There roars from the forest
A symphony wild;
The wind drives before it
The tempest-clouds piled.
With a crash the stems sunder,
The tossing trees moan;
The wind and the thunder
Hold revel alone;
’Tis a joust which they play at,
A contest of might
Shall adjudge which is stronger
To lash the waves white,
To ravage the woodland:--
But, ’midst their mad noises,
I go with firm footstep
And soul that rejoices.
A ray beams upon me
From heart to heart ranging;
For me there is sunshine
Unclouded, unchanging.
--_Translated by Sir Edwin Arnold._
In the autumn, when the golden leaves lay thick on the ground, she
would wander for hours in the rustling foliage and listen to the sound
it made. It had a voice which spoke to her. Each ray of sunshine
which lighted up the forest or the long sweeps of country before her,
each blade of grass, light and air, birds and flowers, had a personal
meaning for her. She returned with her head full of poetic thoughts,
and wrote down what the forest, the storm, the sun, and the birds had
confided to her.
“Thou forest-scent! Thou forest-song!
Sounds, perfumes, freshly borne along,
How sweet to me you are!
How glad grow heart and ear for you!
What joy you bring, and comfort too,
Unto our little Star!”
--_Translated by Sir Edwin Arnold._
With such strains of poetry Princess Elizabeth calmed her excited
fancy. But no one was to know that she secretly wrote these little
verses. It was a deep secret which she “hid from the books on the shelf
and even the air in the room.”
“So lived I in spirit,
Lonely, my own hidden life, by none to be known of;
Never a sound, nor cloud-picture, but brought to my fancy
Matter for thought without end, and a keen-edged emotion.”
--_Translated by Sir Edwin Arnold._
It is possible that many people would have different ideas as to the
freedom that should be accorded to a Princess’s daughter from those of
the wise mother, who, looking deeper, had discovered the right way of
calming this passionate and peculiar character. “We must let her go her
own way and not disturb the working within,” she wrote to a friend at
the time. The Prince met her great spirit of contradiction on the same
principle. When his daughter insisted on having her way he used to say,
“You cannot force people to their happiness, but must let them come to
a sense of it.”
From her sixteenth year Princess Elizabeth began to write her poems
regularly in a book. The gifted child, with her restless feelings,
thoughtful and penetrating in her judgment of the world around her, now
put all her ideas and emotions into the poems which she wrote almost
involuntarily, and which now became her journal. In her fear not to
be true, she never wrote them down first, and never altered what was
written, “because she had originally thought it out in those words.”
Till her thirtieth year she had no technical knowledge of the art of
writing poetry, and did not venture to learn it for fear of betraying
herself. A time came when she thought she must despise poetry and
turn it into ridicule. Then she threw all her power into the study of
music. She played wildly on the piano! But the more she played and the
louder she sang the less contented she seemed; for the inner fire which
consumed her was not quieted; the ideal which she had before her was
not reached. “The songs sounded so weak and small instead of sighing
and rushing.” Music put her into such a state of nervous excitement
that her mother forbade her to play the piano for two years. She now
took to pencil and colours, and tried to draw and to paint. But here
she did not find satisfaction, despaired of herself and of her powers,
and thought she could never attain that which she sought with such
fervent longing.
All who then knew Princess Elizabeth are still full of the impression
of her grace and charm. Of slight figure, high colour, a quantity of
dark-brown hair, which often defied restraint, and large blue eyes,
which looked as if she were always trying to listen to and find
out something in the depths of her own soul, without being really
beautiful, her appearance was particularly attractive, because of the
spiritual expression of her features. She was then called “the Princess
of the Wild Rose” by those around her.
At this time came the long visit of Princess Sophie of Nassau, a
younger sister of the Princess of Wied, and the Countess Thekla of
Solms-Laubach, a niece of the Prince. These two young girls lived for
a whole year at Neuwied and Monrepos like daughters of the house.
Princess Sophie was engaged to be married whilst under the protection
of the princely pair. Her marriage was celebrated at Biebrich in the
summer of 1857 with the Duke of Ostgothland, the present reigning King
of Sweden.
Tutors and governesses had now left the Castle. Pastor Harder, a
clergyman from Neuwied, came daily to Princess Elizabeth to lecture
upon logic, history, and Church history. Her intercourse with this
esteemed master was very precious to her, not only on account of the
teaching which she received, but also because she had the greatest
confidence in him. When she felt herself slighted or misunderstood, she
spoke of all that she otherwise anxiously concealed from every one with
Pastor Harder during their walks. His sermons went to her heart. In her
journals we find many notes and comments which were written down by the
Princess after these sermons.
In the autumn of 1858 the princely pair made a journey of three months’
duration through Switzerland and the north of Italy. Prince Otto was
well enough to be of the party. His interest and delight in all the
beauties of nature and art were endless. The sensible questions of this
boy of eight years soon turned the attention of the guides to him;
they addressed their explanations mostly to the little Prince, who
listened with glowing interest. He was quite overcome at the sight of
the Falls of the Rhine, and began to recite “Der Taucher;” he was also
enthusiastic for human greatness, and at Milan was enchanted by the
life of Carlo Borromeo.
Prince Otto was also very witty, and often saw the comic aspect of
things, and he noticed everything, despite his tender age. He was the
pet of all who knew him. When he felt pretty well joy reigned in the
house. “From his babyhood,” writes the Prince in one of his letters,
“we have seen him growing up, that is, dying a hundred deaths, which
he, being gifted with great vital power and richly endowed by nature,
always overcame but to begin a new life of pain and distress. If one
thinks of the poor child grown up to man’s estate and troubled with
that dreadful infirmity, which he till then bore without complaint and
accepted gladly as being sent from God, one’s heart could break from
sorrow.” His mother was not only his unwearying nurse, but his nearest
friend, who shared every thought with him, and with wonderful power and
resignation comforted him with thoughts of his release.
On the 12th of March 1860 Professor Busch of Bonn had tried an
operation, which had succeeded as far as circumstances would allow,
but only brought renewed sufferings to the heroic boy. He was bound
to his couch of suffering, but his wonderful gentleness and amiability
and gloriously quiet mind never deserted him. The body of the boy was
lacerated; but the mind, with its marvellous powers, remained. None of
the sufferings of illness had been able to dull his clear judgment. His
mind, which was even here ennobled and brought to wonderful perfection,
held intercourse with those about him, as if the poor body did not
concern it.
_From a Letter of the Prince of Wied._
“A very touching and cordial friendship had existed between the
children ever since their childhood. It was therefore a great sorrow
to them when they had to separate from their eldest brother in 1879.
His parents had sent Prince William to Basle, where he studied at the
college and lived with Professor Gelzer as a child of the house, but
amidst very different surroundings from those to which he had been
accustomed.”
* * * * *
On the 29th of January Princess Elizabeth writes to her brother at
Basle:--“My studies are now making great progress, and I have as many
tasks as I can get through. Forty pages of Schlosser in a week, forty
of Macaulay, twice arithmetic, and twice geometry. More history and
literature instead of Latin and Italian, natural philosophy and Church
history, and, last not least, religion with mamma. For all these things
I have only two hours daily for preparation, of which one is taken
up with the tasks set me by mamma. I do not learn from the Catechism
usually employed. Mamma has made a Catechism of her own for me, and in
the following manner:--During the lesson she has a note-book in her
hand with more than a hundred questions in it. She puts these questions
to me, and we talk them over together; then she writes one of the
questions into my book, and I write an answer which takes up four to
six pages before the next lesson. I am sure you can understand what I
feel in having entered into the year in which I have to bind myself
with a promise before the altar to become a responsible member of human
society. I think of it with real apprehension, for I am not yet ripe
for it. Pray think of me sometimes.”
“_Monrepos, May 26th, 1860._--Those were wonderful days when Professor
Gelzer was here. I cannot tell you how interesting they were. At last
I shall become jealous of you, who have him always about you! What
conversations those were after tea, more interesting than all those of
the rest of the year put together! I was always wishing that my head
were a wax tablet, that all he had said might remain engraven upon it.”
In the summer of 1860 Princess Elizabeth was confirmed. The Princess of
Wied had already in the winter begun to prepare her child for this, and
had spoken with the Prince about all the articles of belief. Forgetting
her own sorrows, the faithful mother had often written down in the
night, beside the bed of suffering of her beloved son, Prince Otto, the
questions and comments which her daughter was to work out next morning.
When the young girl felt particularly interested in writing these
essays, it often happened that, having begun in prose, she, almost
unwillingly, finished in beautiful verse. Kirchenrath Dilthey gave her
religious instruction the last two months before her confirmation.
This was done in the open air, whilst walking to and fro with her in
the beautiful avenue of beeches. The sacred ceremony was performed
at Monrepos, and, for the purpose, the gallery was converted into a
chapel. All the sponsors of the Princess and the nearest relations of
the Houses of Wied and Nassau, as also the Empress of Germany, then
Princess of Prussia, had assembled in Monrepos for the occasion.
Her poetic journal of that time reveals a soul longing for God. In a
poem of the 15th July, shortly before her confirmation therefore, she
writes:--
“Praise ye the Lord who in mightiness wrought ye,
Praise Him who safely with blessings hath brought ye,
Praise Him, thou earth! and thou star of the sky!
Let what hath being the Lord glorify!
I will give thanks to Him, Father of Life,
I in His way will walk, faithful in strife;
I for His light will seek, guiding us all,
Him I will love, for without Him I fall.”
--_Translated by Sir Edwin Arnold._
In September 1860 she writes in her journal, “Only the deepest and
most absorbing thoughts give us clearness. Only a purely objective
reflection can bring us knowledge. To delight in undefined feelings and
dally with the images of poetry, draws our soul to the dust and hinders
the stirrings of godly power.”
Now came days and years full of sorrow. Her father was always ill,
her mother occupied in absorbing duties, the sufferings of her little
brother meanwhile increasing. During the long agony of this beloved
son, when the Princess had to give herself entirely up to nursing
him, Princess Elizabeth passed many hours in her father’s study. That
a man like the Prince of Wied, in whose mind and mode of thought,
mysticism and naturalism, romantic and rationalistic ideas were united
in a peculiar manner, should have a great influence over the mental
progress of his daughter, was very natural. Sometimes she was allowed
to work with him, to copy out for him, to read to him. Then the Prince
would ask many questions of the child, which had been raised through
reading his book “On the Unconscious Life of the Soul.” He wished
to see if she understood what he had written, and was happy in the
impression made on the mind and heart of his daughter. If she could
catch his train of thought he often said, “So now it is clear! then so
it can remain.”
Still it was but a quiet house for so lively a girl. “The bird has
outgrown its cage,” said the anxious mother. So it was settled to
accept the invitation of the Queen of Prussia, and to let Princess
Elizabeth travel to Berlin with Fraülein Lavater. We hear from a letter
to her brother what she thought of this plan.
“_Neuwied, 24th December 1860._--Oh! it is hard, very hard! the first
absence from home, the first separation from mamma. You can realise
what it is, and can understand that it is not easy, and particularly
in this case. The Princess says that she will replace mamma. But a
mother’s love cannot be replaced even by the warmest and noblest heart!
Still I know she will be all to me that she can be, and that is very
much. I well know what it means to be constantly in the society of
distinguished and clever people. But I also know what it is to take a
position which does not in reality belong to you, and to assume the
right tone and the right manner there! Oh! shall I be at all able to do
it? You can imagine in what an anxious state of tension I am, and how
all my thoughts are centred in that one point.”
Such a child of nature as this daughter of a princely house had never
appeared in Berlin before. They were not a little astonished at her.
“And I had taken the greatest pains to remain within the bounds of
etiquette in the drawing-room, and to make conversation in a sensible
manner.”
She felt most at home in the family of the Princess Hohenzollern,[2]
who was spending the winter at Berlin. When, looking back to this time
in later years, as Princess of Roumania, she wrote: “Had I only had
an idea of all this, when I so enthusiastically admired the mother at
Berlin. Or did I have a presentiment when I made friends with no one
there but with Marie, and was nowhere so happy as in her family.” She
also then shared in the studies of Princess Marie of Hohenzollern, now
Countess of Flanders. The lectures which Professor Haagen held for them
in the Museum were of particularly lively and lasting interest to her.
[2] Mother of the present King of Roumania.
It was here in Berlin that Princess Elizabeth met Prince Charles of
Hohenzollern[3] for the first time. They say that as she was, according
to her habit, rapidly jumping downstairs, she slipped on the last
step, and that Prince Charles was able to prevent her from falling by
catching her in his arms.
[3] Present King of Roumania.
_From a letter of Prince Herman to his Daughter at Berlin._
“NEUWIED, _23rd February 1861_.
“It appears to me that you have seen and experienced much that is
interesting if you review the variety of pictures which have passed
before you during these last days. You can only learn an easy and
versatile intercourse with people by constantly meeting different
ones, for each has to be taken in a different way, according to his
peculiarities. Goethe regards it as a proof of dulness, not cleverness,
if one is bored in the society of others. He declares that we can learn
from the most commonplace people, were it only not to be like them!
You are a recruit in aristocratic ranks, and not the slightest failing
must be detected in you. At Court you must learn the balancing step
so that you may not lose your balance and fall downstairs, or morally
stumble and upset. In youth all this is learnt in play, whereas it is
a martyrdom to elderly people. But where one is gifted, as you are,
with an endless source of internal happiness, all disagreeables which
one experiences are but as a fleeting shadow over the sunshine of life.
Since you went away joy has departed from this house! The gay little
bird has flown, and is now fluttering from flower to flower. Sometimes
it pricks itself with their thorns, but it flies on, careless of what
is behind it. Still it avoids the thorns in future. Now, good-bye; may
God bless you, you dear little runaway.”
* * * * *
Notwithstanding all the kindness and amiability with which Queen
Augusta and the Royal Family surrounded the charming girl, and the
treasures of art of all kinds that Berlin offered to her, she longed to
be back in her father’s house, in the quiet sick-room, in the freedom
of the Forest and near the mighty Rhine. In her journal of this time
are mainly poems which are full of these longings. The wild-rose could
not feel at home in the large town, and on her return she fell into
the arms of her mother with sobs of joy.
Prince William had already been for two years at Basle. During this
whole time he had not come to Neuwied or seen any of his family.
Princess Elizabeth thanks him for the letter she had received in
Berlin, and writes as follows on her return to Neuwied:--
“_Neuwied, 29th March 1861._--Your letter was, in many respects,
a great pleasure to me. It gave me the feeling that we understand
one another and do not lose the thread of each other’s lives
notwithstanding the separation, which seems to me now very long and
hard to bear. Yet we shall meet again this year. Just fancy! We
shall meet again, and shall both be much changed, I should think?
The same and yet much altered. I think we have developed and become
more serious. A new life has sprung up in us, and each will meet the
other conscious of his own peculiarities. We were children till now,
and lived together and near one another without a thought of anything
higher. We parted with heavy hearts, but we had no higher interests
in common. Now we shall meet as a young man and woman! Serious
thoughts have awakened in us, and we feel that the gay and careless
life has ended, and a life of duty has begun. We have both become
more serious--not sad, that is quite another thing--and have both had
varied experiences this winter. I have realised that I must become
quite different to what I am, notwithstanding my firm will and true
faith, and that all trouble and care bestowed upon me only led to fresh
difficulties. Those are sad experiences which rob one of one’s courage,
especially if one is a weak girl. And I did lose courage, particularly
when all in the house were ill again.
“Then came the journey to Berlin, and my stay there! Certainly these
six weeks were not easy, often very difficult. Yet it was a wonderful
time. Rich in all sorts of experiences. They were all very kind and
amiable, every one helped me in my embarrassment, and understood that
I must be homesick, and yet I felt lonely, dreadfully lonely! It is
really a painful feeling which takes possession of one when one is away
from home. A boy must feel it less, for he likes to see new places and
to try his wings and see if they are strong. But a girl cannot stand
alone. Often I was very cheerful. I was almost always the merriest of
the girls, but when I had been the gayest, home-sickness overcame me
most, for I then felt the void to be greater! Still it was very good
for me. I have now realised what duties I have to perform, and have
returned with the resolve to accomplish them unflinchingly--those are
my reflections about Berlin!”
Soon after this, in the year 1861, Professor Busch came to Neuwied for
a consultation. His decision was most affecting. Not only did the state
of the little Prince seem hopeless, but the health of the Prince of
Wied gave rise to the greatest anxiety. Neither could recover; it was
only a question of time.
_Princess Elizabeth to her Brother at Basle._
“MONREPOS, _13th June 1861_.
“It is not at all easy to keep physically and mentally fresh and
bright, and yet it is my duty! It is my duty towards myself that I may
not flag, and it is a duty towards our invalids to try and enliven
them; it is also my duty towards mamma that everything may not weigh
upon her. I have much that refreshes me now. My white pony, which I
love and which loves me, and which I ride every day. I always say that
it suits me particularly, for when it is fresh it kicks and often jumps
with its four legs off the ground at once. It is a mad little thing!
It has many names, ‘Schimmel, Selim, Minsmuns, Herr Consistorialrath,
Garibaldi’--this reminds me of a real Garibaldi in Italy. I am sure you
are glad Italy is free. But the death of Cavour is dreadful. It came
upon us like a thunderclap. One cannot understand how the machine is
to remain in motion without him, as no one appears so considerate, so
clever, or so powerful as he. I think that even his enemies must admit
what a wonderful man he was!
We live in a remarkable time, which must interest us. And yet it
interests me more when Pastor Harder tells me of past history than as
now of the years 1815-1820. My studies are a great refreshment to me.”
* * * * *
In June the family moved up to Monrepos. Prince Otto’s sufferings
increased from month to month. For nearly a year he bore the acutest
pain, fully realising that he must die soon. His mother had tried to
make his approaching death easy by telling of the Redeemer and heavenly
happiness. With all the powers of his loving nature and noble mind,
this boy constantly endeavoured to prevent others suffering from his
illness. “Till his last day he was unceasingly trying to improve his
heart and mind.”
On the 17th of October 1861 Princess Elizabeth writes to Prince
William at Basle:--“You should soon write to Ottoli, and send him your
photograph if possible. What comes from you has ever a peculiar charm
for him. All that you do and say is right in his eyes. We often say
something against you in fun, just to see the eagerness with which he
defends you. You are his ideal. We are for ever talking of you. We can
never tire of this subject, for only now that you are absent we have
discovered how we love you. Otto’s love to us is deeper and stronger
than ever, such as I have never experienced in any one in good health.
There is a marvellous charm in those great serious eyes which appear
to triumph over the miseries of the body. I know that you have lived
through all this time with us, and share the heavy burden as well as
the rich blessing. It is a wonderful experience! All seems so trivial
now. All that people say and do seems so small and of so little
importance when God Himself speaks to us.”
“_Monrepos, 7th November 1861._--This time of trial binds us closer to
one another. It is remarkable that I love every one more than I did
before. I love God more, and this makes my love to other people deeper.
My heart seems so enlarged that it longs to enfold the whole world.
You see that I must now keep all these feelings to myself in order to
be outwardly calm, and, should all this boil within me, quietly and
steadily fulfil all my duties.”
On the 18th of October 1861 we find a little poem written in the
Princess’s journal, “The Sick-room” is its title:--
“Only sorrow, thou thinkest, we find in the place
Where the sick lie in pain.
Ah, no; there is often of sorrow no trace;
True peace there doth reign.”
_“Monrepos, 14th December 1861._--God is now leading me by a way which
I had not expected. The whole year, now soon to end, has been a sad one!
“But this Christmas is to be particularly celebrated, as it is the last
which we shall have together! You cannot fancy how anxious papa makes
us now. He is very weak and coughs almost incessantly. Pastor Harder
remarked lately how good and gentle he was, as if he were for ever
taking leave of us. The idea is so dreadful that I am always trying to
get rid of it. I long to hold him in every glance and each embrace, for
I love him as never before!
“I am with him from nine till one of a morning now. He gives me lessons
in painting, which are an indescribable pleasure to me. My playing is
also a great resource to him. Do you realise what a pleasure this is,
though a melancholy pleasure! You really must feel and experience it
with me. So my life now belongs entirely to my father. I am always
about him, or occupied with him, reading, painting, playing, or walking
up and down. All trivialities disappear before the imposing thought of
having to minister to two dying people with the self-sacrificing power
of love.”
“_31st of December._--We do not know how early or how late papa and
Otto may be taken from us, but we will be prepared that we may be able
to sustain mamma with the strength of our youth, that she may really
lean upon us, and that, after her dreadful trials, we may smooth and
enlarge the way before her, that she may rest at last! Let us now
wrestle and strive and pray with all our might, that we may give back
to her all she did for us. I long to help mamma to bear the heavy
burden, and I should love to give myself up to her entirely with
all that I am and all that I have, and yet I cannot do it! I cannot
measure her sorrow, but I hope that what I can and should do will be
put into my heart, and then we will all be thankful for this time of
trial! You can do this at a distance as well as here. Distance makes no
difference, and God will show it you. You must ripen to manhood early,
and be firm, energetic, and true. Then you will be very much to me, and
the dream of my childhood that we should be all in all to one another
will be fulfilled!
“YOUR LITTLE SISTER.”
In January 1862 the Prince of Wied became so dangerously ill that he
could not leave his bed. Princess Elizabeth nursed her father, whose
sufferings were added to by increasing deafness. The mother sat day and
night by the couch of her courageous son, who was so strong in faith,
and saw her child slowly dying, under the most dreadful sufferings.
Prince Otto had an ardent wish to see his beloved brother William once
more. A telegram was sent to Basle. But the answer was that the Prince
had the measles and could not travel. At first the Princess did not
dare to communicate this answer to Prince Otto. But in the night he
asked again after his brother, and had to learn the truth. He cried
out: “My William! My William, is he to be taken from me too?” After
that he was quiet and said, “If it is not to be, it is well.” And then
he kept repeating, “Send him my blessing.”
On the 16th February 1862 Prince Otto was released from his life of
suffering. “More than we can bear is not sent to us” he had often said,
“and when we can bear no longer, the end comes and we are blessed in
Heaven.” He died in full consciousness. An expression of rest and peace
came over the beautiful countenance. The mouth had a sweet smile.
Only the deep mark on the high forehead showed that he had obtained
this peace through great suffering and strife. “Thank God, and God be
praised for ever” were the words uttered by the agonised mother over
the little body. “And God be praised” was the prayer repeated after her
by the father, the brother and sister and friends and relations far
and near. By all indeed who had loved and admired the gifted child.
Kirchenrath Dilthey, from Neuwied, who had confirmed and married the
Princess of Wied, and had confirmed Princess Elizabeth, undertook the
ceremony of blessing the body, and preached from the following words in
the Book of Wisdom iv. 13, 14: “He being made perfect in a short time,
fulfilled a long time: for his soul pleased the Lord, therefore hasted
He to take him away from among the wicked.”
_Extract from a letter from the Prince of Wied._
“According to his wish, Prince Otto was buried on a hill not far from
Monrepos, under the shade of high lime trees. His memory will be
glorified in our recollections, and this holy memory, this communion
with the dead, is all that remains to us. An incorruptible legacy,
which makes us rich, notwithstanding our endless loss.”
* * * * *
The grief of the family at the death of this son was so deep that
it was ever present and endless. It was not till fourteen years
afterwards that Princess Elizabeth could try to write down the sad
experience of this time. The Princess of Wied has not yet been able to
read this little book which, written with the most touching simplicity,
is privately printed, and bears the title, “Life of my brother, Otto
Nicholas of Wied.”
[Illustration]