Afterwards, however, Goethe passed through a deeper experience. This was his love for Ulrica von Levezow, whom he met with her mother, an old friend of his, at Marienbad in 1822, when he was in his seventy-third year. Goethe was charmed by the beautiful maiden, and loved her as ardently as if he had been fifty years younger. In the following year he met her again with her mother at the same place, and the fascination she exerted over him was so obvious that gossips began to talk of an approaching betrothal. When Ulrica left Marienbad, Goethe felt sadly depressed. He found relief, however, while listening to the playing of the Polish pianist, Madame de Szymanowska, and then he was able to give in the fine poem “Aussöhnung” (“Reconciliation”) full expression to his sense of what seemed for the moment his recovered freedom. It cost Goethe a hard struggle to overcome this late-flowering passion. He was determined that it should be mastered, and in the end succeeded in suppressing it. On the 3rd of September, 1825, the fiftieth anniversary of the Grand Duke’s accession was celebrated. Goethe was deeply moved by the memories which crowded in upon him on this occasion. It was arranged that early in the morning a cantata should be sung in front of the Roman House, in the Park, where the Grand Duke was staying; and, while this was being done, Goethe entered, anxious to be the first to congratulate the sovereign he had served so well. The Grand Duke took Goethe’s hands in his own, and said, “To the last breath together!” About two months afterwards the fiftieth anniversary of Goethe’s arrival at Weimar was also celebrated. The Grand Duke presented him with a gold medal struck for the occasion, and expressed in a letter all that he felt about the magnificent services Goethe had for half a century rendered to himself and his people. By the Grand Duke’s order, a copy of this letter was posted on a wall opposite Goethe’s house. Seeing a crowd, Goethe sent a friend to find what was interesting them. “That is he!” cried Goethe, when he learned what had been done. In the evening “Iphigenie” was represented, and the town was brilliantly illuminated. Goethe was saddened, almost beyond the power of expression, by the death of the Grand Duke in 1828, and that of the Grand Duchess in 1830. He had been associated with them so long, and had loved them, and been loved by them, so truly, that their death, in the first moments of grief, seemed like the breaking-up of all that had made life valuable. Happily, he had every reason to be satisfied with his relations with the young Grand Duke and Grand Duchess. They looked up to him with reverence, and delighted to do him honour.