Part 4

“_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.”

V.

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.”