by Jean Plaidy
He cared for all that seemed empty to his wife. He enjoyed colourful ceremonies and never lost an opportunity of indulging in them. Often it was necessary for Sophia Charlotte to appear with him and this she did, but it was with reluctance that she put on the robes of state, the glittering jewels which so delighted her husband, and took her place beside him; and as soon as possible she would discard them and put on some loose, flowing garment, in Caroline’s eyes so much more tasteful and beautiful than flamboyant purples and gold, and instead of glorifying the power of the Electorate, talk of art or literature, philosophy or music.
Caroline, while having no affection for the Elector, often marvelled at his tolerance towards his wife. He would look at her wistfully and long for her to interest herself in his affairs and yet he never showed displeasure that she did not do so; only sadness. Whereas Sophia Charlotte had no desire to draw him into her life and was quite content for him to go his own way.
It was only natural that he should resent the girl who had so easily won the love of his wife in a manner which he had been unable to do, in spite of everything he had done for her – particularly as, with the coming of Caroline, his wife had grown even further from him.
There were occasions when, on his way to bed, he would look in at her gatherings which were just beginning. He would stay awhile to listen to the music of a young boy named Handel whom she had discovered and was encouraging – for she was constantly discovering and encouraging someone; or exchange a word with one of her Huguenots or Catholics or perhaps Leibniz who was one of the most eminent philosophers of the day. He would not stay; he would be too weary to do anything but yawn at their learned discourse; and in any case, he felt unwanted.
Caroline, very much aware of him, always relieved when he left, often felt that their happy home would have been nearer perfection if the Elector had not been there.
But growing in wisdom as she was, she knew that those moments when she and Sophia Charlotte were together could not have been quite so rapturously wonderful if there had been perpetual contentment.
For Sophia Charlotte there were the petty displays of pomp for which she had no feeling; there was the fact that she was married to a man whom she could not love; there were anxieties about the wild nature of her only son – but from all these she had her escape, and she and Caroline were together every day.
So the golden years began to pass and Caroline was growing into a handsome young woman.
Caroline’s greatest friend in Berlin, next of course to Sophia Charlotte, was Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz, and from him she first became deeply aware of the family at Hanover.
Leibniz had come to Lützenburg to visit Sophia Charlotte from Hanover, bringing messages from the Electress Sophia, and when Caroline began her friendship with him he was in his late fifties. Recognized as one of the most learned men in Europe, he was both philosopher and mathematician, and had originally made a name for himself at two universities and later by the ideas he presented through his writing.
The Electress Sophia, Sophia Charlotte’s mother, had welcomed him at Hanover; and because Leibniz was a man who had a great respect for money and position, he allowed himself to be seduced from the universities to the courts of princes where he hoped to make his fortune.
The Electress Sophia had given him charge of the archives at the Hanoverian Palace, and one of his main duties was to write for the glorification of the house of Hanover.
Sophia, whose favourite child was Sophia Charlotte, liked her daughter to share in her pleasures and so she sent Leibniz to Lützenburg.
Sophia Charlotte had welcomed him to her band of philosophers and Leibniz was delighted to linger in such an enchanting place. He would sit in the arbours and conduct a discussion between Vota the Catholic, Beausobre, the Huguenot preacher and Toland the English freethinker, while Sophia Charlotte and Caroline listened and now and then offered an opinion. It was all very interesting and, as Sophia Charlotte often said, if only the same good sense could be shown all over the world as was seen in her arbours and salons, there would be no bloodshed over religion, for men would put their views forward in argument, not by torture and the stake.
Although Leibniz was contented at Lützenburg, he often talked affectionately of Hanover.
One day when her son Frederick William had been more difficult than usual, Sophia Charlotte spoke to Leibniz of her anxieties about the boy. Caroline was present.
‘He seems to grow quite unmanageable,’ sighed Sophia Charlotte. ‘His governors and tutors have no power over him.’
Caroline frowned to see her adored Sophia Charlotte so worried. The boy was her anxiety. He was several years younger than she was but had begun to notice her. She was thinking of an episode which had occurred a few days before. He had pulled her hair so hard that she had cried out with the pain; then he had held her captive and attempted to kiss her, and when she had protested he had laughed at her.
‘My mother will try to marry us to each other one day, so I should like to try you first,’ he had told her.
‘You are insolent,’ Caroline had retorted.
‘And you give yourself airs, Madam Caroline. You should go down on your knees and beg me to marry you.’
‘That I should never do to anyone… least of all you.’
‘And why least of all me, pray? You should be very grateful for me… if you can get me. Do you realize that I shall be the King of Prussia one day? You do not answer, Madam Caroline.’
‘I was too busy feeling sorry for Prussia.’
She had turned and walked away. ‘Don’t worry, Madam Caroline,’ he had called after her. ‘My father would never agree to let me marry you. You’re a nobody… a nobody! Not good enough for marriage with the King of Prussia.’
Yes, he was an insufferable boy and she disliked him. She was only sorry that Sophia Charlotte cared so much for him, which was of course understandable since he was her only son… her own son which must be different from an adopted daughter.
So now she listened intently to what his mother was saying to Gottfried Leibniz.
‘He has not enough discipline here,’ was Leibniz’s verdict. ‘There are no other boys of his equal. The grooms and squires he spends his days with are in awe of him. He needs to be treated roughly by his equals. Why not send him to Hanover where he could be with his cousins.’
‘You think Hanover… at this time… is a good place for him to be?’
‘The best possible place. There he can become friends with his cousin, George Augustus, and find he doesn’t get all his own way.’
‘I often think of those poor children. Do they miss their mother much?’
‘It is a long time since they saw her.’
‘But to know that she is kept a prisoner in Ahlden! Do they never ask for her, want to see her?’
‘Oh yes. George Augustus often speaks of her. I have heard that he remembers her well and talks of rescuing her.’
‘And my brother?’
‘The Prince Elector behaves as though he never had a wife. He is happy enough as matter stands. He has his heir George Augustus and his daughter Sophia Dorothea.’
‘The fact that she is named after her mother must remind him.’
‘He gives no sign. He continues to amuse himself…’
‘With Ermengarda Schulemburg?’
‘She remains his favourite.’
Sophia Charlotte shivered. ‘And you think my son would be better off at Hanover!’
‘Your mother’s there to take good care of him.’
‘Yes,’ answered Sophia Charlotte, ‘there is my mother.’
And as a result Frederick William was sent to Hanover.
Gottfried Leibniz liked to gossip with Caroline when they were not discussing deeper matters. He had a great admiration for the Electress Sophia, the mother of Sophia Charlotte, and he liked to chat about the court of Hanover; and since this had once been the home of her beloved Sophia Charlotte it was of great interest to Caroline.
How different a childhood Sophia Charlotte had had from Caroline’s! And yet about her had whirled similar storms and passions to those with which Caroline had become acquainted at Dresden. The story of Sophia Dorothea of Hanover was far more tragic than that of Caroline’s mother, for while fate had intervened to save the latter, poor Sophia Dorothea had had no such help.
Leibniz gossiped often of that tragic affair; he talked of George Lewis, Sophia Charlotte’s elder brother, whom – as a man without learning – he despised.
‘If you could imagine the complete opposite of our gracious Electress Sophia Charlotte, that would be her brother.’
‘He sounds quite loathsome,’ declared Caroline.
‘I think that is the opinion of almost everyone except Ermengarda Schulemburg and one or two other of his favoured ladies.’
‘Tell me about his children.’
‘George Augustus is about your age… a few months younger, perhaps. He is like his father in many ways, but I think he might be an improvement on him. He is fond of music. The only sign of culture these Hanoverians have is a love of music. Literature… art… philosophy… don’t exist for them.’
‘How could the Electress have such a brother?’
‘She resembles her mother. The Electress Sophia is one of the cleverest women I have ever known.’
‘Surely not cleverer than her daughter?’
‘When the Electress of Brandenburg is as old as her mother she will be as wise. I can’t give her higher praise than that.’
‘I should like to meet the Electress Sophia.’
‘You will one day. She often talks of visiting her daughter. Our Electress is her favourite child.’
‘I can well understand that.’
‘I believe you and the Electress Sophia would be good friends.’
‘Tell me more of her. Tell me about Sophia Charlotte’s childhood.’
‘Oh… those brothers! They were continually warring with each other. It began in the nurseries. George Lewis is such an oaf… so uncouth, so crude. I know the Electress Sophia has always regretted that he was her eldest. She would have preferred any of the other boys as Electoral Prince.’
‘Did George Lewis know this?’
‘If he did he didn’t care. He was happy enough left to himself to pursue his two main interests.’
‘And what were they?’
‘War and women. In the reverse order.’
‘And what of his father and mother. Were they happy together?’
Leibniz shrugged his shoulders. ‘The Electress Sophia is a wise woman. Ernest Augustus her husband was a man who would have his mistresses. Sophia looked the other way. In fact she didn’t bother to do even that. She expressed a lack of interest in his extra-marital affairs.’
‘But why?’
‘It was no concern of hers, she said. A wife should not grudge her husband his mistresses as long as he spent enough time with her to give her children.’
‘It seems a strange philosophy of marriage.’
‘The Electress Sophia is an unusual woman. Because she remained faithful to this doctrine she has been accorded every dignity, she has been a power at her husband’s court and she is the mother of many children.’
‘And she did not care that he was unfaithful to her? I can’t believe that.’
‘She is a great lady of higher rank than her husband; being the daughter of a Queen and the granddaughter of a King of England. She never forgets it.’ He smiled a little wryly. ‘Nor will she allow anyone else to.’
‘And because of this she does not care that her husband was unfaithful?’
‘Her royalty is the ruling passion of her life – that and the possibility of her attaining a crown. Beside that, all else seems insignificant. She has heirs of her body. She could be Queen of England and after her, George Lewis could be King.’
‘England! That is far away.’
‘To the Electress Sophia it is home. She has never been there but she calls it so. One day she hopes to receive the call which will take her there and that it will be to mount the throne. You know what her chances are.’
‘Yes. But there is a King across the water. Don’t you think he will come before the Electress Sophia?’
Leibniz laughed maliciously. ‘When the Electress engaged me to work at Hanover, one of my duties was to attempt to weld together the Catholic and Protestant faiths. But when the law of succession was passed in England, there was a clause which said that only a member of the Reformed Faith could wear the crown of England. The Electress ceased then to be interested in this welding of the faiths. She was a Protestant and she decided to remain one.’
‘She is not a woman of strong faith.’
‘Her faith is in the English crown. She believes it to be the most prized diadem in the world and England the home of all that is desirable. Religion to her is something to be of use to rulers. She maintains that only rulers unworthy of the name allow it to rule them. Every day she grows nearer to the English throne her Protestantism grows stronger.’
‘You find this admirable?’
‘I find it… wise.’
‘Isn’t that a cynical view of religion?’
‘It is not a matter of cynicism. You have listened to – and indeed partaken in – our discourses. We are groping in the dark. What is faith? The very word suggests that there is reason for uncertainty. Whom do you, a young woman of good sense, admire most, the man who convinces himself he believes blindly and shuts his eyes to reason, or the one who says I am not sure but eager to find out, therefore I shall listen to every argument?’
‘Naturally I think it wiser to have an open mind.’
‘Like that of the Electress Sophia. She has an open mind. In the meantime if she has a good chance of attaining the throne of England as a Protestant and no chance at all as a Catholic, wisdom decrees that she shall be a Protestant and a Protestant she is.’
‘Of course it is wise, but…’
‘You are too emotional, my dear young lady. That is your youth. When the tempest is blowing you must trim your sails accordingly. Always remember that. Is it wise to be wrecked for a principle? So much depends on what is involved? In life one rarely comes to a clear solution. Perhaps there is none. That is what makes our discussions here of such interest and such value.’
‘But you yourself, I heard declined the custodianship of the Vatican Library for a principle.’
‘You are wrong.’
‘But I heard that the Pope himself offered you this appointment and you refused because to have accepted it would have entailed becoming a Catholic.’
‘That is true in part. I had no intention of becoming an adherent to any one form of religion. What if I had? My freedom would have been restricted, and all avenues except one closed to me. I should have accepted this and that, because it was the law laid down by the Pope.’
‘But is that not declining for a principle?’
‘In truth no. At the heart of my refusal was the knowledge that I could lead a fuller life at courts such as this and that of Hanover. I could become richer, more famous out in the world.’
‘Then you are ambitious.’
‘I shall not know what manner of man I am until I come to the end of my life.’
Sophia Charlotte joined them.
‘I see as usual that you are giving Caroline something to think about,’ she said with a smile.
The Electress Sophia visited Lützenburg accompanied by her grandson Frederick William.
There was great preparation for their arrival, for not only was Sophia Charlotte eager to have her son home again but she was delighted at the prospect of having her mother to stay with her.
Caroline was inclined to be a little jealous and this Sophia Charlotte recognized at once.
‘My darling,’ she said, ‘you will love my mother and she will love you. Instead of the two of us now there will be three. We shall be a trinity.’
Caroline was unsure; from all she had heard of the Elect
ress Sophia she visualized a formidable woman.
She was agreeably surprised, for although the old Electress was indeed formidable, she showed nothing but pleasure in meeting Caroline.
‘My daughter tells me such news of you,’ she said on their first meeting, ‘that I am impatient to meet you. Why, you have a charming face, and I am grateful to you for making my dear daughter so happy.’
It was a good beginning, for it was apparent to Caroline that Sophia was a woman who would say what was on her mind and it appeared that because her daughter had explained how much Caroline meant to her, the Electress was prepared to accept her too.
Her nervousness evaporated and she found herself being as natural as she was in the presence of Sophia Charlotte and, with the approving eyes of the latter upon her, she proceeded to find a way into the good graces of the mother.
The entertainments at Lützenburg delighted the old Electress and she was invariably to the fore in the discussions that went on. She was delighted to meet her old friend Gottfried Leibniz and even more pleased to see him so happily settled at her daughter’s court.
She liked, too, to wander in the gardens with Caroline and sound her to discover, Caroline was sure, whether she lived up to the reports her daughter had sent her. Caroline found herself playing the part of earnest young philosopher, seeking the truth, playing it in the manner she thought would best appeal to the old woman.
Am I being a little false? she asked herself. Were the Leibniz doctrines teaching her never to be herself, always to stand outside a scene, metaphorically, and look in on herself playing a part? Was it better to forget to watch oneself, to be natural, to say the first thing which came into one’s mind? One would be more honest if one did. But it was so easy to do or say what was unwise, perhaps to change the whole pattern of one’s life by a word or a small action.
Sometimes it seemed to her that there was no definite right or wrong way of living. Sometimes she allowed herself to believe that life would go on forever as it was now: Herself the companion, handmaiden, devoted daughter of the one she loved and always would, she believed, beyond all others. But common sense told her this could not be. Sophia Charlotte herself would not wish it. She would want to see her married, a mother, making a home of her own. There were only two ways in which she could ensure a life with Sophia Charlotte until death parted them. One was to remain unmarried; the other was to marry Sophia Charlotte’s son.