The day of the Princess begins with breakfast at half-past seven, excepting on Sundays and at holiday times, when she takes it at nine with her parents and brother. Never was there any child who galloped through the first meal of the day with such reckless rapidity. In vain did I inveigh against this habit of bolting food, and dwell on the horrors, the least of which must be an incurable red nose, which invariably lie in wait for those thoughtless persons who ignore the duty of mastication; in vain did I quote Mr. Gladstone’s dictum on the subject, which, though it amused and interested her, in no way led to her betterment.
“At fifty, nay at forty—or even sooner, Princess,” I would say, “you will be a hopeless martyr to an outraged internal system. Look at Carlyle, the man who wrote about Frederick the Great. His whole life was made bitter, the happiness of his wife destroyed, his manners and temper spoiled, just because as a little boy——”
At this point she usually flung down her knife and fork with a clatter, and, the last mouthful still unconsumed, at her accustomed whirlwind pace, quite unperturbed at what might happen at forty, departed to her mother the Empress, who always liked to see her daughter before lessons began.
At two minutes to eight she returned breathlessly—she was always breathless in those early days—to the schoolroom, a rather dull, stately apartment, with oil-paintings of Prussian Queens and Electresses of Brandenburg decorating the walls. In their stiff brocade dresses they gazed out of their gold frames with simpering fixity at the two large blackboards, the schooldesk, the lesson-and exercise-books neatly piled on the two plain deal tables.
Her footman, an elderly, conscientious, invaluable servant of boundless tact and experience, and of the greatest assistance in those difficult early days, would give a glance round to see that everything was there—clean dusters, chalk, sponge and water. The lady on duty—myself or the Ober-Gouvernante—would be installed with book or needlework in the least obtrusive corner, trying to look absolutely absorbed in her own thoughts, for the tutor naturally desired and had a right to demand deep concentration on the part of his pupil and the elimination of all possibilities of distraction. So that when the location of the schoolroom had to be changed to the other side of the Hof, where the carriages arrived bringing gentlemen for audiences with the Emperor, studies were often pursued in semi-twilight, the blinds being kept permanently down to shut out as much as possible of the sights and sounds of the outside world. Sometimes a gentle knock came at the door, which opened, revealing the smilingly-apologetic face of the Empress. She would slip in and take the place of the lady and pursue her work, while listening to the lesson. These incursions of Her Majesty were not always regarded favourably by the tutor, who feared that they distracted the Princess and made her less attentive.
Some months before she reached her tenth year the little Princess had a young resident tutor, who was provided with rooms in the Palace and shared some of the duties of Prince Joachim’s governor, accompanying the two children and the lady “on duty” in their afternoon walks. Prince Joachim’s own tutor, the one who had been in Homburg, was a married Professor living in Berlin, a very clever man, who afterwards, on the Prince’s departure for Ploen, became tutor to the Princess, journeying daily backwards and forwards to Berlin.
German educational methods are astonishingly thorough, and make serious demands upon a growing child’s brain and capacity. It is difficult to know whether to condemn or admire them most. They are so thoroughly efficient—given a child who can stand the strain; but what of the thousands who cannot? I suppose every civilized nation, not excepting England, is or has been guilty in this respect; and the Germany of to-day is beginning to demand, in the interests of the health of her future citizens, some relaxation of the tremendous claims made on the growing child.
Education in Germany seems to be strictly standardized. At a certain age every child, be he prince or peasant, will be in a certain class, learning certain subjects; each year he will move a grade higher, or if he does not, the whole family will feel that some dreadful irretrievable disgrace has befallen it. The mother will creep about the house sighing and swallowing her tears, the father will wear a corrugated brow and perceive looming in the distance a son who is a zwei-jähriger, that is, who must give two years instead of one to military service, since he has not passed the necessary examination which reduces the term by twelve months. This is one of the most terrible things which can happen to a German household.
Girls, though not coming quite under the same conditions, have to work just as hard as boys, and are quite as keen to be “versetzt"—to get their remove.
So those first lessons of the Princess with that energetic cheerful young tutor who had such an excellent persistent method of teaching grammar and arithmetic, those studies abhorrent to the minds of many children, were followed by me with the greatest interest.