“She, however, asked me,” Strauss writes, “to come and see her, if I was not afraid of infection. She said that the next few weeks would be very solitary ones, and it would be of great value to her if I felt disposed to put up with her as sole audience for my lectures on Voltaire. To this I was only too willing to agree.”
The manuscript took the form of seven lectures, and the author was rewarded for his pains “by the keen interest and unwavering attention of his listener.”
After repeated revisions, the printing of the work on Voltaire began. Strauss gives his own account of this in the following extract:—
“When it first occurred to me to write something on Voltaire for the Princess in the form of lectures, I naturally cherished the hope that, when the little book was printed, I might obtain her permission to dedicate it to her. As the work progressed, however, this hope became fainter, and by the time the book was ready I had entirely given it up.
“I could only take pleasure in my work, if I felt I had been perfectly sincere; if, instead of condemning Voltaire, as is usually the case, I stood up for him upon essential points—nay, even went so far as to intimate that here and there he had seemed to me not to have gone far enough.
“The Princess might naturally have scruples about allowing a book of such a tendency to be dedicated to her, considering her position and what was due to it; and to ask her to allow the book to be dedicated to her seemed forbidden by that discretion which I was bound to observe. The thought then struck me of writing with my own hand into the copy of the book which I gave her the Dedication, in the terms in which it now stands printed on the second page of the volume. Meanwhile, on the one hand, the friendly intercourse with the Princess continued, whilst on the other the printing of the book advanced. One day in the most kind manner she told me how much she felt she owed to our acquaintance, and how much it had helped to clear her views in many ways. I, on my part, expressed to her in all sincerity the animating and exhilarating influence which our intercourse had exercised upon myself, and, in particular, how it had cheered and encouraged me in my labors on Voltaire.
“‘It would be nice, if you would dedicate your book to me,’ the Princess rejoined. How agreeably surprised I was can easily be imagined. I acknowledged without hesitation how this had been my first intention, but that I had given it up out of regard for her, not wishing to expose her to misinterpretation. The Princess replied that the fear of being misunderstood would never prevent her from doing what she thought right. I pointed out, that the matter must be well and carefully considered, and that, first and foremost, she must obtain her husband’s consent. Her answer was that she had no fear on that point; but that she would of course consult him about it. I told the Princess that I had made several changes and additions since I first wrote the lectures. I would therefore bring her the proof-sheets as soon as they were ready, partly that she might glance over the whole again, and partly that she might draw the Prince’s attention to any doubtful passages. They would then be able to form their own opinions.
“I sent her the proof-sheets, and received them back from the Princess on the 11th of June, 1870, with the following letter:
“‘Dear Herr Professor:—I return you your “Voltaire” with many thanks. My husband read through the fifth chapter of it yesterday; he does not think that its contents are such as to justify my refusing the dedication. The value which I place on the dedication of your book will always be far greater than any little unpleasantness which might possibly arise from my accepting it.
Alice.’