Travels.
The Palace at Neuwied now became lonely and dreary. Immediately
after the funeral of Prince Otto, the princely pair had left for
Baden-Baden with Princess Elizabeth. They did not return till the
summer, and, as usual, went to live on the heights of Monrepos. The
landscape lay stretched out before them in the full glory of summer;
the birds chirped and sang in the beech-woods; on the hills, under
the lime-trees, everything was awakened to new life, and pointed to
a future where sorrows and partings are no more. Many months passed
before a monument could be placed over the grave. But Princess
Elizabeth took care that it was not without its adornment. Every
morning before six she mounted the hill, and with the flowers which
were sent from Neuwied to Monrepos every evening, she transformed the
resting-place of her brother into a carpet of flowers. Often she knelt
for hours under the dome formed by the limes in order to arrange the
leaves and flowers very artistically. The silence about her was only
disturbed by the hum of the bees and the solemn sound of the church
bells, which reached her on the height from the valley below. For
eleven years Prince Otto had been the centre of all love and care.
After this season of sorrow and suffering it was necessary again to
recover strength to begin life afresh by means of active work.
With all the powers of her eager nature Princess Elizabeth now threw
herself into teaching. At that time a Baroness Bibra was living at a
farm near, with her two little nieces. A lame boy, Rudolf Wackernagel,
had been taken in at the Castle on account of his weak health. With
these three children the young Princess had arranged a school. She
displayed so much patience, perseverance, and talent for imparting
knowledge, that her mother watched her work with quiet contentment. She
brought the little Wackernagel on so well that he took a good place in
the College at Basle. Her time was fully occupied. She gave lessons for
three hours; for three hours she was allowed to read to her father and
rejoice in his presence; for four or five hours she practised on the
piano. This irresistible craving for occupation, which was to set free
her inner feelings and lighten her sorrow for her brother, seemed too
great a mental strain for so young a creature. But Princess Elizabeth
bore up against it with great cheerfulness, and writes to her brother:--
“_Monrepos, 29th January 1862._--I am so happy because the child loves
me and likes to be with me. A short time ago I said that I had a
vocation for teaching, and would willingly become a governess, and now
this duty thrusts itself suddenly and unexpectedly upon me, with the
anxious question, ‘Are you capable of teaching and training a child?
Are you sufficiently in sympathy with him to understand his nature,
and yet to treat him consistently?’ I regard this new duty in a very
serious light, and take great pains with the lessons, which are a great
pleasure to me, for the little boy is so very lively and intelligent.”
“_Monrepos, 10th August 1862._--Generally ‘Rudi’ is very eager to
learn, and when he is not I make a cross face; then he gets red and
his thoughts are concentrated again. It is naturally my greatest wish
to fulfil this arduous and yet to me so dear a duty in such a manner
that I may build a good and firm foundation for coming years, for
I know only too well how much harm can be done if the elements are
badly taught. Oh! condition of a governess. You never found such a
representative before. Respect comes of itself, learning goes like
bread and butter, and the whole world is a bagpipe. Who can plague
themselves for ever? It is good to be merry sometimes. All goes
successfully; love is there too, and so one lives in Elysium. Joy,
lovely spark of the gods--but here I remember the musical _fête_ at
Cologne. How heavenly it was! You cannot have the least idea of it! To
hear the Ninth Symphony of Beethoven with a chorus at the end--
‘Spark from the fire that gods have fed,
Joy--thou Elysian child divine,
Fire-drunk, our airy footsteps tread,
O Holy One! thy holy shrine.’
Words cannot convey it, and I cannot describe it to you. Child of
man, it was divine! When I think of it I seem to be lost in endless
space, for melodies and harmonies rush upon me, which can make the most
unfeeling tremble and raise the soul to God. I should like to fall
on my knees and give thanks that some of us human beings have been
chosen to divine God. Yes, we may often appear wretched and miserable,
and might almost be ashamed to belong to that worm, mankind; still,
there are moments in this life when we may feel ourselves great and
blissfully exclaim, ‘Heavenly Father, we draw nigh to Thee; we are Thy
children!’ Good-bye now, thou child of God, thou man, who, with the
full strength of his youth, must be answerable for his actions, and is
also to endeavour to attain to the god-head. Oh! be strong, feel the
divine spark tremble within you, and strive to follow the flame with
the full power of heavenly inspiration!--I remain firm at your side,
with my warmest love,
“YOUR LITTLE SISTER.”
The state of health of the Prince of Wied necessitated another sojourn
in Baden-Baden. There the winter of 1862-1863 was passed. In order to
introduce Princess Elizabeth to society their house was opened to a
larger circle.
_To her Brother._
“BADEN, _23rd November 1862_.
“We are now going to keep open house on Mondays; not regular soirees
by invitations, which are always stiff, but we have once for all told
the people we know that we are at home on Monday evenings from eight
o’clock, so that whoever likes may come. I think that will be charming!
At mamma’s side, and as daughter of the house, I shall learn how to
associate with people, to entertain them, and to be amiable. I am
looking forward to it very much.”
* * * * *
Princess Elizabeth’s first ball was at the Court of Carlsruhe, but she
found no real pleasure in such amusements. Her beloved friend, Marie
von Bibra, lay on her deathbed. “My heart seemed torn! My brother
had died within the year; my friend was struggling with death. And
then people were surprised at my being serious and philosophising.”
At that time she drove twice a week to the Grand Duchess of Baden at
Carlsruhe, to take lessons on the piano from Kalliwoda, and she learned
flower-painting from Frau Schoedter. During this time in Baden-Baden
there must have been a question of marriages for the Princess, for
there is a poem in her journal which ends with these verses:--
A maiden wise would liever
Live free for evermore,
Since, once herself to promise
Brings pain and peril sore.
Only the love that’s deepest
Gives gladness, gives content;
When true love does not touch her
Her looks aside are bent.
And happy is that maiden
At home, unterrified;
With glances shy she gazes
On the great world outside.
BADEN, _23rd December 1862_.
_Translated by Sir Edwin Arnold._
On the 20th of February 1863 Marie von Bibra had died, “quietly and
gently as she had lived.” Elizabeth wrote many poems at that time
entitled “On Sorrow,” her tears flowing fast the while.
_To her Brother._
“BADEN, _21st March 1863_.
“It certainly is a good thing that we first learnt to know the serious
side of life, for now we do not long for or expect anything of it, but
only think of that which we have to do. I, for my part, expect much
sorrow and many tears; they came to me early, and it probably will
continue to be so. One loved one after the other is taken away. Each
year demands its sacrifice! At how many graves shall I have to stand
till I am old? I do not think that I shall die early. I feel much power
in me and an intense longing for work. I only wish to fill my little
place, to accomplish my humble duties, so that, when I die, I may not
feel that I have lived in vain. The feeling of having work to do is so
pleasant to me; I do not think I could be happy without it. To have
stern duties which occupy one from morning till night is the greatest
happiness.
“At my Confirmation I felt so strong that no struggle seemed too hard.
I thought I could do everything. Since then I have done nothing, and
have only had to suffer, which I did not at all expect. I have become
much quieter now. I can sit still and think of the dear departed ones,
whilst I never could rest for a moment before. Happily I have not much
time for thinking. When I have taught for three hours and practised
four hours, I have to entertain papa and mamma in the evening. We read
after tea. Lately we read ‘Fiesco.’ Now I am reading ‘Tasso’ aloud,
but I do not think it so beautiful as ‘Iphigenia.’ The language is
beautiful--quite Goethe.”
* * * * *
Professor Geltzer with his family and Prince William were expected on
a visit to the princely family at Baden-Baden, and Princess Elizabeth
writes to her brother:--
“_Baden, 10th April 1863._--Ten people who love one another together!
What love will glow from every eye! Pray, dear, try to get them all to
come. Mamma and I are talking about it all day. I am quite confused
with joy! Only three more days and then we shall be together and all
in all to each other. Oh! with my whole heart and with the deepest
love I will hang about you, my pride, my joy, the support on which I
will lean, when you are morally strong and firm. Only realise how I
love you, so passionately, and yet my love is so deep and still in the
holiest corner of my heart. Yes, there you are enshrined, my brother
and my friend. The stronger and firmer you are, the deeper is my love.
“YOUR LITTLE SISTER.”
When they returned to Monrepos in the spring, Marie’s gentle words
could no longer quiet the restless spirit, and the want of this
faithful friend lay heavy on the life and soul of the young Princess.
The arrival of the Grand Duchess Hélène of Russia, who came to Monrepos
on a visit this summer, seemed to her like a ray of sunshine. She was
a near relation of the Princess of Wied, and sister of the Duchess
Pauline of Nassau, the much-honoured stepmother of the Princess. The
Grand Duchess was much attracted by the simple and natural manner of
the Princess Elizabeth; she was also pleased with her thorough learning
and her original thoughts. It was a wish of the Grand Duchess to take
the charming girl with her on her travels, to which her parents did not
object. Elizabeth rejoiced at the news, for a great love and admiration
for her distinguished aunt had taken her heart by storm, and she was
more than happy to see the world under the auspices of this remarkable
woman.
So she travelled with the Grand Duchess Hélène to the Lake of Geneva
in the autumn of 1863, where they lived in Ouchy, at the Hôtel
Beaurivage. These were happy weeks; it was the first _dolce far niente_
which the Princess had known, the first time that she was among utter
strangers. Wherever the Grand Duchess settled, she was soon surrounded
by a circle of interesting people. Our young Princess was quite carried
away by this talented society, the magnificence of nature around her,
and the excursions on the blue lake and in the surrounding valleys.
Intense in her joys as in her sorrows, she felt herself, as she then
said, “like a bird freed from its cage.”
On the 21st of October 1863 she writes to her mother from
Beaurivage:--“I never thought that one could enjoy such a long time
without a cloud to hide the sunshine for one day. I wish I could return
with my pockets full of sunshine and warm you up. I am daily thrown
with distinguished people--as if I did not have that at home too!--but
their talent shows itself in a different manner, and I pay more
attention to it. There is no stiffness in our society, but it is always
aristocratic. The witty sayings of cultivated people are so pleasant
to hear. I love my aunt more every day; I am happy to be near her, and
when she is in the room I only think of her! And, do you know, I like
to be grateful; it is a warm feeling.”
Princess Elizabeth had always exercised an irresistible fascination
on all that came near her by the grace and charm of her mind. But her
young niece became so beloved and so necessary to the Grand Duchess
that she entreated her parents to allow her to accompany her to St.
Petersburg for the winter. The Princess of Wied answered, “All the
sacrifices which it costs her parents to be separated from so beloved a
daughter must disappear before the advantages which such a time would
offer our child.” A short stay was made at Wiesbaden on the way to St.
Petersburg in order to take leave of her parents. Princess Elizabeth
was not to see her father again! It was a separation for life! As the
Prince was gazing after her, when she was gone, he remarked to his
wife, “There she goes, in her simplicity, and I am quite sure she
will return to us as simple as she leaves us.” These words were to
be entirely realised. Professor Knauss sketched a portrait of her at
Berlin; then they went north without stopping.
St. Petersburg as a town did not make a great impression on her.
“The similarity and uniformity of the masses of houses destroy the
proportions,” she writes to her mother. The agreeable young Princess
was cordially welcomed by the Emperor Alexander II. and the whole
Imperial family: “_Tout le monde est sous son charme_,” the Grand
Duchess Alexandra Josephanna wrote to the Princess of Wied. She had
found her nearest relations in the family of Prince Peter of Oldenburg,
for his wife, Princess Thérèse, who was a Princess of Nassau, was
her mother’s sister. She met the young Princesses of Oldenburg and
Leuchtenberg almost daily. Yet with all this, an extraordinary shyness
had taken hold of Princess Elizabeth. An expression of painful
embarrassment overspread her expressive features. The unconstrained
manner which had so delighted every one at Ouchy had disappeared. She
felt strange in her new and brilliant surroundings. The grandeur of
life at St. Petersburg, with its ceaseless dinners, balls, and other
entertainments, tired and seemed to dazzle her. Her imagination was
much excited by all these new impressions, but her nerves suffered
under them. To calm this restless spirit, the Grand Duchess had
arranged a regular plan for the day, and had instituted Shakespeare
evenings with the Princesses of Oldenburg and Leuchtenberg, at which
the parts were divided and read in the original English.
At that time the Grand Duchess Hélène wrote to the Princess of
Wied:--“Elizabeth makes a sympathetic impression on all at St.
Petersburg. Her open and cheerful glance refreshes those that are worn
and weary, and youth becomes more joyous in her company. Her day is
filled up with music, reading, the study of Russian, and the time she
spends with me. I have also entreated her always to have a good book
in reading. To heighten her interest and get her to work herself, I
advised her to write out parts and make comments upon it for you. Be
it here or in another centre of the great world, we must remember that
we deteriorate, if we do not try to get away from the frivolity that
surrounds us by serious thinking and reading.”
Let us hear Princess Elizabeth describe her life in the Northern
capital in her own words:--
_To her Brother._
“ST. PETERSBURG, _2nd December 1863_.
“After one has seen London and Paris, St. Petersburg does not make
a great impression upon one. Palaces never impress me, and we also
have carpets and silk furniture. Still, there are great dimensions
in everything here, and that is agreeable. The only palace which I
think pleasant to live in is the one I inhabit. I spend almost all my
time in two dear rooms. Either in the library, where I read Ranke’s
English History and the _South German Newspaper_ till eleven o’clock
every morning, or I am in my bedroom, which is hardly larger than
our rooms in Monrepos. As I have a dressing-room next door, this is
really my little sanctum and boudoir, in which I keep all my pictures
and keepsakes. Next to this room is another, in which there is one of
Erard’s grand pianos and a harmonium. There I practise for two hours
every day. On Mondays and Thursdays I am in the Museum from one to
three, and have drawing-lessons from models. On Tuesdays, Thursdays,
and Saturdays, from half-past twelve to half-past one, I learn Russian.
On Sundays (but that will be altered) I have a music-lesson from--you
will see I am a most fortunate being--from Rubinstein! Dinner is at
six. The evenings vary much. On Mondays is the Opera. On Tuesdays,
Eugenia von Leuchtenberg (a cousin of Uncle Oscar’s), Thecla (Princess
of Oldenburg), and some other girls and I meet, and we read Shakespeare
(a family Shakespeare naturally), each taking a character. Yesterday
we read ‘King Lear.’ That is magnificent! To-day I went to a school to
hear a most interesting lecture on Chateaubriand. I spend many evenings
with my aunt, and often I have one lady or another to tea with me.
Sometimes there is a concert on a Thursday. Oh! it really is wonderful
how these people play! Lately I heard a piece from ‘Orpheus’ by Glück,
and the Symphony in A Minor by Mendelssohn. I was in such raptures
that I did not seem to belong to this world. Interesting people often
come to dinner, but never more than three or four. You can fancy how
pleasant it is. The other day the old natural historian, Baer, came--a
very distinguished and amiable German. My heart seemed to beat loud
when he spoke of Holstein and Prussia. I get quite excited when I think
of it, for, you must know, I silently glow for Schleswig-Holstein here.
My aunt is very good to me, and I am daily becoming more attached to
Fräulein Rahden. She is quite a mother to me, and that is what I long
for more and more, and often so deeply. Still, I am really happy here.
I rest myself, and am really very well. I usually go to bed at midnight
and get up at cock-crow, but that only takes place after eight o’clock.”
* * * * *
At the beginning of this time, Anton Rubinstein had undertaken her
musical education. When the Princess was expecting him, a great
excitement took possession of her, which almost took away her breath.
She looked up to her master with such veneration that she lost all
courage in the consciousness of her own small talent. She says about
Rubinstein’s playing:--“It was as if the piano disappeared under his
power; then again as if it were the music of the spheres, or a lovely
fairy tale. His playing has a delicacy and a poetry which are really
fascinating. His genius is displayed in the fact that the power and
brilliancy of his playing seem but accessories, or are so grand that
one is cowed before them as by a wonder of nature, and yet would like
to sing in the intensity of joy. I never heard anything like it. His
playing has a magic spell which seems to me like the bloom on a grape
or the dew on the flowers. They render them twice as beautiful.”
Of all the enjoyments which were offered to her in St. Petersburg, the
most deep and lasting impression was made upon her by the performance
of the Court singers. She was quite overcome by the artistic rendering,
and the wonderful harmony of their songs, in the celebrated concerts
led by Livow, as well as during the service in the chapel of the Winter
Palace.
Christmas-time brought unexpected happiness. Prince Nicholas of Nassau
had arrived. He also lived in the Palais Michel as the guest of his
aunt, the Grand Duchess Hélène. Part of her German home seemed to have
arrived in St. Petersburg with the appearance of this beloved uncle,
and in the daily intercourse with him, for he had often spent months in
the house of her parents from her childhood upward.
[Illustration:
_Woodbury Compy._