Queen in Waiting: (Georgian Series) Page 9
‘But I am not ready and I am as yet undecided.’
‘Do you expect me to tell the Elector Palatine that?’
‘You must tell him the truth, I suppose.’
‘You set a high value on yourself.’
‘I have been taught to be truthful and I cannot change my ideas of religion for the sake of a possible crown.’
‘It is all this talk you have listened to.’
But he dared not force her to accept. Sophia Charlotte would never forgive him if he did.
So he met the Elector Palatine and told him that Caroline needed time to come to a decision about her religion and as a result the Elector sent Father Orban, his Jesuit confessor, to Lützenburg to instruct Caroline and show her that the Catholic Faith was the only true one.
The Electress Sophia, hearing that the Archduke Charles had made Caroline an offer, came to visit Lützenburg.
When she saw Caroline, she was not surprised that the Archduke was eager for the marriage.
‘She reminds me more than ever of what you were at her age,’ she told her daughter. ‘So they are going to make a Catholic of her!’
‘If she will become one,’ Sophia Charlotte reminded her mother.
‘Surely anyone in their right senses would be ready to say a few masses for the sake of a crown?’
‘You are cynical, Mother.’
‘I call it being reasonable.’
‘You have never been a religious woman.’
‘And have you?’
‘I have never been able to see that one way is all good, the other all bad. There are so many sides to all questions.’
‘And so you have talked and talked with your philosophers to try and find the answers. How have you succeeded?’
‘Not with any real success. We always seem to arrive back at the point where we started. The answer is: “It may be this, it may be that, but the truth is wrapped in doubt.” And until I die I shall not be sure what happens after death.’
‘And Caroline?’
‘She believes as I do.’
‘So…’
‘I am uncertain. It is a brilliant offer.’
‘Queen of Spain,’ mused the old Electress. ‘But he has to win his own crown before he has one to place on her head. But still she’d be a Queen of Spain if he is victorious. I can think of a crown I’d rather wear.’
Sophia Charlotte smiled at her mother. ‘Might it be the crown of England?’
‘I’d like to see George Augustus married. I’d say he has as much likelihood of getting a crown as Master Archduke Charles.’
‘Do you mean you would like Caroline for George Augustus?’
‘Why not? She would not have to change her religion for him.’
‘But the changing of religion does not shock you. I remember you had me brought up in such a manner that you could pop me either into Catholicism or Protestantism at a moment’s decision, according to the offers you received for me. A Catholic Prince and then it would be “Oh she is a Catholic”. A better offer from a Protestant and “All her life she has been a Protestant.” Worldly wise and theologically deplorable.’
‘And, my darling, what happened? I have the best of daughters.’
‘You were determined to do the best for me, as I am for Caroline. Our views differ. As I see it she shall not be forced into marriage. I despair of losing her, yet I shall make no effort to detain her. She has been brought up to respect the freedom of individuals. Now she shall have it and use it as she will.’
The old Electress’s shrewd eyes were speculative.
Sophia Charlotte wanted this girl for her daughter-in-law. She would say nothing to her as yet. George Augustus had not a good reputation and this girl had been brought up to make her own decisions. But a little persuasion would be reasonable… and worldly wise.
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.
‘You 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 freethinker 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 Sophia Charlotte 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 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 her 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 Lützenburg 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 Lützenburg.
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 Pöllnitz advised her against travelling until later.
‘Shall I wait till Caroline returns?’ she demanded. ‘Why, then I shall not want to leave Lützenburg. No, I shall go now, and by the time I return perhaps she will be with me.’
So, in spite 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 a while.
Marie von Pöllnitz 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 she had left to her were George Lewis, 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. T
hey 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 is had always been, thought Sophia. How many times had she thought to realize 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 her to a lonely prison because she had taken a lover?