During the so-called trial, at Lauenau, the princess resided in the chief official residence in that place. At the close of the inquiry she took a really final leave of her children—George Augustus and Sophia Dorothea—with bitter tears, which would have been more bitter still if she had thought that she was never again to look upon them. She had concluded that she would have liberty to live with her mother in Zell. She had no idea that her father had already agreed to his brother the Elector’s desire that she should be shut up in the castle of Ahlden. She found herself a state prisoner.
The oath to be taken by her appointed household, or rather by the personal attendants—counts and countesses in waiting and persons of similar rank—was stringent and illustrative of the importance attached to the safe-keeping of the prisoner. It was to the effect ‘that nothing should be wanting to prevent anticipated intrigues; or for the perfect security of the place fixed as a residence for the Princess Sophia Dorothea, in order to maintain tranquility, and to prevent any opportunity occurring to an enemy for undertaking or imagining anything which might cause a division in the illustrious family.’
CHAPTER IX.
PRISON AND PALACE.
The prison of the captive Sophia Dorothea—Employment of her time—The church of Ahlden repaired by her—Cut off from her children—Sympathy of Ernest Augustus for his daughter-in-law—Her father’s returning affection for her—Opening prospects of the House of Hanover—Lord Macclesfield’s embassy to Hanover, and his right-royal reception—Description of the Electress—Toland’s description of Prince George Louis—Magnificent present to Lord Macclesfield—The Princess Sophia and the English liturgy—Death of the Duke of Zell—Visit of Prince George to his captive mother prevented.
The castle of Ahlden is situated on the small and sluggish stream, the Aller; and seems to guard, as it once oppressed, the little village sloping at its feet. This edifice was appointed as the prison-place of Sophia Dorothea; and from the territory she acquired a title, that of Duchess of Ahlden. She was mockingly called sovereign lady of a locality where all were free but herself!
On looking over the list of the household which was formed for the service, if the phrase be one that may be admitted, of her captivity, the first thing which strikes us as singular is the presence of ‘three cooks’—a triad of ‘ministers of the mouth’ for one poor imprisoned lady!
The singularity vanishes when we find that around this encaged duchess there circled a really extensive household, and there lived a world of ceremony, of which no one was so much the slave as she was. Her captivity in its commencement was decked with a certain sort of splendour, about which she, who was its object, cared by far the least. There was a military governor of the castle, gentlemen and ladies in waiting—spies all. Among the honester servants of the house were a brace of pages and as many valets, a dozen female domestics, and fourteen footmen, who had to undergo the intense labour of doing very little in a very lengthened space of time. To supply the material wants of these, the three cooks, one confectioner, a baker, and a butler, were provided. There was, besides, a military force, consisting of infantry and artillery. Altogether, there must have been work enough for the three cooks.
The forms of a court were long maintained, although only on a small scale. The duchess held her little levées, and the local authorities, clergy, and neighbouring nobility and gentry offered her such respect as could be manifested by paying her visits on certain appointed days. These visits, however, were always narrowly watched by the officials, whose office lay in such service and was hid beneath a show of duty.
The successive governors of the castle were men of note, and their presence betokened the importance attached to the person and safe keeping of the captive. During the first three years of her imprisonment, the post of governor was held by the Hof Grand-Marshal von Bothmar. He was succeeded by the Count Bergest, who enjoyed his equivocal dignity of gaoler-governor about a quarter of a century. During the concluding years of the imprisonment of Sophia, her seneschal was a relative of one of her judges, Georg von Busche.
These men behaved to their prisoner with as much courtesy as they dared to show; nor was her captivity severe in anything but the actual deprivation of liberty, and of all intercourse with those she best loved, until after the first few years. The escape of Fräulein Knesebeck from her place of confinement appears to have given the husband of Sophia Dorothea an affectionate uneasiness, which he evidenced by giving orders that his wife’s safe-keeping should be maintained with greater stringency.