The subject which naturally stimulates her most to artistic effort is the portraiture of her fondly-loved husband.  His memory, although he has been dead eleven years, is so fresh in her mind, her eye is so capable of recalling his image, and her hand is so well trained to follow her impressions, and to reproduce what she can visualize, that no sculptor could vie with her in reproducing his splendid form and manly features.  She once gave a commission to the celebrated German sculptor Uphues for a colossal statue of “Unser Fritz,” and calling at the artists’ studio, whilst he was at work on his clay model, she pointed out to him some points in which he had not caught the right expression.  Verbal explanations not adequately conveying her meaning, she asked permission to use the roughing chisel, set to work, and in half an hour with a touch here and a touch there, modified the features to such a degree that the sculptor was astounded at the striking improvement.  The model has since been transferred to marble, and is universally considered to be the best portrait extant of Emperor Frederick.

No greater tribute to her brilliancy and penetration in the matter of statecraft could possibly be given than the undisguised and openly acknowledged animosity with which she was, throughout her married life, regarded by the late Prince Bismarck, who feared her more than all his masculine rivals and opponents together.  She was a political foe worthy in every respect of his steel, for she repeatedly checkmated his moves; and if he sometimes spoke of her with a brutality and a degree of vehemence altogether out of place, this must be regarded as more in the light of a compliment than as an intentional piece of discourtesy, as it was a virtual admission of the fact that her opposition to his projects was of altogether too masculine and virile a character to admit for one moment of his according to her that forbearance and chivalrous deference which men as a rule are wont to concede to women as a tribute to their sex.  She fought him unceasingly, from the time when he violated the Prussian constitution, shortly before the war with Denmark, until the day when through her efforts and statecraft he was driven from office,—­a vanquished foe.  He had used in vain every weapon against her that his ingenuity could devise.  He had even gone so far as to publicly charge her with treason in betraying to the English, and through them to the French, military secrets which had been imparted to her by her husband, during the war of 1870.  He had, in short, done everything that lay in his power to prevent her husband from succeeding to the crown, mainly, as he admitted, with the object of preventing her from sharing the throne as empress; and after having grossly insulted her in the presence of her dying, voiceless and helpless husband by refusing to transact any state business, or to communicate any confidential reports to the monarch as long as she was in the room, he incited her eldest son, whose mind he had deliberately poisoned against her, to take steps which could only intensify the sorrow of the grief-stricken woman immediately after her so fondly loved husband had been taken from her.