Queen in waiting

The Court at Hanover

During the first weeks of the marriage Caroline was happier than she had believed possible. George Augustus was an attentive husband and being in love was a delightful adventure which appealed to him. Caroline was beautiful; she had grace and charm; she was much admired. George Augustus never tired of reminding people that she had refused the Archduke of Spain to marry him.

"They were made for each other," said the Empress Sophia. "And she will be the making of George Augustus."

George Augustus strutted about the Court; all he needed was a son—with other children to follow, of course—and a brilliant record in the army. As yet he had only taken the first step.

Caroline basked in his affection; they were constantly together; he delighted in showing her the pleasures of Hanover; she found the court a little vulgar but she gave no hint of this; instead she planned to change it when she became Electress; then she would endeavour to make Hanover another Charlottenburg. Leibniz was already here; she would invite other philosophers.

It was a pleasure to ride through the streets of Hanover to the cheers of the people. They were particularly friendly towards her and the Electoral Prince—doubtless, she thought, because for all his qualities as a ruler, George Lewis would never inspire any affection in his people.

She thought Herrenhausen delightful—mainly for its gardens; she liked the little Alte Palais; but the Leine Schloss was a little gloomy—haunted, she thought, by the shadow of a tragedy.

George Augustus, when showing it to her pointed out the Ritter Hall, the place where it was believed Konigsmarck had been murdered.

"There is one member of the family whom you will not meet," he told her. "My mother."

"Isn't it possible?"

George Augustus narrowed his eyes and his face grew red with emotion. "He will not allow it. I am not allowed to see her. She can't even write to me. I tell you this, Caroline. I shall not always allow him to have his way."

"Perhaps if you explained your point of view."

"Explain to my father! You don't know him yet, Caroline. Wait until you do."

"I believe you hate him."

"Of course I hate him. Everybody hates him except his women and I expect they only tolerate him for what they get. You'll hate him too."

"I hope not."

George Augustus turned his red face to her. "You'll hate him, Caroline, because I do."

She smiled. "But we don't have to hate the same people do we?"

"Those who love me hate my father."

It was almost a command.

As she looked at his flushed face and saw the purpose in his eyes she felt the first twinges of uneasiness.

George Lewis decided that she should receive an income of nine hundred and fifty pounds a year, and summoned her and George Augustus to his presence to explain this to them.

It did not seem a very princely sum to Caroline and she looked dismayed.

"It will be adequate/' said George Lewis. "I shall pay your servants and they will be answerable to me."

"To you?" Caroline had spoken without thinking. George Lewis scowled and she hurried on: "That would put an unnecessary burden on Your Highness."

"They will be answerable to me," repeated George Lewis. He turned to his son. "You'll provide your wife with a carriage and horses and you must set aside two thousand pounds a year to be hers should she be left a widow."

Caroline gasped in dismay but George Lewis threw her a contemptuous look. Women were fools about money, he thought. She thought it was bad taste to refer to her husband's death. She'd thank his foresight if George Augustus died and left her poor.

Having settled these facts, he dismissed them.

In their own apartments, George Augustus's anger against his father broke out.

"Nine hundred and fifty a year!" he sneered. "Generous, isn't he? Now you begin to know him."

"He is paying for my servants," said Caroline.

"You're making excuses for him! "

"It's true. But they're answerable to him."

"Ah, there you see! If you say a word about him in their hearing they'll report it."

"Then I must be careful not to."

"You'd never please him whatever you did."

"I wish that you and he were friendly towards each other."

"As if that's possible! "

"Why not?"

George Augustus laughed. "You wait until you know him, Caroline."

She began to realize that this was a divided household. She had hoped to make a good impression on the Elector. There was one characteristic she had regretted in Sophia Charlotte and that was that she had not been interested in the politics of her husband's court. Caroline could imagine nothing more exciting than helping to govern. She had quickly learned that George Augustus did not possess an intellect to be compared with her own. That at first had not displeased her. It was well, she believed, for the woman to be the dominant partner, even if—and perhaps it was better so—the husband was unaware of this.

She had hoped that the Elector, who for all his boorishness was a shrewd man, would have recognized this and she could, while having a say in Hanoverian politics, put an end to the strife between father and son.

It suddenly occurred to her that that would not be possible if she were to retain her husband's affection.

This discord had been going on too long—ever since George Augustus had known that his mother had been sent into exile.

It would be necessary for her to make a choice. She must support her husband or lose his affection because it was not possible to be on friendly terms with both of them. Thus Caroline quickly learned that she had no choice. She must take sides and join in the conflict.

She made another unwelcome discovery.

Leibniz was delighted that she was at the court of Hanover. As she walked with him in the gardens of Herrenhausen he told her how the presence of a cultivated person was needed here.

"This is very different from our dear Lutzenburg," he said. "They are not very interested in ideas here. Perhaps now that Your Highness is come that will be clanged."

"But the Electress Sophia is here."

"Yes, that's so. I should not be here otherwise. I could not exist in this slough of ignorance. But the Electress is ageing. She has not been well lately and I have been very anxious about her. Besides, it is for the young to lead opinion. You will set a new fashion in Hanover—a fashion for learning and culture."

"That would be very pleasant."

The Electress Sophia who liked to spend a certain time of the day out of doors joined them and they sat on one of the terraces talking together.

They were speaking of Sophia Charlotte and her theories about death when they were joined by George Augustus and one of his friends.

"I think she preferred always the open mind," said Caroline. "She used to say that to have faith one must first take a leap in the dark."

"What's this?" asked George Augustus.

"We were talking of the blessings of faith. Your Highness," explained Leibniz.

"Why?" asked George Augustus rudely.

"It's an interesting subject," said Caroline. "The Queen of Prussia loved to discuss these matters. We did it constantly at Lutzenburg."

"Well, you're not at Lutzenburg now."

"But we can have equally intelligent conversations here at Hanover."

"I don't care for these intelligent conversations."

"You would soon learn to. If you would read some of the philosophers..."

She stopped for he was looking at her oddly and the Electress Sophia said quickly: "Oh the philosophers were never much to my grandson's taste, were they, George Augustus?"

"They would be if I wanted them to. I just don't, that's all. Caroline, are you ready?"

She was on the point of saying that she wished to stay with Leibniz and the Electress, when she caught the old woman's eye.

She rose at once and went with George Augustus into the palace.

As soon as they were alone he turned on her.

"So you would flaunt your cleverness?" he said unpleasantly.

"My ... cleverness?"

"Oh yes ... I am to read the books you give me. I am to learn to be as clever as you."

"But I did not say that."

"In front of that old fool Leibniz! "

"He is not a fool. He is one of the cleverest men living."

"Clever! Clever! Books, books, books. I tell you I won't have you trying to make me look a fool."

"But I had no intention ..."

"No intention! " he screamed in his rage. It was the first time she had seen these rages. He took off his wig and stamped on it. "Listen. I married you. You had nothing much to offer ... no dowry to speak of ... nothing ... but I married you."

She was about to say: Because the King of Spain had asked for me. But she stopped herself in time, and remained silent.

It was the right thing to have done for it stemmed his rage.

"I'll not have it," he said. "No wife should be cleverer than her husband, should she? Should she?"

If she is, she thought, there is no help for it.

"Should she?" he cried again, kicking his wig to the other side of the room.

In the silence that followed it was as though the sad ghost of the young Sophia Dorothea was warning her: Be careful. Don't go my way.

No, her way was not the right one. Caroline thought fleetingly of her own mother's miserable marriage.

Clever women took the reins in marriage, but they often did it by seeming docile.

"No," she said slowly, "she shouldn't."

A slow smile spread over his flushed face.

He walked to his wig, picked it up and crammed it down on his head.

He came to her then, his smile loving and very affectionate.

He kissed her with fervour —her lips first, and then he slid her bodice from her shoulders.

"You are the best wife in the world," he said thickly; and he reminded her of his father.

She wanted to cry out: No. Go away.

But she had learned her first lesson. She could not love this boy with his pitiful arrogance. But she could win nothing by letting him know that she was beginning to despise him.

When George Lewis retired to his bedchamber he found the Countess von Platen waiting for him. He had not intimated that he would need her services that night but he was not surprised because she was the only one of his three established mistresses who now and then took the initiative.

George Lewis was not displeased. Although he liked variety it was among a selected circle; he was a faithful lover and once a mistress had a firm position she usually kept it. George Lewis was a man who had always dispensed with romantic wooing which he considered a waste of time; therefore a mistress who knew exactly what was expected of her—be she old and ugly as his two favourites Schulemburg and Kielmansegge undoubtedly had become—was more to his taste than any coy and shrinking virgin.

The Countess von Platen differed from the other two in the fact that she was both beautiful and fairly young, but he would never have selected her in the first place if she had not brought herself to his notice. When she had come to the Court as the wife of his first minister's son he had been unaware of her; until one night he had discovered her in his bedchamber where she threw herself on her knees and demanded to know why she had offended him.

He had replied in his blunt way that he could not see how she had since he was unaware of her existence. Whereupon she implored him not to be so cruel. Did he object to her looks?

Studying her closely he replied that he could not do that for he could see that she was very beautiful. In fact he thought she must be one of the most beautiful women at his court.

"If you think so," she replied, "why do you spend all your time with Madam Schulemburg and my sister-in-law Madam Kielmansegge?"

George Lewis gave this question consideration. Preoccupation with state matters had offered little opportunity for looking round, he said, but since she had been so kind as to bring herself to his notice, he saw no reason why he should not extend his patronage. At which the young Countess dried her tears, fell on her knees, told him he was the most beneficent ruler in the world, and from thence forward George Lewis had three established mistresses instead of two.

Schulemburg and Kielmansegge were too lethargic and too well established to care. Schulemburg had only one passion in life, apart from her genuine devotion to George Lewis, and that was adding to her wealth. Kielmansegge's great delight was in the adventures of the bedchamber, but unlike her royal patron she liked a constant change of scene. As neither of these ladies had to fear youth and beauty, the young Countess von Platen was a welcome member of the trinity as it meant a little relief from duty.

Now the Countess von Platen did not immediately state the reason for her visit. She would let George Lewis believe what, in any case it did not enter his mind to doubt—that she had come to enjoy his company.

It was not until the morning that she said: "Her Serene Highness the Electoral Princess has not invited me to her soirée yet. I fancy she considers that I should not be a suitable guest."

George Lewis grunted: "Why not?"

"Since Mesdames Schulemburg and Kielmansegge have not been invited either and we seem to be the only three ladies who have been treated in this way, the reason seems obvious. It is because of our relationship with you. I know you won't allow the silly creature to be so foolish."

"Go without invitations," he said.

The Countess von Platen pretended to shiver. "And incur the wrath of her Serene Highness the Electoral Princess."

"You go ... and tell the others."

"It is your command?"

He grunted.

"And you will be there?"

He nodded.

The Countess von Platen was well pleased. The Princess Caroline had better learn without delay the etiquette of the Court of Hanover.

Sophia Dorothea had taken a liking to her sister-in-law. She pitied her for one thing. Fancy being doomed to spend her life at Hanover! It was Sophia Dorothea's home, of course. But with such a father, it had never been a happy one. He had shown no affection for his children, although she fancied he did not hate her as bitterly as he did George Augustus. In fact, if he had been a man who knew how to express affection, he might have shown some for her. She was beautiful; she was gay; so perhaps she was too much like her mother.

Her mother! There was the shadow which hung over their lives. Which ever way one looked it was there. She, Sophia Dorothea would be glad to get away and she would soon, for marriage negotiations were being conducted. Frederick William had kept his word; she knew that his father, the king of Prussia had not wanted an alliance with Hanover. In fact he was angry with Hanover for carrying off Caroline right under his nose, which was understandable when he was her guardian. He had wanted her either for the King of Spain or for himself. Poor Caroline, she was in demand, and she had been awarded George Augustus!

Sophia Dorothea grimaced. He was her brother and she had some affection for him, but he was very conceited and he would be like his father in some ways in his attitude towards a wife. I am the master; you are the slave.

That would not please me, she thought. And Caroline? How would she react?

It was not easy to know with Caroline. That was what made her so interesting. So far she had been docile and the more docile she became the more devoted was George Augustus. But once let her show defiance and that would be the end of George Augustus's affection. He might even be as callous towards a wife as his father had been.

Life with Frederick William would be different. She was certain of that. They had learned a good deal about each other on the few occasions when they had met because they had been drawn together irresistibly. He was wild and ungovernable; and she was not the one to accept the role of patient Griselda. No, there would be quarrels and reconciliations. But life would never be dull.

In a rush of pity for her poor sister-in-law Sophia Dorothea went along to Caroline's apartment where Caroline was being dressed for her soirée.

Sophia Dorothea watched her women at work.

"You have lovely hair, sister," said Sophia Dorothea.

Caroline smiled, pleased at the compliment.

"And the blue gown is becoming."

"You are kind to say so."

How could she be so serene, so grave, so outwardly contented when she was far too intelligent not to know that she had been sent into a den of ... Sophia Dorothea paused for the word. Lions? George Augustus was not strong enough nor dignified enough. Foxes? Not cunning enough. Wolves? Yes, wolves wasn't bad.

"You are thoughtful," said Caroline.

"Have you finished?" Sophia Dorothea asked the woman. "I want to talk to Her Highness."

"Yes, in a moment. Your Highness."

Sophia Dorothea sat in a high backed chair watching the finishing touches to Caroline's toilet. I think George Augustus would be every bit as cruel as our father, she thought, if his vanity were wounded. That's it. His vanity! Ever since he knew he would not be very tall he has felt the need to remind everyone that he is as good, as strong, as important as people who are. How cruel life is! To deny George Augustus those inches as well as a mother. And poor Caroline will have to suffer for it too.

The woman had gone and Caroline said: "It is kind of you to come and see me."

"You're my sister now and I shan't have many more opportunities of calling on you like this."

"Are you uneasy about your coming marriage?"

"No. Only waiting to leave Hanover for Prussia."

"Then I'm glad."

"I'm fortunate. If I had loved my home I shouldn't want to leave it. But because I can't wait to get out of it, I'm happy. There's life for you. Taking away with one hand and giving with the other. I hope you will be happy here, Caroline."

"I think so."

"/ think you have a great gift for being happy. How do you do it? I may need to know when I'm quarrelling with my wild Frederick William."

"Then you are a little uneasy about going to Berlin?"

She shook her head. "I'll deal with Frederick William. You and I should have a good deal to say to each other for while you have come into my old home, I am going into yours."

"Berlin will be quite different from when I was there. Nothing could ever be the same now that Sophia Charlotte is dead."

"No, I suppose not. You loved my aunt very dearly, didn't you?"

Caroline nodded, her eyes clouding. "But I've stopped grieving for those happy days. I'm trying to look ahead. That is the advice she would have given. It is always rather difficult adjusting oneself to a new life ... a new home. Women of our rank invariably have to face it. I am fortunate in having the Electress Sophia who is already my friend as well as my grand-mother-in-law."

"George Augustus does not like to be crossed," said Sophia Dorothea.

"Who does?" answered Caroline with a sinking heart, for she recognized the warning in her sister-in-law's voice.

"He more than most. He so very much wants to be ... appreciated."

"I understand." Caroline changed the subject abruptly; she did not want George Augustus to discover that she discussed him with anyone. Whatever her opinion of her husband, she knew she must keep it to herself. "Tell me about Madam Schulemburg and Madam Kielmansegge. It has been suggested that I should invite them to my soirée. I have no intention of doing so."

"Oh, they are my father's mistresses."

"What sort of women are they?"

"The Schulemburg is very tall. She is quite ugly now but was a beauty in her youth. Since she had the smallpox she lost most of her hair, her skin is pockmarked, and she's a real scarecrow. Particularly now that she's so thin—and looks thinner because she is so tall. She is as pale as a ghost under all her rouge which looks dreadful over the pock marks; and the red wig she wears makes her look worse than ever. But she has been there for so long that no one notices her. She has been my father's mistress for years and she's still the favourite. He doesn't seem to notice how ugly she is ... or perhaps he doesn't think so. He has no sense of beauty."

"I meant rather what sort of woman is she."

"Oh ... stupid. Quite stupid. But that's in her favour. She never argues. That to my father means more than silken locks and peach-like complexion. Lips are fascinating to him not because they are luscious but because they keep silent."

"You think that she has kept her hold on your father because she never disagrees with him?"

Sophia Dorothea nodded. "Her stupidity is one of her main attractions."

"Do you really mean that?"

"Of course. Some men like to feel superior. My father doesn't consciously feel superior. He's merely convinced he is. If anyone disagreed with him he would think they were stupid. Some are different. They have to be continually reminded of their superiority because they doubt it. They perhaps are the more dangerous ones."

"I see what you mean," said Caroline slowly; and then more briskly: "Tell me more about Schulemburg."

She came to the court when she was a young girl and was introduced to my father by the Countess von Platen—not the present one ... the wife of the elder Count von Platen. She was my grandfather's mistress and she ruled the Court."

"Then your grandfather did not share this love for stupid women."

"No. He was different. But even he liked them to be clever enough to know when to keep quiet and was as determined to have his own way as my father is. Only he was gallant and witty whereas my father..." Sophia Dorothea shrugged her shoulders. "To get back to Schulemburg: Countess von Platen was in love with Konigsmarck who was my mother's lover so she hated my mother. She advised Schulemburg how to keep my father's favour and my mother quarrelled with him over the creature. He wouldn't have interference from his wife any more than he would tolerate her having a lover. You see how unfair it is for us women?"

Caroline nodded.

"Well Schulemburg suited my father. She's really fond of him and he of her—as much as he could be of anyone. When my mother was sent away Schulemburg was treated like his wife. But she never argued; she never quarrelled; she never criticized him even when he took another mistress, but was always waiting gratefully when he came back to her. That is what the Hanoverians expect of women."

Caroline's eyes narrowed. "So she kept her place all those years. It must be nearly twenty. And although she is no longer beautiful she still keeps her place. It is quite an achievement."

"To succeed through stupidity! "

"But not so stupid."

"Oh it's not by design. That would be clever. No Schulemburg is as she is because nature made her that way."

"And the other ... Kielmansegge?"

"Ah, she is a different kind altogether."

"Yet she keeps her hold too."

"Yes. It must be because my father is too lazy to change. But you could scarcely call him lazy. No. It is habit, perhaps; and the conviction that all women are more or less the same and the only ones who are disagreeable to him are those who voice opinions. Kielmansegge is as ugly in her way as Schulemburg is in hers. She's the daughter of the Count von Platen. You see how useful that family is. Schulemburg introduced by Platen; Kielmansegge the daughter of Platen; and the Countess von Platen, the latest addition to the seraglio, the daughter-in-law of the Platens. Kielmansegge could well be my father's sister. In fact it is more than likely. My grandfather was Clara von Platen's lover over many years, and as her husband was the complaisant kind—he did very well through it as you know—it is more than possible that the children he accepted as his were other people's."

"And she is not in such favour as Schulemburg."

"There is very little in it. She is not so docile ... at least when my father is not about. Schulemburg is completely faithful to my father and always has been. No breath of scandal attaches to our tall malkin; it's a very different matter with Kielmansegge. She is like her mother. The sight of any personable man makes her eyes glisten. She doesn't see why she should reserve herself for my father, particularly when she has to share his favours with others. I doubt whether he could satisfy her if she was the only one. She is as ugly as Schulemburg—only her wig is black instead of red but it's as unbecoming. She's as fat as Schulemburg is thin; and her complexion is so ruddy that she has to tone it down with white powder which is every bit as unbecoming as Schulemburg's rouge."

"I see that your father likes variety. These two are exact opposites."

"Perhaps you are right. Then there is the young Countess von Platen, a most conventional mistress, being young and beautiful. And while she is not entirely faithful like Schulemburg and not as promiscuous as Kielmansegge she is not averse to take a lover now and then."

"I begin to understand," said Caroline. "The Elector has tried to have all women represented in those three. It is what I would have expected of such an orderly mind."

"I think you admire him a little."

"He is a good ruler and I am sorry there is such enmity between him and George Augustus. I should like to change that and make them friends."

Sophia Dorothea shook her head.

"You're beginning to understand them. No one has ever been able to teach them anything. My grandmother gave up long ago and she is a wise woman."

"I shall not receive those three women at my soirée. I believe that that will please George Augustus. In fact I know it will. I think perhaps the Elector would realize then how much happier everyone would be if he showed a little kindness to your mother. I don't suggest that she should come back to Hanover. That would be too painful for everyone. But I do think that if he would allow George Augustus and you to see your mother, everyone would be happier and the dreadful enmity in the family might come to an end."

"You are a reformer, Caroline."

"That amuses you."

"In a way because I don't think you know us here very well. But you will learn." Sophia Dorothea stood up. "I keep you from your duties. But I have enjoyed our talk. We must make the most of our opportunities before I leave for Prussia. There I shall have to concern myself with my own problems. Ugh I Settling ourselves into new homes, is a delicate business. I suppose all wise princesses should remember my mother. Perhaps if she had her chance over again she would behave differently. Who wouldn't? I daresay like me you would accept a great deal rather than be a prisoner in a lonely castle for years and years?"

There was no doubt about it. Sophia Dorothea was warning her sister-in-law.

Caroline looked startled. Coming towards her was the Elector; his expression was cold, his mouth grim. Behind him walked two of the ugliest women Caroline had ever seen. They were like grotesque creatures from some fantastic play, one being so tall and thin, the other short and fat. And with them was the young and beautiful Countess von Platen.

The Elector stood before her.

"I present to you Madam von Schulemburg, Madam Kielmansegge and the Countess von Platen "

Caroline hesitated. She could say that she had not invited them. And if she did?

She looked into the cold cruel face of the Elector, and saw the determination there.

The Electress Sophia who was beside her spoke suddenly: "Now is your opportunity to meet these ladies. I know it has for some time been your desire to do so.'*

Warnings all about her. From the Electress, from her sister-in-law, from the sad prisoner of Ahlden, this band of women who knew what could happen to one of them if they did not accept the right of men to use them, to insult them, to humiliate them.

But there are other ways, thought Caroline as graciously she extended her hand to the tall woman with the raddled skin who came forward.

"It gives me pleasure to see you here," she said coldly.

But the Elector was satisfied. The first hint of rebellion had been quashed.

The English were beginning to arrive at Hanover in large numbers. The passing of the act of Succession naming the Electress Sophia as the heir to the throne should Queen Anne fail to produce a child had sent many, whose popularity at home was not great, scurrying to Hanover to ingratiate themselves with the Queen's possible successor.

The Electress Sophia seemed to have become younger. She was an old woman, older tlian Queen Anne, but the latter had been sickly for years and Sophia did not believe she could outlive her now. If this were so she would have the infinite pleasure of visiting a country which she considered the greatest in the world, and going as its Queen.

Such a prospect was rejuvenating in the extreme. She received the visitors from England with great honour and she entertained them as lavishly as she could and did her utmost to make George Lewis do the same.

Her son however was not so enamoured of the English project as she was. There was no place on earth to compare with Hanover as far as he was concerned and he preferred Germans to English.

What would they think of him? Sophia asked herself. They would take home reports of this crude boor, and the English would ask themselves whether they were wise to pass over the Catholic Stuart for the sake of such a man, Protestant though he was—for Sophia had to face the fact that she was an old woman and there could not be many more years left to her and when she died who was left to be King of England other than George Lewis?

Among those who came to Hanover was the famous Duke of Marlborough. George Lewis received him with pleasure, for although the Duke was a charming handsome man with impeccable manners and some gallantry, the greatest interest to them both was soldiering; and they could discuss the war and future campaigns together to their mutual benefit and pleasure. Each year a Hanoverian army left for Flanders; and often George Lewis was with it. Marlborough had had a great respect for him ever since when quite a young man George Lewis had distinguished himself in the field.

George Augustus longed for military glory. He had repeatedly begged his father to allow him to go to the wars but always he had been met with a refusal.

But the sight of Marlborough there in all his military glory and everyone talking about his successes and repeating the legend that he was unbeatable in the field, that the enemy knew it and lost heart before the battle had begun, George Augustus's desire for equal fame was more than he could endure.

He went to his father and cried out: "Why ... why can't I be a soldier?"

George Lewis turned away in disgust. "Get a son," he said. "Then you shall go."

Get a son. He had been married for some months and there was no sign.

He went to Caroline and told her that they must get a son because he wanted to go to war and his father would never allow him to until their son was born.

"I hope," he said crossly, "that you are not going to be one of those women who can't get children."

She was serene outwardly but inwardly the anxious qualms were troubling her.

It was an unfair world where an intelligent woman must accept the supremacy and domination of her intellectual inferior simply because he was a man and she a woman.

There was always the Empress Sophia to offer her comfort. They walked in the gardens of Herrenhausen together among the statues, clumsy German replicas of French artistry, beside the water works which were faithful copies of those at Marley and Versailles.

"You were wise to receive my son's women," she told Caroline.

"I confess I almost refused."

"It would have been a great mistake to have done so. My son would never have forgiven you and he is a vindictive man."

"Yes, I know that."

Sophia shook her head. "When I go to England, you and George Augustus will come with me. George Lewis will have to also. We shall have a better life there, a more cultured life. I can assure you the Court of St. James's will be a little different from this of Hanover."

"But if the Elector is the Prince of Wales he will doubtless introduce something of Hanover into England."

Sophia shivered. "I shall prevent that for I shall be the Queen."

Caroline had never before seen her so enraptured. She was a different person from the sober serene woman she had known, and it was clear that she could think of little else but the prospect of going to England.

"George Augustus is eager to be a soldier."

"He will in time."

"Not until we have a son."

Sophia turned her gaze on Caroline. "You are anxious about that? You must not be. It is early days yet."

"George Augustus seems to think I am a little tardy in giving him his heart's desire."

"Poor George Augustus!" sighed Sophia. "I am sorry my grandson is such a fool. But you my dear have intelligence enough for both. You must make good use of it. You did right about my son's women. Don't try to fight what can't be fought. And don't worry about not becoming pregnant; it's the worst thing in the world. You are far less likely to conceive if you worry about it. I am sure you will soon be telling me you are pregnant and the joy bells will be ringing in Hanover. I shall be delighted to hear them ... unless I should be in England by then."

Oh yes, her thoughts were far away in England.

"I want to see Sophia Dorothea settled before I leave. I do hope there will be no delay. It will be pleasant to think of her with my dearest Sophia Charlotte's son. I'm sure she would have been delighted. It was a dream of hers that you should come here, Caroline."

But, thought Caroline, not that I should have to subject myself to the whims of a mentally retarded boy.

"Now I want you to come with me and talk to Mr. Howe, the English Envoy. He will tell us about England. It's a pity your English is not better my dear. You have such a German accent and you are far from fluent. We shall have to speak in German, and Mr. Howe would far rather speak in English."

Caroline felt alone. The Electress Sophia, whom she had regarded as a bulwark was now inclining away from her—so wrapped up was she in her own glorious future as Queen of England.

The Electress had to take her mind from England to celebrate the marriage of Sophia Dorothea to the Crown Prince of Prussia. As both bride and groom were her grandchildren she was quite delighted with the match; and she was certain that the pretty, not exactly clever, but spirited Sophia Dorothea would be a match for the rather violent Frederick William. In any case they were both eager for marriage and there had been no reluctant tears from the bride, no protests from the groom. In fact their eagerness was the reason why they were being married at such an early age.

Frederick William was nearly five years younger than George Augustus but he seemed more mature in many ways. They disliked each other intensely so it was fortunate that the newly married couple would not live at Hanover to add to family strife.

In spite of her friendship with Sophia Dorothea Caroline was glad when the celebrations were at an end and the young couple left Hanover. George Augustus's jealousy of his cousin was painful to watch.

She fancied she had grown a little closer to her husband through her friendship with his maternal grandmother the Duchess of Celle, the Frenchwoman who still showed signs of great beauty and who at the end of her life was so sad. The Duchess mourned her husband deeply, even though the last years of the marriage had been soured by the Duke's siding with Hanover for state reasons while the Duchess had one motive in her life which was the care of her daughter. The Duchess would never forgive her son-in-law for what he had done to her daughter. She it was who visited Ahlden regularly, who took accounts of her children's lives to their mother. She would tell of the marriage of the young Sophia Dorothea, of Caroline the wife of her son.

Caroline was attracted by the Duchess, a woman of great culture and charm, as clever as the Electress and far more beautiful. And Caroline knew her friendship towards Sophia was weakening because of that she immediately felt towards the Duchess. The Duke of Celle had refused to marry Sophia, had given up lands and titles rather than do so; and that was something, even so many years later, that Sophia found hard to forgive. Particularly when he fell so deeply in love with the woman he married and with whom he remained deeply in love, until the marriage of their daughter brought such bitterness into their lives. Sophia had hated the Duchess of Celle with a vindictiveness which appalled Caroline; and after that she did not feel so friendly towards the old woman. Moreover Sophia's preoccupation with the English had already driven a rift between them and a coldness had sprung up, which a few months before would not have seemed possible.

George Augustus was delighted with Caroline's friendship towards his mother's mother. At the same time he was doing his best to please the English visitors. It was a natural instinct to go against everything that his father stood for.

It was a great relief when Caroline realized that George Lewis was indifferent to her friendship with the Duchess of Celle. She supposed it was because he thought the Duchess too insignificant to be of importance. If she attempted to see the prisoner she would be sternly reprimanded, but of course she would do no such thing. She was learning how to be a Hanoverian wife, outwardly docile. But there was something they did not understand: inwardly she was in revolt.

Domestic storms could blow up quickly in Hanover. Violently and suddenly they arose out of the most insignificant incidents.

George Augustus marched into his wife's apartments, his face red and puffed, his eyes watering with emotion.

"Have you heard the news?" he demanded.

Alarmed she asked what catastrophe had happened.

"That puppy Frederick William is going to the Netherlands."

"Oh?" said Caroline surprised.

"Don't stand there saying Oh. Can't you see what this means! He's going with the armies. He's going to fight. His father has not stopped him. He doesn't have to get a son before he goes. He's five years younger than I and yet I'm kept out and he's allowed to go! "

"Your time will come..." began Caroline soothingly.

"Yes, when you have given me a son. When will that be? What signs are there? Do you think you're barren? God knows you ought to have shown signs by now. And my father is laughing at me with those scarecrows of his. George Augustus ... married to a barren wife ... we'll keep him at Hanover till he's too old to make a soldier."

"George Augustus, this is absurd."

"Absurd, is it? I tell you he's gone. Gone to win honours on the battlefield. And they're laughing at me because I'm not allowed to be a soldier ... because I can't get a son. They're jeering at me ... me ... the Prince. And all because you are barren. If I'd known it..."

He stopped and looked at her. He hadn't meant to say that. He was proud of her. She was beautiful. She had never really crossed him ... she never showed off as he called it, after that one attempt when he had made her understand that he didn't like it.

But he was angry. He was too unsure of himself to accept the fact that he could occasionally be wrong. He always had to be in the right, always the injured party. If his father would not let him go to war that was because his father was jealous of the honours he might win. If he was not yet a father that was Caroline's fault.

He picked up his wig and throwing it on the floor stamped on it; then kicked it round the room. It was a favourite outlet for outraged feelings; and after that display of physical violence he felt a little better.

He took up his wig, slammed it on his head and walked out.

He would show them whose fault it was that he had no son.

Caroline did not see him this night. The next day she learned that her husband had a mistress. Such news travelled fast in Hanover.

If only Sophia Charlotte were here, she would have advised her what to do. Life was so disappointing, so unfulfilled. How she longed for Lutzenburg, and intelligent conversation beneath the trees!

What was life at Hanover? There was no culture. Leibniz was still with them but he despaired of bringing distinguished scholars to the court, and even the Electress was no longer interested in philosophical discussion now she had one aim in life—to gain the crown of England before she died.

And here was Caroline—young, beautiful, vital and above all clever, doomed to be the typical German wife, to remain silent when her husband spoke, to accept his word as law— even though he had the mind of a boy of fourteen and the manners and control of one younger—to be humble, docile, suppressing all desires but to be a good wife and bear many children.

No! said Caroline.

But what was the use of rebelling when one was in a Hanoverian prison? There was at least a pretence of freedom here which was more than there was at Ahlden.

There were times when she felt she could give way to despair but in her heart she knew that because she had a more alert mind, a deeper power of concentration, because she had considerable more knowledge than her husband, there must be a way of eluding his domination. She was certain that in time she would find it. And until she did she must allow him to believe that she was the wife he wanted her to be. That was the way she would always have to live. She would always have to let him believe that he was the master. There was no harm in playing a game of pretence so long as in reality she was in command of her own destiny.

And she would be.

It was with great joy that Caroline was able to announce that she was pregnant.

George Augustus came to her in a mood of contrition. He had been angry, he explained. Not with her, of course, but with his father. It was always his father.

"He frustrates me, Caroline. He does everything he knows to annoy me. I shall never be happy until he's dead."

Caroline told him he must not say such things; as for that other matter, since it was over they would say no more about it.

He fell upon her embracing her. She was the best wife in the world. It should never happen again. And now they would have their son. His clever beautiful Caroline had at last become pregnant. He would have a son and she should have a husband whose military exploits were the wonder of the world.

Once I have a child, thought Caroline, that child's interests will be the centre of my life. Then I shall not care that I have an adolescent boy for a husband.

"The Crown Prince and his wife are reconciled," said the Court. "There was never a more devoted husband. Why he is with her every minute of the day. She will grow weary of his company."

If she found his company a little tiring she was pleased to have it. It was a triumph for that policy which the Electress Sophia had used to her advantage.

The Electress complimented her on her tact.

"It is the first which is often a little difficult to accept. I remember my own case. I was young then and a little unworldly, I suppose. I was quite grieved. I quickly learned though, as you will, my dear. Never interfere with a husband's mistresses and you may find that you can have charge of almost everything else. It was a rule I followed with my husband; and Ernest Augustus was a clever man; your husband is a fool."

Caroline did not deny it.

But relations between her and the Electress were still lukewarm because her friendship with the Duchess of Celle continued to make a rift between them, although Sophia did not mention it. But that difference was almost obliterated by Caroline's attitude towards the English.

Caroline had decided that it was impossible to pursue a solitary course at Hanover. She had to take sides either with the Elector or his son; it would be folly, she knew to alienate her husband, so she had ranged herself beside him. That meant that she must delight in the English as George Augustus was doing—not because he liked them, but because his father didn't care for them.

Therefore the rift between the Electress and herself was slowly being bridged.

Sophia was also delighted by Caroline's pregnancy.

She hoped with her that the child would be a boy.

Everyone was waiting for the birth of the heir of Hanover. The child should be due by November, it was said, and the Court was preparing to celebrate; even the Elector realized that the birth of a grandson should be heralded by a little extravagance.

But November passed and although the Electoral Princess continued to look as though she were in the last stages of pregnancy still the birth did not take place.

The Electress Sophia was worried. At last here was something to turn her attention from the English throne.

She talked to Caroline as they walked in the gardens together.

"You are feeling well?" she asked.

"Yes, as well as can be expected in the circumstances."

"But... shouldn't your time be at hand?"

"Doubtless I miscalculated."

A week or two, yes, thought Sophia. But December was upon them, and the child was very much overdue.

She talked to some of the doctors.

It sometimes happened, she was told, that w^hen a woman ardently wished for a child she had all the outwards symptoms of pregnancy, but there was no child. This seemed hardly likely in the case of the Princess Caroline. She was not a nervous type; she seemed so serene, so certain. But it was strange that the child did not arrive. It might be that she was not pregnant after all.

George Augustus was having his uniform made. He was certain that he would soon be going into battle. One thing in the favour of his father was that he kept his word.

All through the December they waited and still there was no birth.

Christmas passed and the New Year Carnival was celebrated throughout Hanover in accordance with the old custom. There were fancy dress balls in the Palace and the Town Hall; for the New Year was brought in with revelry among the high and the low.

In the Opera House of which George Lewis was justly proud operas were performed—the one divertisement that George Lewis could tolerate.

Caroline appeared at the revels, obviously pregnant; but everyone was saying now that there would be no child. Only Caroline was certain that she would soon bear a child; and George Agustus, dressed as a General at the fancy dress ball, was certain he would soon be at the wars.

On a cold January night Caroline went to bed and during the night her pains started.

The next day the long awaited child was born.

It was a boy.

Exhausted and triumphant, Caroline lay back on her pillows. She had succeeded when all the court had thought she would never give birth to a child at all but was the victim of some strange disease.

But there he was, a strong healthy child, bawling with a good pair of lungs to let the world know that he had at last arrived.

George Augustus came to show her his uniform and to admire the baby at the same time. He looked with fond admiration at his wife. Clever Caroline! She had produced a son and given him his heart's desire; he was overcome with love for her; he knelt by the bed and covered her hands with kisses.

The Electress came to see the baby.

"It's to be hoped," she said, "that he will have more sense than his father."

The child was christened Frederick Louis and was known as Fritz; Caroline called him Fritzchen.

So he had his son; now he could go to war.

He must first fit himself for the task, said George Lewis; but he could now study military tactics and be ready perhaps to leave Hanover with the next expedition which would not be for some months.

To argue with George Lewis might mean some fresh embargo so George Augustus curbed his impatience and set about learning how to become a soldier. He enjoyed the life; he was certain it was the one for him; meanwhile he was attentive to his wife and liked to watch the progress of little Fritzchen.

When the baby was six months old Caroline thought she had caught what was said to be a chill and kept to her bed for a day but as she grew worse the doctors were sent for.

Her blood had become overheated, she was told. It happened sometimes after childbirth.

She said she would rest in her apartments for a few days and asked that Fritzchen be brought to her.

Fritzchen was sleeping, she was told.

"Then as soon as he is awake," she said, "bring him to me."

But the child was not brought and it suddenly dawned on Caroline that the doctors had not told her the truth.

She sent for them and demanded to know it.

The doctors exchanged glances; she would have to know sooner or later.

"Your Highness, we fear the smallpox."

The smallpox! That dreaded scourge which either killed or ravaged. And it had come to her!

Someone was at her bedside.

"Who is there?" she whispered.

"It is your husband."

"George Augustus. What are you doing here? Don't you understand... ?"

"I understand/' he replied dramatically.

"But you are running a risk."

"Who but I should nurse you at such a time?"

She was incredulous. He nurse her! He could not do it. He would be of no use whatever in a sick room. Yet he was determined to share her danger. What a fool... but a brave fool! If he could not show his valour on the battle fields of Flanders he would in his wife's sick room.

"George Augustus," she said weakly. "You must not stay here. It is folly."

He leaned over her, unnecessarily close. "Did you think I should desert you at such a time?"

"You have convinced me of your devotion. I am touched by it. But please ... please don't stay here."

"Rest assured that I shall never leave you."

"For my sake go, George Augustus. I am so anxious for you."

He leaned over the bed and kissed her.

For her sake. No, for his own, she thought in weary exasperation. He wanted the whole court to be talking about the brave devotion of its little Prince.

Through her illness—and she was very ill—she was aware of him. She heard his voice through her delirium; she heard the sound of breaking china; she was aware of the shape of him close to the bed, the touch of his hands.

Go away, George Augustus, she thought.

She heard his voice. "She is in the critical stage, I know. Tell me ... tell me the worst. It will break my heart but I can bear it."

She was too ill to care whether he went or stayed. And throughout Hanover they were saying: "The Electoral Princess is dying."

There came a day when the crisis passed and she found herself still alive.

George Augustus was sitting by her bed, holding her hand.

You ... fool, she thought.

She heard his voice, high pitched with self-satisfaction. "You're better, Caroline. I've been with you the whole of the time. I never stirred from your bed except in the evening. Then I took a horse and rode for miles. I had to take some exercise, and I thought that would keep me well after staying the whole day at your bedside. I nursed you, Caroline. They are saying in the palace that no Princess ever had a more devoted husband."

"Thank you, George Augustus."

"That shows you, doesn't it? That shows you! "

Contrition for infidelity, she thought; although all the time he was with his mistress he was telling himself it was his right.

She murmured faintly: "You are very good, George Augustus."

"Oh yes, they told me I was running a terrible risk. They told me I should catch the pox. You've been very ill, Caroline. We didn't think you'd live. And I was there all the time ... even at the most contagious time. They begged me not to stay but I wouldn't go. I said: Caroline is my wife. No one can nurse her as I can."

Nurse her? How had he nursed her? She pictured him, fussing round the bed, getting in the way of doctors and nurses, talking too much not about her needs, but his own courage.

Oh go away, go away, she thought wearily. Leave me in peace.

But she said: "Thank you."

And his voice went on telling her a little of how ill she had been and a great deal about how brave he had been.

Caroline sent for a mirror. It was brought with some reluctance. This was the moment which all sufferers from the smallpox had to face. It could be terrifying.

Caroline held it up and caught her breath. There was change, and although she was not disfigured, the pox had not left her unscathed. When did it ever do that? But she was not badly marked although her delicately coloured complexion had gone.

She sighed. It was sad for a woman, who needed all her weapons to fight for and hold her place in the world, to find one of her valued assets though not entirely lost, blunted.

It was inevitable, said everyone, that George Augustus should have caught the smallpox after his attendance in his wife's sick room. Very soon the news was brought to Caroline that he could not visit her because he was sick.

She was relieved because she could not visit him, but as she lay thinking of him she felt a new tenderness for him. She knew him well enough to understand his need always to call attention to himself; she knew that his devotion to her—in fact every action in his life—was directed by this motive; and yet he had braved this dreaded disease; he had shown his devotion to her.

Lying there, thinking of George Augustus, she came to new terms with her life. She would try to understand him, to help him conquer that feeling of inferiority which being smaller than most men had given him and which manifested itself in arrogance and apparent conceit.

Their destiny lay together. There should be no discord between them.

She must remember that in future. She must curb her impatience; she must try to give him the confidence he needed and perhaps she could do this by letting him know she valued him.

She would try to make him understand this when ... if he recovered.

If he recovered? She shivered at the possibility of his not doing so. And it was not only because of the uncertainty his death would place on her, for after all she was now the mother of little Fritzchen who was one of the heirs to Hanover and possibly the crown of England. No. It was not that. Could it be that she really had some affection for the little man?

The Prince's attack was a slight one and he soon came to Caroline's apartment in good spirits.

The need to go to war was temporarily forgotten; he had won his laurels for bravery in the sick room.

Caroline was still very weak having suffered a more severe attack and George Augustus was delighted to prove his great resistance to the disease, having taken it after and recovered sooner than his wife.

The Electress Sophia came to see them as soon as there was no danger in doing so.

She embraced them both and was delighted she said to see them well again.

"It has been a very anxious time," she told them. "The whole Court was plunged in melancholy, so fearful were they. The English were very disturbed. They think very highly of you both."

She looked at them proudly as though it were more commendable to please the English than to recover from an attack of the smallpox.

She was thinking that poor Caroline looked very wan. She will never again have that bright young beauty, that freshness, she thought. Although she has come through better than I expected; but the change is there.

As though reading her thoughts Caroline said: "You are thinking I have changed."

"Very little," answered the Electress. "And you have to get really well yet. You have had a very bad attack, remember."

"And do you think / have changed?" demanded George Augustus.

"You don't look as if you've had the pox at all," replied his grandmother. "The people might wonder whether some fleas had bitten your face."

George Augustus was examining his face at a mirror.

People would look at him and say: Have some fleas bitten his face? And the answer would be: No, he caught the smallpox, you know. He could have avoided it, but he would nurse his wife. He saved her life. Brave. I should say so! How many men or women would risk their lives like that!

His grandmother and wife watched him, understanding his thoughts.

They smiled.

Sophia said: "I am pleased to see you two so happy together."

George Augustus came and taking his wife's hand kissed it.

"I'd do the same again," he said.

It was a happy convalescence.

George Augustus was more contented than he had ever been.

He had a son; he had nursed his wife through the smallpox, had caught it himself, had recovered, and was training to go into the army.

He was a very loving husband.

Caroline became pregnant again and to George Augustus's great joy he was allowed to join Marlborough's army in Belgium.

George Lewis spoke to him before he left telling him that he was fortunate to be with the greatest captain in the world; and for the first time in their lives father and son seemed almost fond of each other.

With George Augustus away Caroline was able to spend a great deal of her time with the Electress Sophia and in the gardens of Herrenhausen they talked with Leibniz and other visitors to Hanover. It was almost like being in Lutzenburg again, for the little coldness which had sprung up between the old Electress and Caroline was over. There were so many English in Hanover now that it was known as Little England, and Sophia secretly called herself the Princess of Wales and longed for news from England that Queen Anne was no more.

They were happy days, for Caroline believed that his war experiences would give George Augustus maturity and that she might eventually learn to make a good life with him.

Fritzchen caused a little anxiety by not being able to walk; he was a pretty child but small for his age and backward.

When it was discovered however that he had rickets special care was taken of him and he began to show improvement.

As with Fritzchen, Caroline had miscalculated and when the time came for her child to be born nothing happened, but she remained calmly waiting. So pleasant it was to wander in the gardens of Herrenhausen; to stroll through the orangery while music was played for them and Leibniz talked to them; with George Augustus away and no one to reprimand her for talking like a scholar rather than a Princess, she was happier than she had been since the death of Sophia Charlotte.

Together they discussed the religious controversy which was taking place in France at the time between the Jesuits and the Jansenites and Caroline was in her clement in the centre of discussion, surprising them all with her knowledge for she had always possessed an extraordinarily retentive memory and remembered everything she read.

Those were happy days.

There came news from the battle front. Oudenarde had been won under Marlborough's command and George Augustus had distinguished himself by his bravery. At the head of the Hanoverian Dragoons he had led them to victory and although his horse had been shot under him, he had plunged into the thick of the fighting and to the admiration of all had proved himself as fine a soldier as his father.

The English at Hanover were talking about his bravery and Marlborough had written to the Elector congratulating him on the Prince's action. He had played his part in the great victory, said Marlborough.

Even George Lewis was pleased with his son ... for a time; then he realized that his success on the battlefield had made him a hero in the eyes of the English and as those at Hanover had already reported back to London that the Electoral Prince was more favourable to the English than the Elector, the old antagonism was as fierce as ever. Was his son trying to ingratiate himself with the English? wondered George Lewis. Was he hoping that they would want to pass over the father and take the son?

George Lewis had no great desire to accept the crown of England; but on the death of Anne and Sophia it would be his ... not his son's. George Augustus could only have it on his death.

George Augustus returned to Hanover flushed with triumph, ready to receive a hero's welcome. There were many ready to give it and he was content. For his father's grim disapproval he cared nothing; in fact he was glad of it. He had no wish for the hatred between them to be diminished. He revelled in his new popularity. The people of Hanover, he liked to believe, as well as the English, loved him better than his father.

There was his devoted wife, large with child. There was little Fritzchen shouting with glee at the sight of his brave Papa.

George Augustus had never been so happy in his life.

And on a dark November day Caroline's second child was born—a healthy girl.

"We will christen her Anne," said the Electress, "in compliment to the Queen of England."

Caroline agreed that this was an excellent idea and Anne of England graciously consented to be godmother to baby Anne of Hanover.

George Augustus who had to leave before the birth wrote of his joy in the event and in his wife who had given him so much happiness.

"This token of your love attaches me to you more deeply than ever. The peace of my life depends on knowing you are in good health and upon the conviction of your continued affection towards me. I shall endeavour to attract it by all imaginable love and passion and I shall never omit any way of showing you that no one could be more wholly yours, dear Caroline, than your George Augustus."

When she read that letter, holding her newly born child in her arms with little Fritzchen beside her, she told herself that she had passed through the dangerous years of marriage. She would know how to find happiness in the life that lay ahead.