A royal son and mother

by freiherrin von Pauline Hügel

During this time of spiritual growth she was attacked by a dangerous and tedious illness, during which she was forbidden to exert herself in any way; even the children's education had to be entrusted to other hands. Hence she had plenty of leisure for quiet reflection, self-examination, and above all prayer. And so it came about that on the Feast of St. Augustine, which happened also to be her birthday, Amalie's eager, troubled spirit found joy and peace in a very humble confession—her first since the old days of childhood. In the saintly Dr. Overberg she found not merely a confessor, but a spiritual father,—"some one who," as she so well expresses it, "would care for me sufficiently in spite of all my unlovableness, out of pure Christian zeal; one who would look after me spiritually, train me, correct, comfort and exhort me."

Soon afterward she wrote to Mitri, somewhat wistfully: "Dear child, I am obliged to grieve you so often because I must wish and will for you what till now you have not known how to wish and will for yourself; and I have had to keep you from what you most eagerly desired. Believe me, my dear son, this constant thwarting of your wishes is the hardest of my duties; for it seems to me as though thereby I might lose your love and confidence. And yet some day—perchance only after I am in my grave—you will learn to bless me for this strictness." And the day did come; for in far-distant America the grand old missionary would at times, with tears in his eyes, talk by the hour in glowing words of his "glorious mother."

Amalie's children soon followed her example in submitting themselves to the Church. On Trinity Sunday, 1787, they were both Confirmed; they were now seventeen and eighteen years of age.

Prince Gallitzin seems to have manifested no displeasure at the religious conversion of his wife and children. As his son was receiving the liberal education befitting a youth of his rank—an education that included French, music, riding, fencing, dancing, and the more serious studies requisite for the military profession,—the father was satisfied, and had sufficient good taste and feeling to be glad that to all these things should be added innocence of life and high principle. Seven years earlier Amalie had considered the children old enough to profit by travel; and Demetrius in later life would recall with interest the visits paid with his mother to the Stolbergs at Eutin, to Jakobi at Düsseldorf; above all to Weimar, the Athens of Germany, where the noble Herder seems to have attracted the lad more than the great Goethe himself; though Goethe was a sincere admirer of the Princess.

There is an account of an interesting interview between Amalie and Goethe in after years. She, full as usual of her beautiful, earnest zeal for souls, invited Goethe to her house at Münster,—an invitation gladly, though perhaps a little timorously, accepted. The great man probably guessed what he was "in for," and showed no resentment when the Princess began, after the manner of the saints, to speak to her guest of the judgment to come. The next day, when he departed, she accompanied him a stage or two of his journey, still speaking to him with that wonderful absolute conviction which invariably commanded respect, often admiration, and not infrequently brought about conversion. Alas! in the case of Goethe it was to bring forth only the first two of these fruits.

But such pleasant journeys in the Fatherland were considered insufficient for the liberal education of the children of the upper classes of those times. As Demetrius grew older, Prince Gallitzin did indeed talk of sending him straight to St. Petersburg to join the army; but his mother was opposed to this plan. Her Catholic heart, no doubt, shrank from exposing her son, whom she considered very unformed, very young for his age, very "infirm of purpose," to the corruption of Russian high life. Moreover, her motherly vanity wished to see him more polished, less angular; and so a distant voyage was discussed.

Till now there had been but one place where "golden youth" could receive its extra coat of gilding; but, happily, Paris, the gilder's shop, could not then be thought of,—it was in the throes of that terrible revolution of which no one could foresee the end. An alternative was decided upon, in which we can not fail to see the guidance of Providence. The Gallitzins determined to send their son to America for two years,—why it seems a little difficult to say. Probably the Princess, who looked upon Mitri as an idle dreamer and somewhat of a weakling, judged that having to "shift for himself" and stand alone for a time would strengthen and develop his character.

A young priest named Brosius, tutor in the Droste family, had just decided to go to America as a missionary. This would be an excellent escort for Demetrius, whose two years in America were to be spent in making himself conversant with the language, laws and habits of this interesting and most flourishing country. Prince Gallitzin was an admirer of Washington and Jefferson, and in his letters to his son bids him try for familiar intercourse with such great men. His mother, too, furnished him with an introduction from the Bishop of Hildesheim and Paderborn to the celebrated John Carroll, first Bishop of Baltimore,—indeed in those days the only Catholic bishop in the whole of the United States.

Demetrius set out on his long journey in August, 1792. His departure furnishes a curious anecdote. Had the sensitive and high-souled youth of twenty-two summers some presentiment that, once gone, he would never return; that this was a last solemn farewell to home, to friends, to country,—in fact, to all human brightness? At any rate, his resolution failed him; and, with what his mother considered characteristic indecision, he began to discuss whether the journey had not best be given up, after all. The moment was certainly ill chosen: already his mother and he were walking arm in arm to the quay at Rotterdam, whence a little boat was to take him on board the great ocean vessel. For a few minutes Amalie said never a word; then, with flashing eyes, she exclaimed, "Mitri, I am most heartily ashamed of you!" and the next moment Demetrius found himself floundering in the water. He was quickly picked up by the laughing sailors, who at a sign from his mother rowed him swiftly away.

The dear old priest, Father Gallitzin, when he merrily told this tale against himself forty-two years later, would not be positive that the "accident" had not perhaps been occasioned by a quick, involuntary movement on the part of his mother, causing him to stumble and so fall into the sea; but he very much inclined to the opinion that she had purposely given him this wholesome ducking.