QUEEN LOUISA AND THE CHILDREN.
BY MARY STUART SMITH.
QUEEN LOUISA of Prussia was the mother of William I., Emperor of Germany, and although she has been dead over sixty years her one hundredth birthday was celebrated elaborately throughout her son’s dominions, with almost as many rejoicings as we made here over the one hundredth birthday of these United States.
When a child Louisa was very beautiful, and as she grew up did not disappoint the promise of those early days.
She was married to Frederick William, Crown Prince of Prussia, when only seventeen years of age, and brought down upon herself a sharp rebuke from the proud mistress of ceremonies for the love she showed to a little child as she was making her public entry into Berlin, preparatory to the solmnization of her marriage. It happened thus:
The streets were thronged with people who had come to catch a glimpse of the fair young bride, while every now and then select persons would step forward and present complimentary poems of welcome, or some pretty gift. A sweet little girl advanced to give the queen a bunch of flowers, and Louisa was so struck with the child’s loveliness that she stooped down and kissed her on the forehead. “Mein Gott!” exclaimed the horrified mistress of ceremonies. “What has your majesty done?” Louisa was as artless and simple as a child herself. “What?” said she, “is that wrong? Must I never do so again?”
But the prince, her husband, was no fonder of show and ceremony than herself, and asserted manfully the right of his wife and himself to act like other affectionate people, in spite of being king and queen.
QUEEN LOUISA.
This royal pair had eight children, and upon these children was lavished every care and attention. It is said that every night the king and queen went together to visit their sleeping children after they had been put into their little beds, and many a time were they surprised by a bright pair of wide-awake eyes smiling back upon them a look of love in return. Queen Louisa used to say, “The children’s world is my world,” nor were the little creatures slow to reciprocate the love she gave.
You know Christmas is observed in Germany with peculiar reverence, and is a season set apart for mirthful recreation among all classes, but more especially for the enjoyment of children. Berlin is gay with Christmas trees and a brilliant array of toys etc., for at least a week beforehand.
Like other parents the king and queen found delight in preparing pleasant surprises for their little ones. While engaged in choosing presents for them, on one occasion they entered a top-shop where a citizen’s wife was busy making purchases, but recognizing the new-comers she bowed respectfully and retired. The queen addressed her in her peculiarly winning way and sweet voice. “Stop, dear lady, what will the stall-keeper say if we drive away his customers?” She then inquired if the lady had come to buy toys for her children, and asked how many little ones she had. Hearing there was a son about the age of the Crown Prince, the queen bought some toys and gave them to the mother, saying, “Take them, dear lady, and give them to your crown prince in the name of mine.”
But I must tell you a yet prettier story, showing the queen’s fondness for making children happy.
There lived in Berlin a father and mother, who from some cause were so poor, and low-spirited besides, that when the holiday came which all children love best, they quietly resigned themselves to having nothing to give their little ones. What can be more sad than a house which no Kriss Kringle visits? Just think of it! They told their children that there was to be no Christmas tree for them this year. The little boy and his sister had been led to believe that the Christ-kind or Christ-child provides the tree and the gifts which are placed on tables round it; only ornaments, sweets and tapers are hung upon the branches. Under this disappointment the children, in the innocent simplicity of their faith, sought the aid of the good Christ-kind in their own way.
Christmas Eve came, and the poor troubled parents looked on with wonder as they beheld their children hopping and skipping about with joy, although they were to be the only children for whom no Christmas tree would be lighted, nor pretty gifts provided. Still in high spirits they watched at the window, and clapped their hands when the door-bell rang, exclaiming: “Here it comes!” The door was opened and a man-servant appeared, laden with a gay tree and several packets, each addressed to some member of the family.
“There must be some mistake!” said the mother.
“No, no!” cried the boy, “it is all right. I wrote to the good Christ-kind, and told him what we wanted, and that you could not buy anything this year.”
The parents enjoyed the evening with their children and afterwards unravelled the mystery. The postmaster, astonished by a letter evidently written by a very young scribe and addressed to the Christ-kind, had sent it to the palace with a respectful inquiry as to what should be done with a letter so strangely directed. Queen Louisa read it and, as a handmaid of the Christ-kind, she answered his little children.[1]
[1] Mrs. Hudson’s Life of Queen Louisa.
Louisa’s sympathies were ever ready to flow for the sorrows of childhood, which so many grown people will not stoop to even notice.
One day as the king and queen were entering a town, a band of young girls came forward to strew flowers and to present a nosegay. Her majesty inquired how many little girls there were. “Nineteen,” replied the artless child; “there would have been twenty of us but one was sent back home because she was too ugly.”
The kind queen feeling for the child’s mortification sent for her and requested that she might by all means be allowed to join in the festivities of the day.
Nor did Louisa slight the boys.
She was one day walking in the streets of Charlottenburg, attended by a lady-in-waiting; a number of boys were running and tumbling and playing somewhat rudely, and one of them ran up against the queen. Her lady reproved him sharply, and the little fellow looked frightened and abashed. The queen patted his rosy cheek, saying: “Boys will be a little wild; never mind, my dear boy, I am not angry.” She then asked his name and bade him give her compliments to his mother. The child knew who the lady was, and besides having the pleasant memory of her gracious speech and looks received a lesson in politeness which he never forgot.
Sometimes the royal children were allowed to have a party, and this indulgence young princes and princesses enjoy just as much as other juveniles. A queer anecdote is told of the only daughter of the famous Madame de Stael, in relation to one of these entertainments.
The little lady was about ten years of age, but had already imbibed many opinions and prejudices. At all events she had a high idea of her own importance, and was totally wanting in respect for her superiors in rank. She was apt to be very rude in her manners and in her remarks. On this occasion she took offence at something which the little Crown Prince said or did to her, and very coolly gave him a sharp box on the ear, upon which he ran crying to his mother and hid his face in the folds of her dress. As mademoiselle, when remonstrated with, showed not a particle of concern, and refused to say she was sorry, she was not invited again, and her learned mamma found that she must keep her daughter at home until she taught her better manners.[2]
[2] Sir George Jackson.
The annual fair at Paretz, the king’s beloved country home, took place during the merry harvest-time. A number of booths were then put up near the village, and besides buying and selling there was a great deal or dancing and singing going on, and all sorts of games and sports. It was then that the wheel of fortune was turned for the children’s lottery. Lots of cakes and fruit were set round in order, which were given away according to the movements of a pointer, turned by the wheel.
Queen Louisa encouraged the children to crowd around her on these occasions; she could not bear to see them afraid of her, and placed herself beside the wheel, in order to secure fair play and to watch carefully that she might make some amends for the unkindness of fortune. She had her own ample store of good things which she dispensed among the unlucky children, many of whom thought more of the sweet words and looks of the queen than of anything else she could give them. Moreover she was glad to have a chance of leading even one of her little subjects to be generous and self-denying. For, while she liked to see them all happy, she at the same time interested herself in giving pleasantly little hints as to conduct that might be of lasting benefit.
All her life Queen Louisa watched beside the wheel in a higher sense. She overlooked the whole circle of which she was the centre, anxiously seeking to hold out a helping hand to any whom she saw likely to be ruined by losses in the great lottery of real life.
Is it matter for wonder then that German children still cherish her memory, and delight to place flowers upon vase or tomb that bears her name?
