On the evening of the Crown-prince’s wedding-day the citizens had planned a beautiful illumination of the city. While expressing his thanks on hearing of the plan, the Crown-prince said: “It would give me far more pleasure if those who have something to spare would give the money which the lights would cost, to the widows and orphans of those who have fallen in battle.” No sooner said than done. The King, the Princes and Princesses contributed large sums, so that the joy of this Christmas and marriage festival was reflected in many a careworn face and many a humble home. The next morning, on Christmas Day, the newly married pair, with their attendants, drove from the castle to the cathedral. After attending the services, and thus having consecrated the first day of their married life, they drove to their own palace.
This was, and still is, an unostentatious building and furnished in exceedingly plain style. But it pleased the Crown-prince, who was simple in his tastes by nature and education; and it also satisfied Louise, who was not at all fond of show. When, after the King’s death, Frederick William the Third might and should have removed to the castle, he preferred to remain in the simpler dwelling as long as he lived. When his children became dissatisfied, he would say to them: “You wish to make a show in the world, forgetting how it was with me at your age. On my birthday I received a pot of heliotrope worth threepence, and when my tutor wished to give me an unusual treat, he would take me to a coffee-garden and order twopence worth of cherries.” To a newly married son, whose house he had fitted up in princely style, he remarked: “I had no such splendors when I married your mother. I can only wish that you may live as happily and contentedly as we have done.”
In marked contrast to the usual brilliant, vain, superficial court life of the period, a new life now began in the Crown-prince’s palace. A simple, old-fashioned household was established, a shining example of German family life, of simplicity, love, and faithfulness. Both husband and wife avoided as much as possible any contact with the unsavory persons who frequented the court of Frederick William the Second as satellites of the celebrated Countess Lichtenau.
The young couple ignored the French custom of formal address and used the more intimate “thou.” The King noticed this with displeasure and called them to account with the words: “I hear that you call the Crown-princess ‘Thou’!”
But the Crown-prince answered: “For very good reasons.” And on being asked what these reasons were, replied: “With ‘Thou’ one always knows where one stands, but with ‘you’ all is uncertainty.”
In his exalted station he had, at best, but little freedom, and even when King he “wished to enjoy in his home life some of the independence that belongs to every private citizen.” He was not so much in his element at court as at home “with his wife.” When she had laid aside the necessary trappings of fashion and stood before him in her plain gown and ordinary attire, he would look at her as upon a pearl newly restored to its pristine purity; then he would grasp her hand with a radiant expression and exclaim: “Thank God! that you are my wife once more!”
And when she would laughingly ask: “How, am I not always your wife?” he would reply, sighing jocosely:
“Ah no! All too often you are obliged to be the Crown-princess.”
The unfortunate Mistress of Ceremonies had her troubles in consequence of this disregard of court etiquette. Once she read the Prince a French lecture on the influence of etiquette in the history of the world. With a very chastened air, he said: “Very well, I will submit myself. Announce me to my consort and inquire whether I may have the honor of waiting upon Her Royal Highness, the Crown-princess. Say that I should like to present my compliments and hope that she will graciously receive me.” Highly delighted with such a result of her sermon, the good lady went ceremoniously to the Crown-princess to beg an audience in the name of His Royal Highness. But what a surprise was in store for her! As she entered the room she found the Crown-prince, who had hurriedly preceded her by another passageway, already “with his wife”; and laughingly he calls to the crestfallen lady: “You see, dear Voss, my wife and I meet as often as we like unannounced. This is a good Christian custom, I believe. However, you are a splendid Mistress of Ceremonies, and henceforth shall be called ‘Madame Etiquette’!” The good lady had a similar experience afterwards at a festal procession of the Court. The order of ceremonies read that “Their Royal Highnesses must appear in the state carriage drawn by six horses, with two coachmen and three royal riflemen in uniform.” The Crown-prince allowed the Mistress of Ceremonies to make all the arrangements according to precedent. Punctually the grand coach drew up before the palace, the Crown-prince appeared with his consort, but instead of entering it with her, he gently pushed the Mistress of Ceremonies inside, closed the door, and ordered the coachman to drive on with the prisoner. With his Louise, he then seated himself in an ordinary carriage with only two horses and drove to the castle, where, according to orders, the coachman drew up behind the state coach, from which at the same moment “Madame Etiquette” was alighting.
Louise, brought up in comparative freedom and in the sunshine of love, was in complete sympathy with this spirit of fun, which was a token of domestic happiness. She had the most fortunate influence over this husband, who was generally silent, reserved, harsh, and often seemingly morose, because of his strict and severe education, which she, with her frank and innocent nature, most happily supplemented.