The Princess of Celle: (Georgian Series) (11 page)

‘You think he would?’

‘Not easily. He would have to be heavily bribed, I doubt not. But your brother the Bishop is very … bribable.’

‘Do you propose that I should go and talk to him? My dearest, I have hinted it a thousand times.’

‘No, let us send Chancellor Schütz. He is a loyal minister and will make a good ambassador. Let him sound your brother, and if we fail …’

‘Yes,’ he said, ‘if we fail … oh, my love, how could I have been such a fool!’

‘You were not a fool. How much worse it would have been if you had
married
Sophia.’

‘God forbid.’

‘How much more difficult our position would have been then. No, do not reproach yourself, my love. What is done is done. It is the future with which we have to concern ourselves. And if this fails then we will try something else. If I have to plead with the Emperor himself, I intend to have my daughter recognized as legitimately yours.’

‘You will succeed, my love. Do you not always?’

Eléonore was determined to, and soon after Anton Ulrich rode away from Celle, assured that Sophia Dorothea would be legitimized by the time she was of marriageable age, and that George William’s wealth which was increasing year by year, would be hers, Schütz left too, and his destination was Osnabrück.

Sophia was seated with her six maids of honour embroidering an altar cloth, for she had never approved of idleness. One of the maids read aloud as they worked, for, decreed Sophia, although the fingers were busy the mind should also be occupied.

In actual fact she was paying little attention to what was read, for her thoughts darted from one thing to another. Was the allowance of one hundred thalers given to these maids of honour too much? The household accounts which she examined herself were always a shock to her. The tirewomen, the chambermaids and the maids of honour … to think of a few, were so costly. And then, more so than ever, the gentlemen of the household. That was Ernest Augustus’s affair, but this was
one characteristic they shared; they both deplored the high cost of the household. But since George had returned to Celle and set up his elegant Frenchified court there, the court at Osnabrück must have some standing.

It was perfectly easy to see, Sophia had pointed out to Ernest Augustus, that George William wanted visitors to go to his castle and think of him as the head of the house. And since they would find Celle so much grander than Osnabrück, they would begin to get it into their heads that Celle was the leading court of the house of Brunswick. Hence, Osnabrück must vie with Celle – and a costly business it was. Cupbearers, chamberlains, gentlemen-in-waiting – and the thalers mounting up.

In addition there were the nursery expenses. Over the last years the inhabitants of this important part of the household had increased. George Lewis, now eleven years old, and Frederick Augustus aged ten, had been joined by Maximilian William, now five, Sophia Charlotte, three, and Charles Philip, two. They must have their governors, tutors, fencing masters, dancing masters and pages as well as their attendants.

Thalers, thalers, whichever way one looked, thought Sophia.

She sighed and said: ‘That’s enough.’

The maid of honour who had been reading, promptly closed the book and Sophia, setting aside her needlework and signing to another of the maids of honour to put it away, left them and went to the nursery.

She was rather anxious about that eldest son of hers. He was intelligent enough, but so unattractive. His brother Frederick Augustus was charming in comparison and Sophia secretly wished that he had been the elder.

She found George Lewis, instead of sitting at his lesson books, directing a campaign across the schoolroom table – his brother Frederick Augustus in the role of opposing general. Little Max William and Sophia Charlotte had evidently been assigned other rôles in the campaign and, poor little mites, they did not appear to be enjoying them.

Frederick Augustus sprang to his feet when his mother entered and made the courtly bow which he had been taught; but Sophia’s eyes were on George Lewis, whose brown face had
flushed a little as he lumbered awkwardly towards her, and clumsily made his acknowledgment.

Sophia made a note: I must speak to Platen about him.

‘Where is your Governor Platen?’ she asked.

George Lewis shook his head implying that he did not know.

‘Do not shake your head at me, sir. Have you no tongue?’

‘Yes, I have.’

‘Have what?’ demanded Sophia.

‘A tongue.’

‘Should you not give me some title when you address me?’

‘Yes … Madam.’

‘I am glad you deign to do so. I never saw such manners. And what is this game you are playing?’

‘I am a general,’ piped up Frederick Augustus. ‘You see, Mother, my men are facing those of George Lewis but I fear he has manoeuvred his forces into the better position.’

‘It is a pity he cannot manoeuvre his manners a little more expertly.’ Sophia gave a loud laugh. ‘I want to see Platen. You go and find him and take him to the antechamber. I will be there shortly.’

Frederick Augustus went off and Sophia gazed in dismay at her eldest son who continued to stare down at his feet. ‘George Lewis,’ she said impatiently, ‘why do you stand there? Why don’t you say something?’

‘What do you want me to say?’ he mumbled.

Sophia Charlotte had toddled up to her mother pulling Charles Philip with her; and Max William was waiting hopefully for his share of her attention.

‘I want you to say something which will tell us that you are not the complete oaf and boor you seem to be.’

She turned to Sophia Charlotte.

‘Mamma …’ said Sophia, her pretty face flushed with excitement. Sophia picked her up. How pretty she was! and Charles Philip was pulling at her gown too.

Sophia sat down and took the young ones on her lap while Max William sidled up.

‘Well, my son,’ said Sophia, ‘what were you doing in the campaign?’

‘I was a general … a little one.’

‘And you have left the battle?’

He rubbed his finger on the soft material of her skirt and smiled up at her shyly.

‘Perhaps that is because you were only a little general, my son.’

Max William lifted his shoulders and laughed childishly. Sophia laughed with him; and the little ones joined in.

They were delightful, these children of hers … all except George Lewis who had no manners, no grace; he had now gone back to the table and was moving the toy soldiers there with a concentration that meant to imply he found them more interesting than anything else in the room.

He should be whipped, thought Sophia indignantly. He was a boor. How had it happened? His tutors and governors were to blame. But were they? She had told Ernest Augustus that she was beginning to suspect no one could make anything of George Lewis.

When he had been a baby she used to say she loved him because he was so ugly. It was amusing perhaps for a baby to be ugly, but when the baby grew up and became an uncouth, ill-mannered boy that was another matter.

Frederick Augustus came back and said that their governor was awaiting the Duchess’s instructions and was in the antechamber when she wished to see him. So Sophia took leave of the children and went to join their governor.

Baron Frank Ernest von Platen was a mild man, but an ambitious one, determined to raise himself in the royal household. He saw an opportunity of doing this when he was appointed to the post of governor to the children of the reigning house. Being cautious he had become wealthy, and Ernest Augustus was inclined to favour him.

‘Ah,’ said Sophia, ‘so here you are.’

‘At your service, madam.’

‘I want to talk to you very seriously about George Lewis.’

Platen looked grave.

‘You may well look as you do. I find his progress most unsatisfactory.’

‘He is not as bad as he seems, Madam.’

‘I hope not, for then I should despair; but it is necessary for a Prince to appear
better
than he is … not worse. Don’t you agree?’

‘I am in complete agreement.’

‘And yet this pupil of yours is a boor without the grace to behave with ordinary good manners.’

‘Madam, he is George Lewis. If he makes up his mind to act in a certain way then he will do it. Let me say this, that his knowledge of military history is good; that I am sure he has great courage. But there are some subjects in which he has no interest. And he refuses to try to excel in light conversation.’

‘He is eleven years old. I should not have thought it was for him to lay down rules as to what he should and should not do.’

‘He is a Prince, Madam. Already he knows his mind.’

‘Then he will have to learn, will he not, that it is not his place to make decisions?’

‘He can be very stubborn,’ said Platen. And vindictive too, he thought, when he is crossed. George Lewis would remember a score for years, Platen was sure; and that was a point to remember when it was certain that one day he would rule in place of his father.

‘Something will have to be done. How is his English?’

‘I am uncertain, Madam. Perhaps you would wish to speak to his tutor?’

‘I would,’ she said.

‘Then, Madam, if you will excuse me, I will find out and send him to you.’

Glad to escape, Platen went out and in a few minutes returned with John von dem Bussche, the Princes’ chief tutor.

‘Now,’ said Sophia, ‘I am asking how my eldest son progresses with his English.’

‘Not at all, Madam, I fear.’

‘Not at all! But he must speak English. It is almost his native tongue.’

‘He has no aptitude, Madam. He is tolerably good at other languages but English seems to be beyond him.’

‘He must speak English. It would be such a disgrace if he did not. He is part English, as you know. I wish him to study not only the English tongue, but English history, for that is the history of my family.’

The two men caught each other’s eye. Sophia’s preoccupation with England and the English were well known through the palace. It might even be that the recalcitrant George Lewis knew this and that was why he shut his mind to all things English … and in particular their tongue.

‘Well, you will see that he learns his English. And I am most disgusted by his awkwardness. If you wish to keep your posts at least teach him how to bow and move with some grace. He may have to go to England one day and I would be most ashamed for my relations there to see my son as he is today. I can tell you this, that my cousin the King of England is one of the most charming men in the world. His manners are perfect … and they always were. I would wish my son to be as my cousin.’

‘In this matter of manners?’ murmured John von dem Bussche with a daring which made Platen wince. Really, he would have to be a little more careful if he wished to keep his post. To refer to the blatant immorality of Charles II before his cousin Sophia was a little dangerous.

Sophia saw fit not to notice the lapse.

‘Let this be attended to,’ she said.

Then she left them to go to her husband, for this matter of her son’s unfortunate character weighed deeply on her mind.

Ernest Augustus was sleeping after a heavy meal; she could smell the sauerkraut about his clothes and person as she approached.

‘Ernest Augustus,’ she said, ‘Wake up. I am disturbed.’

He started and looked at her in surprise. ‘My dear, this is hardly the time …’

‘You were very preoccupied when I wished to have a chat with you before.’

This was a reference to his current intrigue with Esther, one of Sophia’s
femmes de chambre.
She was mildly irritated, wishing that he would look a little higher in his
amours.

‘Well, what troubles you?’

‘George Lewis troubles me, and he should trouble you too.’

‘Is anything wrong? I thought he was in good health.’

‘His health’s rude enough – the trouble is so is he. His manners are disgusting; he makes no progress with the English tongue; he shambles like an idiot; he gapes, and stammers … In other words, he is an oaf, a boor … and something should be done about it.’

‘What?’

‘Perhaps he should be sent abroad on a grand tour.’

‘Well, that might be possible. I suppose you’re thinking of sending him to England.’

‘To England!’ cried Sophia. ‘I should be ashamed. To my own people … and him such an oaf! You know Charles with his gracious manners!’

‘I have heard he performs superbly in the bedchamber.’

‘He is a King and must have his diversions. He is not the only one who spends much time and energy in that room.’

Ernest Augustus was quiet. He marvelled at her tolerance. It was one of her greatest virtues in his eyes. But he did not want to abuse it.

Sophia went on: ‘George Lewis is not ready yet to go to England, but I trust in good time he may be. It would seem that my cousin Charles’s wife is a sterile woman, and that he’ll get no issue from her.’

‘He does very well outside the marriage bed. Ha, ha.’

‘Which shows that the fault does not lie with him. We are not a sterile family. I wonder if he ever remembers that I was once promised to him. That would give him food for thought when he considers
my
nursery.’

She was a little indignant that Charles had not asked her hand in marriage, and in spite of the fact that she was so proud of her connection with him she bore him some resentment. Yes, she was a proud woman. Ernest Augustus was glad to discover her vulnerability.

‘He seems carefree enough and he has a brother.’

‘Yes,’ said Sophia, ‘with two daughters. Who knows, one of them might do for George Lewis.’

‘That would delight you! An English wife for George Lewis!’

‘And, has it occurred to you, if one of those girls were Queen it might be the crown of England for George Lewis.’

‘You set your ambitious ideas very high, Sophia.’

‘That’s what ambition is, my dear husband. I want George Lewis to be ready … if fortune should be good to him. His boorish manners shock me deeply. Something must be done. I think that as soon as it can be managed he and Frederick Augustus should do a tour of Europe. Not England … no, no… . He must improve before he goes there. But perhaps Italy … France… . What do you say?’