not a Palace! One hundred and twenty acres laid out, naturally, in
gS Queen in Waiting
the manner of Versailles, with the inevitable statues and fountains; the terraces, the parterres.
Here she had walked with dear Sophia Charlotte before her marriage. How unhappy the girl had been and how it had hurt Sophia to part with her—more so she believed than it had hurt Sophia Charlotte to go. But the marriage had been a good one for she had become Queen of Prussia and the King had been indulgent to her. If their son could marry young Sophia Dorothea the family would be kept intact. Would his father agree?
In the meantime there was Caroline—the immediate problem. She must throw herself into this for the sake of Caroline, for the sake of Sophia Charlotte's memory and because when you were old there was nothing left except living through the young.
She sent a message to the Leine Schloss requesting George Lewis to come to Herrenhausen to see her since she was not well enough to go to him.
He sent an ungracious message back that he was detained that day but would, if his business permitted, visit her the next.
"He has the manners of a stable boy," she grumbled. Unfortunately it was this stable boy who ruled them all at Hanover.
In a grudging mood, George Lewis set out for Herrenhausen which was about two miles from Hanover.
What was his mother after now? he wondered. He had been disturbed enough by the foolish action of his sister in coming to her old home to die. Since she must have known how ill she was, why hadn't she stayed at home to die decently. He hated sentimental scenes and had no intention of indulging in them.
Not that his mother was fond of them either.
No, it was more likely that she had some proposition to put to him and believed his sister's death might have put him in a mood to grant it. She was making a big mistake if she did—and his mother was not one to make mistakes.
George Lewis's plain dark face looked even more dour than
usual as he rode between the double avenue of limes. He liked the orderliness of the Park for he could not endure untidiness. His affairs were conducted in an efficient manner and he believed, rightly, that since he had been Elector, the prestige of Hanover had risen in other countries. There might be more splendid courts among the German states, but there was none so prosperous as Hanover and this prosperity, begun by his father, had been increased by George Lewis. He had been a cruel husband; he was a promiscuous lover having three favourite mistresses; he was a dour son and an indifferent parent; but if he had no idea how to win affection, he understood very well how to rule a state. Industry had flourished since his rule; farming prospered; he was growing richer and so was his Electorate. Even his mother could fmd no fault with his rule. And how had he done it? By keeping the women out; by trusting no one but himself.
He was vindictive as his wife had discovered to her cost; his manners were coarse; he had no refmcmcnts; and the only artistic pleasure he ever received was from music. As a result his Opera House was as fine as anything they had in Vienna.
He made his way to that wing of the house which he had assigned to his mother, and when he threw open the door her attendants scattered; he did not have to speak to them, only to frown and they were gone.
He did not kiss his mother's hand; he merely nodded to her and sprawled in the chair by her bed, his legs thrust out, his heels resting on her carpet, while he studied the tops of his boots as though he found them more interesting tlian her.
How did we manage to get this one? Sophia wondered, as she had many times before. If I hadn't borne him myself I'd say he had been foisted on us. How did we allow him to be brought up without grace, without charm, without manners? Yet he had excelled as a soldier and now was showing he could rule.
"It was good of you to come, George Lewis," she said a trifle acidly, "good of you to call on your mother when she asked you to."
"I had nothing important to do today."
"Then I must be grateful for that," she retorted ironically.
loo Queen in Waiting
He grunted. "What's your business?" he asked.
"You don't ask how I am?"
"Well, you're better, aren't you? You wouldn't have asked me to come if you were ill. So what point in asking I "
"As a matter of courtesy perhaps."
He puffed contemptuously. So they might do in the stables. And he in the presence of the granddaughter of a King of England! What would they think of him in England if he ever went there? And go there he must ... a King. She thought of Charles, her cousin, roaming the Continent before his Restoration. He had had all the charm of the Stuarts. Who would believe that this heavy jowled awkward Hanoverian was in any way connected with the Royal Stuarts. What would the English think of him!
"No sense in asking questions when you know the answer."
"You've too much sense perhaps and not enough sensibility."
"Eh?"
My son! she thought. This is my son!
She must get down to the matter in hand before he rudely told her he had no time to waste.
"I wanted to see you about George Augustus."
The scowl deepened. George Lewis had no love for his son. His marriage had gone sour very quickly and how could it have been otherwise with such a man? Though in his way he was faithful enough to his mistresses and kept them in favour even when they lost their looks.
"What about him?"
"He's no longer a boy."
"I know his age very well."
"It is time he was married."
"Married?"
"Why not. He needs a wife. He needs to get sons."
George Lewis was silent thinking of the boy. He could not bear the sight of him. Perhaps because he reminded him of his mother. He was almost pretty and although he was fair and his mother was dark the resemblance was strong. He was small– too small for a boy, neat and willowy, as she had been; and he had a way of gesticulating which was rather French. George Lewis liked the gardens to be laid out in a French style but
The Courtship of Caroline loi
he did not like French manners in his son. They were clearly inherited from his mother who was half French; perhaps that was why he was constantly reminded.
It was not that he regretted what he had done to his wife. In his opinion she deserved her fate and he didn't think of her unless her name was mentioned and on those rare occasions when his son or daughter reminded him of her by their looks.
"You've someone in mind," asked George Lewis.
"Yes. Caroline of Ansbach."
"What! My sister's adopted girl?"
"Why not? We should have to act quickly for the Archduke Charles is in the field."
"You mean he's asked for her?"
"She is considering whether she will accept him."
"Then she must be a fool."
"Why?"
"She won't get another such chance."
"How do you know? Austria considered her worthy, why not Hanover?"
"The boy's not ready for marriage."
"He's nearly twenty-one."
"He seems retarded. More like a child than a man."
"How can you say that, George Lewis?"
"Posturing! Dressing himself up! Throwing his hands about."
"He is certainly more gracious than his father."
"And you think that makes a man of him?"
"I say he's old enough for marriage and I think Caroline would make him a good wife. What do you say? I tell you we should act without delay."
George Lewis grunted.
"I wish you wouldn't make those animal noises," she said sharply. "They may be intelligible to your soldiers but they're not to me."
"I've other matters to think of."
"This happens to involve the succession.**
"The succession! With you it's an obsession."
"Surely you must admit that to be King of England would be a more inviting prospect than Elector of Hanover?"
"No! No. I don't/'
"1 marvel at you. Have you no ambition?"
"I'm content where I am."
"Content! To go off and fight periodically and live like a common soldier? Yes, I can see you would be well content with that. What will you do when the Spanish Succession has been settled? What will you do for fighting then? To fight ... and then come home and rule your little state and bestow your favours in turn on your three favourites! Even your choice of mistresses is laughable. Schulemburg is well past her youth– she's lost any beauty she ever had and she never did have any brains to lose. Kielmansegge-Clara von Platen's daughter! She might very likely be your own sister. When I come to think of it she's not unlike you. And the young Countess von Platen– she's the only one with any pretensions to looks. But I hear she doesn't get the opportunities the other two do to amuse Your Highness."
This was foolish. Sophia knew it as soon as she had spoken; but she was not herself and the sight of George Lewis lolling in his chair was more irritating than usual. A great bitterness was in her heart because she had lost her beloved daughter.
Why did she have to die and this one be left to her? Why had she lost the children she loved best and been left with those she cared little for.
George Lewis appeared to be unmoved by these reproaches. He yawned.
