A Cyclopaedia of Female Biography/Sophia of Wolfenbuttel
SOPHIA OF WOLFENBUTTEL,
Baptized Carolina Christina Sophia, distinguished for her sufferings and her beautiful feminine traits of character, sister of the wife of Charles the Sixth, Emperor of Germany, was united in marriage to the Prince Alexis, son and presumptive heir of Peter the Great, Czar of Muscovy. In her were mingled the fairest gifts of nature and education: lovely, graceful, with a penetrating and cultivated mind, and a soul tempered and governed by virtue; yet with all these rare gifts, which softened and won every other heart, she was nevertheless an object of aversion to Alexis, the most brutal of mankind. More than once the unfortunate wife was indebted for her life to the use of antidotes to counteract the insidious poisons administered to her by her husband. At length the barbarity of the prince arrived at its climax. By an inhuman blow she was left for dead. He himself fully believed that which he so ardently desired, and tranquilly departed for one of his villas, calmly ordering the funeral rites to be duly celebrated.
But the days of the unfortunate princess were not yet terminated. Under the devoted care of the Countess of Konigsmark, her lady of honour, who had been present at the horrible event, she slowly regained health and strength, while her fictitious obsequies were magnificently performed and honoured throughout Muscovy, and nearly all the European courts assumed mourning for the departed princess. This wise and noble countess of Konigsmark, renowned as the mother of the brave Marshal of Saxony, perceived that by not seconding the fortunate deceit of the Prince Alexis, and the nation in general, and by proclaiming her recovery, the unhappy Princess Sophia would expose herself to perish sooner or later by a more certain blow. She therefore persuaded her wretched mistress to seek refuge in Paris, under the escort of an old man, a German domestic Having collected as much money and Jewellery as she was able, the princess set out with her faithful servant, who remained with her in the character of father, which he sustained during his life; and truly he possessed the feelings and tenderness, as well as the semblance, of a parent.
The tumult and noise of Paris, however, rendered it a place of sojourn ill adapted to Sophia, and her desire of concealment. Her small establishment having been increased by a single maid-servant, she accordingly embarked for Louisiana, where the French, who were then in possession of this lovely portion of America, had formed extensive colonies. Scarcely "was the young and beautiful stranger arrived at New Orleans, than she attracted the attention of every one. There was in that place a young man, named Moldask, who held an office in the colony; he had travelled much in Russia, and believed that he recognised the fair stranger; but he knew not how to persuade himself that the daughter-in-law of the czar, Peter, could in reality be reduced to so lowly a condition; and he dared not betray to any one his suspicions of her identity. He offered his friendship and assistance to her supposed father; and soon his attentive and pleasing manners rendered him so acceptable to both, that a mutual intimacy induced them to Join their fortunes, and establish themselves in the same habitation.
It was not long before the news of the death of Alexis reached them through the public journals. Then Moldask could no longer conceal his doubts of the true condition of Sophia; and finding that he was not deceived, he offered with respectful generosity to abandon his pursuits, and to sacrifice private fortune, that he might reconduct her to Moscow. But the princess, whose bitterest moments had been there passed, preferred to live afar from the dazzling splendour of the court, in tranquillity and honourable obscurity. She thanked the noble-hearted Moldask; but implored him, instead of such splendid offers, to preserve her secret inviolable, so that nothing might trouble her present felicity. He promised, and he kept his promise; his heart ardently desired her happiness, in which his own felicity was involved. Living under the same roof, in daily communion, their equal age and ardent feelings kindled in the young man's soul a livelier flame than mere friendship; but respect controlled it, and he concealed his love in his own bosom.
At length the old domestic, who, in the character of father, had shielded the princess, died, and was followed to the tomb by the sincere grief of his grateful mistress—a Just recompense for such fidelity. Propriety forbade that Moldask and Sophia should inhabit together the same dwelling after this event. He loved her truly, but loved her good fame more, and explained to her, not without grief, that it was necessary he should seek another abode, unless that she, who had already renounced all thoughts of pride and rank, were content to assume a name dearer and more sacred still than that of friend. He gave her no reason to doubt that vanity, instead of love, was the origin of this proposal, since the princess herself was firm in her desire to remain happy in private life. With all delicacy he sought to assure her that he could not hut remember, in case of a refusal, that it was scarcely undeserved. Nor could he ever forget how much was exacted from him, by the almost regal birth of her to whose hand he thus dared to aspire.
Love, and her desolate and defenceless condition, induced the princess willingly to consent; and, in constituting his felicity, she increased her own. Heaven blessed so happy a union; and, in due time, an infant bound still closer the marriage tie. Thus, the princess Sophia, born of noble blood, destined to enjoy grandeur, homage, even a throne, having adandoned the magnificence of her former state, in private life fulfilled all the duties of nature and of society.
Years passed happily on, until Moldask was attacked with disease, which required the aid of a skilful surgeon. Sophia was unwilling to confide a life so precious and beloved to the care of surgeons of doubtful skill, and therefore resolved to visit Paris. She persuaded her husband to sell all their possessions and embark. The medical skill of Paris restored Moldask to health. Being now perfectly cured, the husband sought to obtain employment in the Island of Bourbon, and was successful.
Meanwhile, the wife was one day walking with her graceful little girl in a public garden, as was her wont. She sat down on a green bank, and conversed with her child in German, when the Marshal of Saxony, passing by, was struck with the German accent, and stayed to observe them. She recognized him immediately; and, fearing the same from him, bent her eyes to the ground. Her blushes and confusion convinced the marshal that he was not mistaken; and h? cried out, "How, Madame? What do I see? Is it possible?" Sophia suffered him not to proceed, but drawing him aside, she declared herself, praying him to keep sacred the needful secret, and to return with her to her dwelling, where she might with greater care and security explain her situation. The marshal was faithful to his promise, visited the princess many times, though with all due precaution, and heard and admired her history. He wished to inform the King of France, that this august lady might be restored to her rightful honours and rank, and that he himself might thus complete the good work begun by his mother, the Countess of Konigsmark. He did inform the Empress Maria Theresa, who wished to restore her to her former rank. Sophia refused all these suggestions and offers. "I am so used," she said to the officer who proposed to reconduct her to the court—"I am so used to this domestic and private life, that I will never change it. Neither to be near a throne, nor to receive the greatest homage, nor to enjoy riches, nor even to possess the universe, would give me the shadow of the pleasure and delight I feel at this moment." So saying, she tenderly embraced the one and the other of her dear family.
She lived long with her husband and daughter, serene and contented, dividing her cares and occupations between assisting and amusing the one, and educating the mind and the heart of the other. Death snatched from her, within a short interval, these two beloved ones, who had filled her heart with sweet emotions; and for a long time that heart was a prey to one only sentiment of the deepest grief. Yet not even this sorrow affected her so much, but that she believed the unhappiness of grandeur to be still greater. She constantly refused the repeated invitations to Vienna; and, accepting only a small pension from the liberality of the empress, she retired to Vitry, near Paris, where she wished still to pass under the name of Madame Moldask: but it was impossible any longer to conceal her high birth and illustrious ancestry. Notwithstanding this, she never abandoned her accustomed simplicity and retirement of life, in which alone she had begun to find, and found to the last, true felicity.