Game of thrones plays on in Germany
The northern city of Hanover is filled with royal intrigue, from family feuds to extravagant acts of love.
On a low hill in northern Germany sits a castle straight out of central casting, all towers, turrets, ramparts and crenellations, protected by a moat and virtually hidden in a forest awash with fragrant English dogwood. It sounds perfect for Married at First Sight which, at the time this fairytale edifice was conceived, was often the order of the day for European royalty. But not everyone in fairytales gets to live happily ever after, and Schloss Marienburg seems a better fit for Family Feud, Hanover-style.
The 140-room castle, 30km south of this royal city, was a birthday gift in 1857 from Hanover’s King George V to his queen Marie. It translates as “Marie’s castle” and she requested something romantic. Therefore, once past the troll-like stone figures guarding the oak doors, the place has whimsy. Flowers drape from the balustrades around the courtyard, and it’s no surprise when a team of white horses clip-clops through the gate, pulling an equally snowy white landau bearing a wedding couple headed for the castle chapel.
There are touches of fantasy all around, such as the child’s bedroom painted with scenes from classic fairytales. Queen Marie’s library with its elaborate parasol vaulted ceiling is a storybook in itself; 21 separate craft studios worked on its fitout. The stained glass was transported from Italy in a protective coating of butter.
Touring the castle, one element missing is any patina of habitation; the 1860s basement kitchen, for instance, looks as if it’s never been used. The castle took 10 years to build, but even before Marie got to move in, things went pear-shaped. Her husband picked the wrong side in the brief 1866 Austrian-Prussian War, refusing the demand of his first cousin King William of Prussia to unite their armies. The Prussians invaded, George fled, and the unfinished Marienburg became Marie’s halfway house when she was kicked out of her palace in town. A year later she joined George in exile, and they never returned.
The king didn’t see his gift, at any stage, as he was blinded in youth. In a literally touching gesture, workers created a model in cork he could run his hands over. It’s in a foyer near the chapel.
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Once Marie left, Marienburg was mothballed until after World War II when the Hanover royals – now bearing only courtesy titles in republican Germany – returned to begin much-needed restorative work, which has never been completed. Some rooms lack layers of stucco, parquet or wallpaper, and several display cases are empty. It has caused ructions.
Like his distant cousin King Charles, Prince Ernst August von Hannover is having issue with his issue. In 2004 he transferred Marienburg’s title to his son, also Ernst August who, to offset the place’s huge upkeep, offloaded the family silver – a setting for 200, no less – and other artefacts from the castle inventory. But that was not enough, and in 2018 he tried to gift it to the state of Lower Saxony. Appalled at the boy’s “gross ingratitude”, Dad revoked the donation, a move still being argued among lawyers and politicians.
Marienburg was the House of Hanover’s only house to escape Prussian subsumption. When Marie moved on, her town residence Schloss Herrenhausen was acquired by the city. That place had been conceived in the mid-1600s as a summer retreat for when the main palace, the riverside Leineschloss a mere 4km away, became too boggy.
Herrenhausen was just a small manor house and garden, and Hanover’s ruler, an earlier Ernst August, started extending it, particularly the garden because he believed “horticulture was a means of power-conscious representation of prestige”. The main mover was his wife, Princess Sophia, granddaughter of Britain’s James I. She wanted a mini-Versailles, and French landscaper Martin Charbonnier gave her the Great Garden, a 50ha Baroque wonderland of floral beds, hedges, groves, orchards, paths, statuary, ponds and fountains. Even 350 years later, it’s an incredible display, and you can lose yourself for hours – much like a later princess, Sophia Dorothea, who would rendezvous with her lover in the myriad quiet corners.
In contrast to the razor-cut landscaping is the garden’s grotto. Built in 1676, it was covered with shells, crystals and bronze but these were later removed. In 2000, French-American artist Niki de Saint Phalle redecorated the caverns with colourful mosaic figures plus, high on one wall, the stacked letters B-E-A-N; Rowan Atkinson was a friend.
The palace buildings are modest and somewhat dwarfed by the garden’s grandeur. Seriously damaged during World War II, they weren’t fully repaired until 10 years ago, and the only rooms available to public gaze are two museum galleries. They’re full of haughty portraits of royals and courtiers, plus an eclectic mix of Baroque treasures, even the king’s sedan chair.
Two other royal palaces in Hanover contribute to the city’s life. Welfenschloss, a Gothic Revival castle, is the main building of the university, while the old palace Leineschloss houses the state parliament.
Similar historical highlights are strung together on the Red Thread, a self-guided tour along a line painted through the city. A common thread is the bombing barrage, destruction so complete that just 50 of the city’s heritage half-timbered buildings remained after the war. Marktkirche, the 14th-century main Lutheran cathedral, was almost gutted, too, but now looks good as new, apart from the modern chairs that replaced its 600-year-old pews. The equally aged Aegidien church fared much worse and its shell stands stark as an official war memorial.
The Red Thread weaves through Hanover’s main cultural and retail areas but also delivers quieter corners. Ballhofplatz is a compact square with a couple of restaurants favoured by locals eschewing the tourist precinct several streets away. But you need to go off piste to find Hanover’s enclave of good Turkish restaurants around the Am Steintor plaza.
That, then, is Hanover, a lovely modern city with a smattering of fascinating follies. It’s interesting to ponder, though: had Germany not gone down the republic route, Hanover could have remained a royal redoubt, ruled by men who, in name and in nature, were earnest and august.
MORE TO THE STORY
Why is King Charles not also “king” of Hanover? He could have been once, as the Germans were drawn in through the Settlement Act of 1701, by which only a “legitimate Protestant” could assume the British throne. When Queen Anne died in 1714, the closest candidate was George Ludwig, Elector of Hanover, who otherwise was not in the first 50. Britain thereon was ruled by Hanoverians, until 1837 when William IV died. None of his 10-plus children was legitimate, and the British throne went to his niece Victoria. Hanover wouldn’t have a woman, however, so their crown was passed to William’s brother Ernst August, father of the erstwhile master of Marienburg.
But blue-blooded ties are hard to break. The Settlement Act lays down that British monarchs must still be legitimate Protestant descendants of Herrenhausen’s grand designer Sophia. And until only recently, Hanover royals wishing to marry required the permission of Buckingham Palace, such as when the current Ernst August married Monaco’s Princess Caroline
in 1999.
IN THE KNOW
Marienburg and Herrenhausen are open for tours.
schloss-marienburg.de/en
visit-hannover.com/en
Hanover is three hours by train from German entry points such as Frankfurt and Dusseldorf.
Jeremy Bourke travelled at his own expense with assistance from Rail Europe.