*****
Meanwhile the widowed Princess of Wied made use of her practical talents by attending to the affairs of her son, who had not yet attained his majority. Prince William had left the College at Basle, and was now to start on a journey to the East (1865–1866). His mother had asked the Crown Prince of Prussia to recommend a military gentleman to her to accompany the Prince on his travels. He named his friend and playfellow, General Mischke, who was then a captain. The architect, Professor Kachel, who afterwards became Director of the Schools of Art in Carlsruhe, was the Prince’s scientific companion. Accompanied by these two gentlemen the Prince travelled through Italy to Egypt. There he met Prince Anton of Hohenzollern, and they proceeded together on their journey through Syria and Palestine, Constantinople and Greece. In Athens, however, they received orders to join the army, and hurried back to Germany, where the Prince of Wied was attached to the staff of the Crown Prince. The war with Austria was soon over, but PrinceAnton of Hohenzollern was not to see his country again. He died of his wounds soon after the battle of Königgratz.
During the months of February and March 1866 Princess Elizabeth was at Wiesbaden, on a visit to her uncle, the Duke of Nassau. Here she took singing lessons and learnt to play the zither, and was very happy. In May the Princess of Wied visited her relations at Braunfels, Laubach, and Schlitz, with Princess Elizabeth. The young Princess was charmed with the fine castles surrounded by the fresh green of the woods. She often said—“The mediatised Princes have the best of and lead the happiest lives. I should never wish for more than a castle in a wood, where I could do much good, and receive the friends I love. That is the most enviable fate.”
In the autumn of 1866 Princess Elizabeth again accompanied the Grand Duchess Hélène on her travels, and this time they went to Ragaz, and whilst there they saw much of General von Moltke, then at the height of his glorious career. He joined in their games of bowls in the morning, and variousjeux d’espritof an evening, with the utmost amiability and simplicity, and Princess Elizabeth became much attached to this so eminent and distinguished man. Whilst discussing the political situation they spoke of Prince Charles of Hohenzollern, whohad been chosen as Sovereign Prince of Roumania shortly before the outbreak of the war between Prussia and Austria. A few years before this General von Moltke had made a scientific journey through Silesia with the Crown Prince and Prince Charles. “That young Prince of Hohenzollern will make his mark and become talked about” were then the prophetic words of the Field-Marshal.
The Grand Duchess had finished her cure. They were to leave Ragaz in a few days. Princess Elizabeth was to return to Monrepos, but a letter from her mother changed her plans. Her favourite cousin, Catherine of Oldenburg, had died at Venice. The sufferings of her mother, Princess Thérèse, increased after the death of her lovely daughter, and the doctors urged a sojourn in the south of Italy upon her. She besought her sister, the Princess of Wied, to allow Princess Elizabeth, for whom she had conceived a great affection in St. Petersburg, to accompany her. Although it was hard for the young Princess to extend the separation from her mother for many months, her resolution was soon taken. She hoped to find scope for her energies in this family circle. In September 1866 they travelled to Rome, where they remained a short time, and to Naples. At first Princess Thérèse had taken an apartment in an hotel for manymonths. But though they kept away from all society, it was noisy and uncomfortable on account of the traffic in the crowded streets. Princess Elizabeth, who was accustomed to a quiet room and quiet hours, felt it particularly. Her cousins too were always surrounding her, and did not leave her a moment’s peace. “I gave myself up to melancholy reflections,” she writes to her mother. But all changed for the better when they took a villa on the Pausilipp. Here she took up her regular occupations, and writes: “I have work, much work; for those that seek it, find it. The beauties of nature and the mild air constantly renew my strength.” She now gave her cousin, Thesa of Oldenburg, lessons in German, English, and arithmetic, and says: “My intentions are good and true, and a blessing may perhaps rest upon them. Nor shall I be melancholy any more, when I am in the treadmill of regular work.” Her poems written at this time are mostly grave and full of religious thoughts, but sometimes the brightness of youth overpowers her, and cheerful, happy songs flow from her pen.
To her Mother.
“Naples, Santa Brigitta,19th January 1867.
“Yesterday we moved here. The sirocco has been blowing for some days, and the wild waves of the seaare foaming. The seagulls are skimming between the spray, which is thrown up to a great height, and last night the storm shook our house. The clouds are low, and cover the peaks of Vesuvius, while wind and rain beat through our windows and make weird music. The sea is green and grey, the white foam shines like phosphorus. It is just what I like. I should love to go out alone in the storm to let it rage about me, to sing a wild song to the waves, which nobody listens to or hears, and which remains my own, though I sing it loudly. Then I should come home as quiet as a lamb, and listen to the storm no more. Now the bank of clouds is rolled away, and a rosy light spreads itself quietly over the foaming, angry sea. It spreads itself further and further from the horizon to our feet, soothing and shining, and brings happy thoughts to my heart. If that would learn to be still it could also command the storm, and in its depths it is still. For through all, my quiet home is the anchor which holds me fast, the haven which receives me when my sails are rent. Man belongs to nature, and is her greatest and completest work, and therefore we love and have confidence in men, even when they are passionate and excited.”
*****
“20th January.—As we woke to-day upon our hill,the sun shone upon the sea, which is like a sheet of glass. The doors and windows are wide open, and the soft air of May pervades me and our rooms, and brings in happy and cheerful thoughts. It has wakened all my pleasure in life and power of work. When I raise my head the mighty Vesuvius is spread before me, and its peaks lost in the clouds. To the left I look down to the town, which shines below me in the sun. The sea spreads itself to my right, with the sharp points of the Island of Capri. For the first time Naples appears to me magically beautiful, for the first time I can gaze undisturbed upon the grand beauty of nature here. Peace, which I have not felt for a long time, steals into my heart. I feel as if I could swing myself into the light air as if I had a hundred wings which drew me to the sun, as if new life came to me. It is worth battling with the storm to feel such heavenly peace. Even the waves of the sea are hushed as though they feared to break the stillness. Everything seems to me to call, ‘Peace, Peace.’ It is too beautiful for words, and the joy is too deep; it is like a song of thanksgiving, a golden dream from which we would not wake. My little cousin walks up and down in the next room and hums a tune. The beautiful world has had a good influence upon her also, for the cloudswhich lay upon her brow have vanished. I should like to write nothing more than the perpetual refrain, Peace has returned. A fly is buzzing at my window as though it were midsummer, and a bird is chirping in the distance. I allow nature to charm me and to caress me like her spoiled child. Do not fear my becoming dreamy and idle: I am only dreaming with you. The instant the pen leaves my hand the cares of daily life surround me with a thousand claims, which have all to be satisfied. I may not dream long, so grant me these few moments. I only draw myself up like a wave before it rushes onwards and gathers strength for the work which I have taken in hand. I never forget for a moment that I have two hours’ lessons to give to this spoilt child the day after to-morrow. I am quite prepared for it. I feel that though she may learn more from any schoolmaster than from me, I can perhaps influence her mode of thought by these lessons, which will be of more use to her than the deepest learning. I try to teach her, what you taught, to love people for whom you have no sympathy. If I do not marry, I shall pass my examination as a teacher. To that I have made up my mind. Tell Pastor Harder that I have never lost sight of this object, though I am driven hither and thither. For I must accomplish this,which has been in my mind for years. And though I sometimes feel that I am presumptuous and arrogant, I usually think the contrary. ‘Your vocation is what calls you’ is all that I have remembered of Brentano’s fairy tales, and what calls me is teaching. I wait in patience. If I have understood it wrongly, it will be made clear to me. Here I have that lot assigned to me. I teach for ten hours a week, and am present at all the lessons given. Tell the Pastor that I am constantly repeating his good maxims, and hope to prove myself his worthy scholar.”
We see that Princess Elizabeth is ambitious in the best sense of the word. “Thus she is impelled to teach, for in teaching lies great power.”
“Naples, 5th February 1867.—Aunt Thekla has died, and Uncle Max has died. It is worth while to have lived as he did, and he does not die unmourned. Indeed it was a beautiful death, which one might wish to have after so rich a life. I pray God that I may die mourned after a life of labour, even though I should have no children and grandchildren. The life of Uncle Max was rich and full of interest. I think it was beautiful.”
“Naples, 3rd April 1867.—Sometimes I feel so old, but not sorrowful—no! quite the contrary. I shouldlike to be much, much older, to have the duties and the rights of an old maid. I often feel as if I had had a mist before my eyes lately. The happiness to have spent time and strength where they are most needed is too great. I am not at all afraid of that dreadful word ‘old maid.’ I share it with many whom I have often envied for their strong though quiet influence. Work is what I must and will have, and then all can say of me, ‘That is a happy girl.’ The time is soon over. It has gone by quickly, very quickly. God knows that I had the wish to do some good, to accomplish something, and have some influence. I see no results, but that I did not expect. Perhaps a little trace may be left behind. I am not so proud as to think that I can carry all before me like a mountain torrent. Perhaps I am but a little drop, but if Heaven has let me fall on the right place, I can joyfully become absorbed by the sunbeams!”
In May 1867 Princess Elizabeth was overjoyed to return to Monrepos. “She returned to her quiet home in the forest and became a child once more.” But it was not for long. The amiable niece had become necessary to the Grand Duchess Hélène, and she was constantly enticing her away from home. In August we find her again in Carlsbad with heraunt. The Grand Duchess was very unwell, and Princess Elizabeth had to receive the ladies and gentlemen who came to pay their respects. She writes as follows about her impressions and the people who frequentedthere:—
“Carlsbad, 2nd August 1867.—I have in these last days made the acquaintance of some people with whom I am so enchanted that I am constantly wishing you were here. First comes Frau Arnemann, a Norwegian lady, with bright black eyes, which fascinate one. She has always been with artists, and her life has been rich but sad. Her impressions of people are quite extraordinarily correct, and I have often seen astonishing proofs of her clairvoyance. She is quite magnetic. Frau Arnemann introduced the painter Piloty to us, a very amiable and refined person. We go into raptures over Italy together. Then we have got to know the great singer, Frau Unger-Sabatier, who is here with her pupil and niece, Fräulein Regan. Frau Unger-Sabatier is a perfect artist, wise and clear-headed, with the sacred fire and yet not too much of the fervour of the dilettanti. Her great pleasure is to train young singers. Her niece, Fräulein Regan, is twenty-three. Her voice is like a flute, and she sings to wonderful perfection. She is also a very cultivated girl, whospeaks French and Italian not only well but beautifully, and understands and renders the songs perfectly. I feel myself drawn to her as to a magnet.”
Her intercourse with Edith von Rahden was also a great pleasure to the Princess. She says of her: “Edith has become more mild and gentle than ever, and esteems every one, irrespective of their position towards herself.” “I know how to be grateful for every happy hour, and what greater happiness is there than to be treated as a friend by a woman of experience.” Later the Princess Elizabeth writes to her mother: “If ever I made up my mind to a marriage, I should like to have a settled home, a house on my own property, and not to begin a wandering life, which never takes firm root anywhere. I do not now seek my vocation where it seems difficult and troublesome, and have no other wish than to live quietly and work where I can.”
Among the gentlemen who were about the Grand Duchess at that time was Walujeff, a Russian Minister, Tolstoi, Rouher, Piloty, Count Keyserlingk, the Curator of the University of Dorpat, and the Privy Councillor Von Brevern, “who is of a refined and very sensitive nature. His kindness brings thoughts to me which I should scarcely like to mention.”
Meanwhile Maria von Sulzer had married her cousin,and had come to Monrepos in the summer in a very suffering state. There her strength declined visibly. Feeling that her death was near, she had a great longing to return home. Shortly afterwards the Princess of Wied received news of her death. We read in the journal of Princess Elizabeth of the 4th of September:—“Maria Sulzer has died. Death is but an old friend to me, a serious friend, and yet kind, if one knows how to meet him. Heaven sends me countless blessings every day. Indeed I cannot repine. For my life is rich and full, which I constantly repeat to myself. And if all the loved ones were to be taken, it would still be blessed a thousandfold, for still all are mine. Even if the flowers fade, we do not forget that they once bloomed, and that we enjoyed their sweet perfume. Indeed my heart bleeds, but still I am abundantly blessed.”
We find the following poem on the death of this belovedfriend:—
“Draw you nearer,Let weeping cease;In her chamberAll is peace.Angels hoveredSoftly o’er her;In the nightAway they bore her.Death o’er her sensesDid softly creep;Saved her a parting,Wrapped her in sleep.Flowers of beautyWreathe her around;Drowsily chimingThe sweet bells sound.Draw you nearer,Let weeping cease;In her chamberAll is peace.”
“Draw you nearer,Let weeping cease;In her chamberAll is peace.Angels hoveredSoftly o’er her;In the nightAway they bore her.Death o’er her sensesDid softly creep;Saved her a parting,Wrapped her in sleep.Flowers of beautyWreathe her around;Drowsily chimingThe sweet bells sound.Draw you nearer,Let weeping cease;In her chamberAll is peace.”
“Draw you nearer,Let weeping cease;In her chamberAll is peace.
Angels hoveredSoftly o’er her;In the nightAway they bore her.
Death o’er her sensesDid softly creep;Saved her a parting,Wrapped her in sleep.
Flowers of beautyWreathe her around;Drowsily chimingThe sweet bells sound.
Draw you nearer,Let weeping cease;In her chamberAll is peace.”
From Carlsbad the Grand Duchess travelled with her great niece to the great Exhibition at Paris. There Princess Elizabeth had arrived unwell; she suffered from a bad throat and momentary deafness. Consequently she could not enjoy the great sights with her usual freshness. The reception at the Tuileries, visits to the Exhibition, to the Louvre and the neighbouring castles, seemed like a dream to her. Under the impression of this deafness, and inclining as ever to melancholy thoughts, she writes to her mother—“I have often thought in these last days that one can well do without occupation in old age. Then we can sit in our arm-chair, lost in thoughts, quite still, and without prejudice. One can think sweetly of the dead, and tell those around one of our past life as a curiosity. I fancy it very beautiful. I would not change now, for I would taste of life with all it brings, and hope to toil and endeavour. But all the time I shall look forward to the peace of old age.”
The suffering state of the Grand Duchess Hélène necessitated another sojourn in Ragaz, but she would not let her niece leave her side. It was the end ofSeptember before they arrived, and few visitors were there. This quiet they found very refreshing after the noisy bustle and moral tension of Paris. The young Princess became quite herself again. Her restless mind immediately undertook new work.
“Last night,” she writes on the 22nd September 1867, “I was telling Fräulein von Rahden so much about our lost little brother (Prince Otto) that she exclaimed—‘His life must be written. It will be a great blessing for all who read it.’ She told me to write as fully as possible, and said that what was written in the greatest simplicity must, if it comes from the heart, find an echo in the hearts of others. I have wished to do this for years, and felt that I ought to do it, and found it too difficult. I really think that the moment has come now. I should like to add a detailed memoir to our archives.
“I have just come from the little church, in which I heard a beautiful sermon. Pfarrer Steiger preached from Jer. ix. 24, ‘For in these things I delight, saith the Lord.’ It was full of enthusiasm, and suitable to my state of mind, which was rather sad, as many memories awake here in Ragaz. And then this good man brought God’s healing, conquering, and inspiring love so near to us that I nearly wept for joy. It was too beautiful. I seemed to hear Maria Sulzer’s voice saying to me, ‘Layyourself in the arms of God.’ I have already thought of writing prayers for our church, but I am not sufficiently advanced. Perhaps I shall be able to do so when I am writing Otto’s Memoirs.”
“Ragaz, 30th September.—Thinking of our little services, I have written the enclosed prayers. Perhaps you can use them. I have also begun Otto’s Memoirs, and have written to Nana (Prince Otto’s English nurse) and begged her to give me details of his earliest childhood, ‘If with all your hearts ye truly seek Me, ye shall ever surely find Me, saith the Lord.’ I should like to inscribe this text on every page. I should like to seek and find Him. I have never really loved Him. Frau Arnemann says: ‘God is drawing me to Him through all that I love, and whom He has taken to Himself.’ How gladly I will let myself be drawn! This winter I shall stay at home, and look forward to it much. I have my hands full of business too, for when I have finished my translation of Carlyle I have a new plan. Frau Arnemann always wished me to write a book for children. Only I cannot think of anything suitable. I can only write about what I have lived through and felt.”
After many fine days, during which walks of three or four hours were undertaken, a sudden and lasting fall ofsnow had induced the Grand Duchess to leave Ragaz. Princess Elizabeth now returned home. She spent the winter quietly and happily with her mother at Monrepos. “I look back upon this time with particular pleasure,” she writes; “I think of the dreamy hours spent in the little room, of the endless conversations on deep subjects with Fräulein Lavater, and of the evenings when our spinning wheels hummed and my brother read aloud to us.” In the summer of 1868 she travelled to Sweden on a visit to her royal relations. She calls Sweden the land of poetry; and the magnificence of nature there, and the beautiful legends which are attached to every stone, inspired her fancy. She liked to be in the north, and delighted in Stockholm. The magnificent town is enthroned like a queen of the waters on her islands between the lake and the sea. It is surrounded by many oaks of a hundred years’ growth, which are the masts and pennons of the ships, and historical treasures of all sorts. “We made a wonderful expedition to the Malarsee. The Duke of Ostgothland, the present King Oscar II., had taken a ship, and we glided on the shining sea between a hundred emerald isles to the curious old castle of Grypsholm. What added immensely to the charm of our voyage were the songs of the Swedish officers, whom my uncle invited for our amusement.These gentlemen sing nearly the whole day, and songs varied according to the places we passed. Their voices were as clear as bells, whispering mysteriously or sounding loud in the uncontrollable joy of youth. My uncle had the tombs of the kings in the Riddersholmskirche open for us to see. Each dynasty has a separate vault. I laid my hand upon the coffins of Gustav Adolph and Karl XII., but could not help shuddering before these open graves. The drive through the country to Helsingborg was very fine. We passed more than a hundred seas. The red wooden houses and the castles built of red tiles are picturesquely situated between the huge blocks of stone of volcanic origin with which the whole country is strewn. These blocks are covered with beech and fir trees. We spent a night in Toncoping, and wandered through the bright wooden town, by the shining Wettersee, at five in the morning.”
With the facility peculiar to her, Princess Elizabeth learnt Swedish, and could soon read “Tegner’s Frithjofsage” and the beautiful poems of Runeberg in the original. The Princess of Wied had spent three months in Sweden with her daughter. On the way back they visited Copenhagen and Friedrichsborg, and stayed some days with their relations at Arolsen. There PrincessElizabeth was a peculiar favourite of her cousins of Waldeck, and her appearance at Arolsen gave the signal to endless rejoicings.
Princess Elizabeth had scarcely returned to Monrepos with her mother when the Grand Duchess Hélène called her niece to her side at Heidelberg. In November of 1868 she spent three most enjoyable weeks there. The recollections of this time were so deep and lasting that Princess Elizabeth, then Princess of Roumania, mentions it nine years after with such life and freshness as if years and great changes had not come over her meanwhile. We will here give that part of a letter written from Bucharest in May 1877:—
“How beautiful it must now be in Heidelberg! Have I not spent almost the happiest three weeks of my life there with my aunt and so many distinguished people. A gathering of great thinkers, Kirchhoff, Friedreich, Bluntschli, Treitschke, Gervinus, and Helmholtz in one drawing-room! Besides which Joachim with his heavenly violin, and Frau Joachim with her voice like a mountain torrent. An evening for the gods! and then those walks with Fräulein von Rahden, those dreams in the ruins. How they seemed to teem with life and flitting forms, with banquets and fair women. Indeed those were visions worthy of the gods! Of course wewere often wet through, but I think the rain belongs to Heidelberg as the dew to flowers. You should read the ‘Trompeter’ together, that suits there, ‘Frau Aventiure,’ and ‘Gaudeamus.’ One must become as jolly as the students, drink wine and lounge, in order to be in the right spirit for Heidelberg: then it is a magic circle, a land of dreams, such as weary wayfarers may long for. You breathe so freely in the warm damp air.”
With these bright impressions the year 1868 closed. The next year was to be one of great importance for Princess Elizabeth. But although her immediate future shaped itself in an unexpected manner, it found her prepared for it as to an object towards which the genius of her life was tending. We have interwoven many extracts of Princess Elizabeth’s letters in the course of our narrative, because a natural and unsought for likeness of her is thus developed. Her words are a picture of her inner and outer life according to the impression made upon her mind at the time. She describes the effects of what she experienced more than the causes, but these effects are not problematic states of mind, but strong and lasting impressions, which take root in a nature rich in refined feelings, and increase its wealth. And there is one theme which traverses this inner life and shows itself even there, where it is not openlymentioned—an all pervading principle, which has the strength to avoid and to overcome the two dangers which beset the life of a daughter of a Prince. One danger is that she may give herself up to the enjoyment of her exalted rank; the other that intellectual pursuits are undertaken in a dilettanti spirit and become superficial. There is only one safeguard to these two dangers, and that is duty and labour. The duty of a Prince is to rule—that is the highest form of education. Now we read in the letters of Princess Elizabeth even there, where she does not say so in so many words: “I wish to have a profession.” She meant the profession of a teacher, and she received one of a Princess and a Queen!