At Home and at Work. 1866-1872

“Life is meant for work, and not for pleasure.” (August 29, 1866.)

1866.

This year, which brought such important changes to the political life of Germany, was also in many ways full of sorrow and trouble to the Princess, and the hard and painful struggle through which Germany passed affected her very nearly.

During the early part of the year, the new palace was completed, and in it the Princess had the satisfaction of seeing her wishes realized, and of feeling both comfortable and “at home.” She was also able during this new year to extend the field of her practical usefulness.

Princess Alice attended some very interesting lectures on the necessity of providing special asylums for poor idiots, delivered by a very clever and enterprising “orthodox” clergyman from the Odenwald. She took up the idea most warmly, and determined to found such an institution herself, but in doing this found herself face to face with very serious difficulties. The lecturer and those who sided with him wished that any institution of this kind should bear a strictly religious stamp. The Princess did not agree in this view. She wished to separate the religious from the practical part of the work. She wished people to feel, that they were bound to help to alleviate sickness and suffering (in whatever form) out of mere love to their fellow-creatures, and not only as the fulfilment of a religious duty. While the Princess always acknowledged the value of religious motives in carrying out works of charity, she felt strongly, in this particular case, that the treatment of idiots should be left to the medical profession, without any foreign interference.

A committee was formed of persons who shared the Princess’ views, and who were commissioned by her to take the necessary steps for carrying out her plans. By far the most difficult part of the work fell to her own share—namely, that of finding the necessary funds. To obtain these she organized a Bazaar in her new palace. This was a totally novel proceeding in Germany, and well calculated to attract a large number of visitors. The Bazaar was opened on the 6th of April, and lasted four days. The Princess and Prince Louis and her brother, Prince Alfred, took an active part in it. The result surpassed utmost expectations, a success mainly due to her own personal efforts, and to the charm which she exercised over all. At the close of the Bazaar she was not only able to announce that she had realized the sum of 16,000 florins, but that she had also gained the conviction that the whole country supported her in her undertaking.

In spite of the success of this Bazaar, the Princess was in later years opposed to a repetition of such an expedient, as she felt—what many do—that people often come on such occasions for their own personal amusement rather than to aid the charity.

The war of 1866, which was the consequence of the unfortunate conflict about the Duchies of Schleswig-Holstein, was viewed by the Princess with feelings in which personal interests and attachments conflicted with political convictions. She was so truly German that she felt most keenly the struggle between Germans and Germans, or as she herself says in one of her letters, “brother against brother.”

At times she could not help being downcast, because she saw how much her husband and her husband’s country suffered from it, and because she foresaw how disastrous to South Germany the results of such a war must be. Prince Louis himself was soon obliged to assume his command in the field.

The Princess gave birth to a third daughter on the 11th of July, during the most anxious days of that trying time. Prince Louis had happened to be home on leave for a few days when the event took place; but he was obliged to leave the Princess on the 14th of July, and to go at once into action at Aschaffenburg. As the South-German troops had to retreat, all communication with his home for some time was cut off.

On the 31st of July the Prussians under General von Göben entered Darmstadt. Prince Louis’ parents, who were the only relations remaining in Darmstadt, were daily with the Princess. On the 8th of August, whilst on her way home from visiting her parents-in-law, the Princess unexpectedly met the Prince in the street. He had obtained leave of absence during a short armistice. The joy of this meeting can easily be pictured! The Prince and Princess together visited the wounded; and on the 10th of August the Prince was appointed by the Grand Duke to the command of the Hessian division then in the field. By the Grand Duke’s wish the Prince went for two days to Berlin, and then joined the troops in Rhenish Hesse. He took up his quarters in the “Gelbe Haus” at Nierstein-Oppenheim, and the Princess courageously shared them with him—in spite of the cholera then raging there. On the 12th of September—Prince Louis’ birthday—the little Princess was christened at Darmstadt by the military chaplain; she received the names Irène (Peace) Louise Marie Anna. The same day peace was ratified at Berlin—that peace for which the brave mother of the child had so ardently longed.

The Cavalry Brigade which the Prince had commanded stood sponsor to the child.

It was only on the 20th of September that the Prince and Princess with the Hessian division made their public entry into Darmstadt.

January 2d.

I am at the head of a committee of ladies out of the different classes of society to make a large bazaar, in which all the country is to take part, for the Idiot Asylum. It is very difficult—all the more as I have never had any thing to do with such things in my life. * * * I wanted for the first public thing I undertake, to take in all principles, and my mother-in-law has given her name to it. I have chosen the committee out of different sets—half adelig [people of rank] half bürgerlich [of the citizen class], and all these ladies, half of whom I did not know before, come and sit in my small room and discuss—and, as yet, do not disagree.

January 6th.

* * * The people here are so much pleased that my Louis takes such active part in all his duties—military and civil, for he attends the different offices, and as General, I hear, he keeps great order where there was until now disorder and great abuse of power. Of course, I see him much less, and some days scarcely at all.

On the 14th we go to Gotha for about a fortnight, without the children.

Gotha, January 19th.

Dear Uncle and Aunt are well, and we are very happy here, for they are always kindness itself to us. Uncle looks very well, but he grows very stout, I think. We saw the Braut von Messina [Schiller’s] so well given two nights ago. I thought so much of dear Papa, who admired it greatly; and Uncle Ernest told me he had it given for you, when you first came here.

Gotha, January 22d.

* * * Two nights ago Uncle, Louis, and I, with a very clever old actress, read a piece together. Louis resisted at first, but it went very well. You can’t imagine how mild it is. I have the windows always open. Gustav Freitag is here. I am always glad to see him. He is a good friend to Uncle, and he is so honest and straightforward.

Gotha, January 26th.

I shall be very sorry to go away from here—the whole atmosphere does one good. Dear Uncle is so amusing; he speaks of interesting things, and has interesting people.

Our Quaker acquaintances have sent me a great deal for the bazaar, and an old gentleman who heard of it, 100l.! I could not believe my eyes. They are always so generous: and, hearing of my undertaking a work of this sort, they sent me this spontaneously. Is it not kind?

Darmstadt, February 1st.

It is spring weather here altogether—quite warm when one comes out of the house. It is so unnatural. The children enjoy it, and are out a great deal, looking so well and strong: I wish you could see them. The little one is growing up to her sister very fast, and actually wears the frocks Victoria wore last year. I wish you could hear all the extraordinary things Victoria says. Ella is civil to all strangers—excepting to my mother-in-law, or to old ladies. It is too tiresome. There is a large ball given by the officers at their Casino to-night, to which we must go. It will be crowded and hot. Our house gets on tolerably. The housekeeper, a Berlinerinn, comes on the 20th, and we told that we can go into the house next month. I can’t help doubting it, and I regret leaving this nice little house, where our first happy years have been spent. I am so glad that you have at least been in the new house, so that I can always think that you are no stranger to it, which makes me like it much better.

February 10th.

* * * I am happy to think you are quiet at Osborne after all you had to go through. The emotion and all other feelings recalled by such an event must have been very powerful and have tried you much.58 It was noble of you, my darling Mama, and the great effort will bring compensation. Think of the pride and pleasure it would have given darling Papa—the brave example to others not to shrink from their duty; and it has shown that you felt the intense sympathy which the English people evinced, and still evince, in your great misfortune.

How to-day recalls those bright and happy former years! There is no cloud without a silver lining, and the lining to the black cloud which overshadows your existence is the bright recollection of the past blending into the bright hope of a happy future; a small part of it also is the intense love of your children and nation, which casts a light around you which many live to enjoy and admire, and which few—if any—possess like you. I wish I could have sent a fine nosegay of orange blossoms for to-day, but they could not have arrived fresh so I gave it up.

Louis sends his tenderest love, and wishes me to say how much his thoughts with mine are to-day constantly with you. He is very industrious, and has a great deal to do now, and, I hear, does all very well.

Darmstadt, February 15th.

How dear of you to have written to me on the 10th—a day of such recollections! That last happy wedding-day at Buckingham Palace, how well I remember it, and all the previous ones at Windsor, when we all stood before your door, waiting for you and dear Papa to come out. You both looked so young, bright, and handsome. As I grew older, it made me so proud to have two such dear parents! And that my children should never know you both together—that will remain a sorrow to me as long as I live.

Darmstadt, March 10th.

* * * Your idea of Friedrichroda for us was so good, but alas! now even that will be impracticable, on account of money. Louis has had to take up money again at Coutt’s to pay for the house, and the house is surety.

We must live so economically—not going anywhere, or seeing many people, so as to be able to spare as much a year as we can. England cost us a great deal, as the visit was short last time. We have sold four carriage horses, and have only six to drive with now, two of which the ladies constantly want for theatre, visits, etc.; so we are rather badly off in some things. But I should not bore you with our troubles, which are easy to bear.

March 16th.

How trying the visit to Aldershot must have been, but it is so wise and kind of you to go. I cannot think of it without tears in my eyes. Formerly that was one of the greatest pleasures of my girlhood, and you and darling Papa looked so handsome together. I so enjoyed following you on those occasions. Such moments I should like to call back for an instant.

Our house here is quite empty, and the déménagement creates such work. To-morrow night we sleep for the first time in the new house.

March 17th.

I write from our dear little old house. May dear Papa’s and your blessing rest on our new home, as I am sure it will! It is full of souvenirs of you both—all your pictures, photographs of dear brothers and sisters and home. It reminds me a little of Osborne, of Buckingham Palace, a little even of Balmoral. Could I but show it to darling Papa! If I have any taste, I owe it all to him, and I learned so much by seeing him arrange pictures, rooms, etc.

At half-past seven we go into our house to-night. Bender is to say a prayer and pronounce a blessing, when we with all our household are assembled in hall; only Louis’ parents and William besides ourselves. Yours and dear Papa’s I pray to rest on us.

March 20th.

That [the death of the Duchess of Kent] was the commencement of all the grief; but with darling Papa, so full of tenderness, sympathy and delicate feeling for you, how comparatively easy to bear, compared to all that followed!

* * * We are very comfortably established here, and I can’t fancy that I am in Germany, the house and all its arrangements being so English. When can we hope once to have you here? Of course that is the summit of our wishes. Your rooms are on the east side and very cool—as you always go abroad when it is hot, and suffer so much from the heat. I shall die of it this year, as my rooms are to the west.

March 24th.

* * * Our grand-uncle of Homburg has just died, so that Homburg falls to Uncle Louis now. But all the things of the Landgravine Elizabeth go to Princess Reuss, and her [Aunt Elizabeth’s 59] rooms are full of beautiful miniatures, oil-paintings, and ornaments en masse, like Gloucester House.

I shall be so glad to see dear Affie. His rooms are to be ready by this evening. The house is very comfortable, but the weather is awful—wind, rain, and sleet. In spite of it the house is so cheerful.

How sorry I am for you that dear Aunt 60 is gone. As she was so well this time, it will be a reason more for her returning soon to you.

Dear Lady Frances Baillie was with me on Thursday, so dear and charming.

April 2d.

* * * We are living in such a state of anxiety and alarm. War 61 would be too fearful a thing to contemplate—brother against brother, friend against friend, as it will be in this case! May the Almighty avert so fearful a calamity! Here, at Mayence and Frankfort, it will begin, if any thing happens, as there are mixed garrisons; and we must side with one against the other. For Henry, who is still here, it is dreadful. He can’t desert at such a moment, and yet if he should have to draw his sword against his country, his brothers fighting on the other side! Fancy the complications and horrors of such a war!

For Vicky and Fritz it is really dreadful; please let me hear by messenger what you hear from them. I am sure you think of us in these troubled times. What would dear Papa have said to all this? I long to hear from you, to know that your warm heart is acting for Germany.

March 26th.

* * * The dear old Oueen Marie Amélie 62 is gone to her rest at last, after a long and so stormy a life! Claremont is now also altered. How sad those constant changes are! It reminds one again and again that we are on a journey, and that the real home is elsewhere. All those who work hard and love their fellow-creatures meet again, and the thorny path will be forgotten which leads to the happy meeting. I sincerely mourn for the dear Queen, and she was so kind to me always. I am glad she was one of Victoria’s god-mothers.

April 7th.

* * * Our Bazaar goes off wonderfully: 7,000 florins the first day, and to-day again a great deal. Affie was invaluable in arranging, selling, and assisting in every way. There have been crowds these two days, as in England: something quite unusual for the quiet inhabitants of this place. They have shown so much zeal and devotion that I am quite touched by it, as I am more or less a stranger to them.

April 25th.

Thousand thanks for your dear lines, and for the money and charming bas-relief of you, which I think very good. I thought so much of former birthdays at home in Buckingham Palace. They were so happy. We did nothing in particular; merely dined at Kranichstein with Uncle Louis in the afternoon. It was warm and fine.

The money will go at once to Louis’ man of business toward paying off the furniture, and is, indeed, very, very acceptable, more so under present circumstances than any thing else you could give us; and that part of the furniture will then all be your present.

May 3d.

* * * The prospect of war seems to be nearing realization. It will be so dreadful if it does. God be with us, if such a misfortune befall poor Germany! These prospects have already done much harm to trade. The large manufacturies send away their superfluous workmen, and they sell next to nothing. Most unpopular amongst high and low, and amongst people of all opinions, this civil war will be. * * *

I have made all the summer out-walking dresses, seven in number, with paletôts for the girls—not embroidered, but entirely made from beginning to end; likewise the new necessary flannel shawls for the expected. I manage all the nursery accounts, and every thing myself, which gives me plenty to do, as every thing increases, and, on account of the house, we must live very economically for these next years.

It is so kind of you to give Dr. Priestley his fee, otherwise I would have had scruples in giving so large a sum for my own comfort.

If there is a war then, and Louis is away, what shall I do? This is my constant dread and apprehension. As long as he comes home safe again—that is all I shall think of. Please God to spare me that fearful anxiety, which weighs on me now already; for he, having only a brigade, could not keep out of danger, like Fritz in Schleswig.

I put my trust wholly in the Almighty, who has watched over and blessed our life so richly thus far—so much, much more than I ever deserved, or can deserve; and He will not forsake us in the hour of need, I am sure.

These dangerous times make one very serious and anxious; the comfort of faith and trust in God, who does all well and for the best, is the only support. Life is but a pilgrimage—a little more or a little less sorrow falls to one’s lot; but the anticipation of evil is almost as great a suffering as the evil itself, and mine always was an anxious nature, so I cannot banish the thoughts which all the dreadful chances of war force upon one.

May 7th.

* * * I am so sorry for poor Louise and Beatrice, and whooping-cough is a nasty thing, though I wish we could complain of that as our sufferings here. Anxiety, worry without end!

Uncle Alexander returned from Vienna two days ago. The Emperor, Uncle Alexander Mensdorff, all frantic at being forced into war, but fearing now no more being able to prevent it. Cannot the other three Powers interfere and step between at this dangerous crisis—proposing a Congress, or any thing, so as to avert this calamity?

Henry, who was here on six weeks’ leave, as he and Uncle Louis were to have gone to Russia (which now, of course, they won’t do), had suddenly to return to Bonn, as his regiment is made mobil. Uncle Alexander receives the command of the 8th Armee-corps, which I suppose and hope will be stationed somewhere near here, as Louis is in that, and is to go. He means to go to Berlin this afternoon for a day to see Fritz, and tell him how circumstances now force him to draw his sword against the Prussians in the service of his own country. The whole thing is dreadful, and the prospect of being left alone here at such a moment (for all our people, nearly, will accompany Louis) is dreadful! If I were only over my troubles I should not be so anxious, so nervous and unhappy, as I must say the anticipation of all these dreadful things makes me. Could I follow in the distance! But now that is impossible, and I have not a single older married person near me. When dear Louis goes, of course Westerweller goes too. I still pray and hope that there be no war; even if all the troops are assembled, I hope that the other Powers will interfere, and not look on whilst these brothers cut each others throats. It is such an unnatural, monstrous war!

The death of Lord and Lady Rivers is dreadful for their children, but how blessed for themselves! I hope Lady Caroline [Barrington] will pass by here, which will be a great pleasure to me, though she says she can but stop two days, as you wish her to be home by the 15th.

May 18th.

* * * How glad I am to hear that Lord Clarendon is still hopeful! Here as yet, though there is no distinct reason for it, save the repugnance of all to this civil war, all still hope to avoid the war. Every day we have occasion to hear how the Prussians detest this war—army and all—and there are constant rows, with the Landwehr in particular. Men of forty, who have families and homes to look after, are taken away with their sons; and those who have horses are also taken, with their horses: so that the wife and children sit at home, unable to do any thing for their land. It is ruining numbers, and murmurs get louder and louder. A revolution must break out if this continues. * * * I do pray most fervently that the King will listen to the just advice, in no way derogatory to his dignity, of placing the hated question of the Duchies before the Confederation; but I fear he won’t. If he would only listen to that advice and disarm, all Germany would do it at once—only too gladly—forgetting all the losses in the happiness of peace restored. Forgive my stupid letter, but we live really so in the midst of these affairs, on which our existence will turn, that I can think of nothing else.

Austria can’t hold out much longer, and the country is getting very violent against the King and Bismarck. The Emperor is less able to concede and keep peace.

Now good-bye, dearest Mama. We are so grateful to you for taking the children, if any thing comes to pass.

May 22d.

* * * Any thing you hear of Vicky and Fritz, will you write it to me? * * * The cloud grows blacker every day, and the anxiety we all live in is very great. But I ought not to write to you to-day of such gloomy things, which, thank God, you only see and hear of from the other side of the water.

May 25th.

* * * The Duke and Duchess of Nassau were here yesterday. They, like me, are in such an unpleasant position, should it come to blows, which I still hope may be averted—for why should we harmless mortals be attacked?

* * * We shall be beggars very soon, if all goes on as it promises to do; it is quite dreadful, and the want of other people (and dissatisfaction) increases. * * * I have ordered a good travelling-bag for Louis, for much the same reason that some people take out an umbrella in fine weather to keep off the rain, and this is to be against a war. * * * I have a sort of Ahnung [presentiment] that it won’t come to the worst—for us at least—and here we shall keep so quiet, only on the defensive, if attacked.

May 28th.

* * * There seems a little chance of the dreadful prospects being bettered. How I do pray it may be the commencement of a better time; and that, if peace be established, it may be so firmly, so that one may not live in the daily dread of new quarrels re-opening between the two countries. * * *

The man who built our house has nearly been made bankrupt, and wants money from us to save him from ruin, and we can scarcely manage it. The ruin this preparation for war, and consequent cessation of all speculations, buildings, or trade, has brought on people is dreadful, and of course increases.

June 8th.

* * * How precious are your words of love and sympathy and the hope you still hold to, that war may somehow be averted! It does me good to hear it; and I know how much, and how lovingly, your thoughts dwell with dear Vicky and with me during this time of trial. * * *

June 13th.

* * * I fear if the Bund orders the mobilization, and goes against Prussia, our troops will be the first to go, and then Louis may get orders to be off any day. It is too dreadful! I live in such dread that he may have to go just before, or at the very moment of my confinement. * * *

I hope Scotland will do you good. Please God, when you return matters may be better. If Austria and Prussia would only fight out their quarrel together; but the latter has taken refuge with the Bund now, because she wanted it.

Darmstadt, June 15th.

* * * The serious illness of poor little Sigismund 63 in the midst of all these troubles is really dreadful for poor Vicky and Fritz, and they are so fond of that merry little child.

We have just received the news that the Prussians have crossed our frontier and established themselves at Giessen. The excitement here is dreadful and it is very difficult to keep people back from doing stupid things—wanting to attack, and so on, which with our force alone would be madness.

Louis—as always—remains quiet; but we live in a perpetual fever, alarms being sent, being gehetzt [stirred up] from Vienna, as they want the Bund to go with them at once. It is a dreadful time. I anticipate it will be the close of the existence of the little countries. God stand by us! Without the civil list Uncle Louis and the family are beggars, as all the private property belongs to the country.

It is so kind of dear Lady Ely to offer to come. I shall be very glad of it, for from one day to another I don’t know what Louis’ duties may be; and, when I am laid up, it is so pleasant to have some one who can write to you.

June 18th.

These lines I send by our children, whom you will so kindly take charge of—alas, that the times should be such as to make this necessary! In your dear hands they will be so safe; and if we can give you a little pleasure in sending them, it would be a real consolation in parting from them, which we both feel very much.

The state of excitement here is beyond description. Troops arriving, being billeted about—all will be concentrated from here to Frankfort. Two days ago the Bund telegraphed for Uncle Alexander to come, as the Prussians were advancing; we, of course, were all unprepared, and the confusion and fright were dreadful; but, thank God, they retreated again, when they got wind that troops were assembling.

June 24th.

* * * The state of affairs is awful; perpetual frights and false news arrive. The Prussians are coming from Wetzlar or Bingen; all the bustle and alarm for necessary defence; it is really dreadful. Louis’ chief has his staff at Frankfort. Louis’ cavalry brigade is there likewise, so he has his adjutant, etc., there, and does his work early in the morning at Frankfort, returning here in the afternoon, which has been kindly allowed on account of me. I remain here, of course, as near dear Louis as I can; and now that the children are gone, I have only myself to look after. * * * I have not the least fear, but my anxiety about Louis will be very great, as you can imagine. * * * Collections are already being made for the hospitals in the field, and the necessary things to be got for the soldiers. Illness and wounds will be dreadful in this heat. Coarse linen and rags are the things of which one can’t have enough, and I am working, collecting shirts, sheets, etc.; and now I come to ask, if you could send me some old linen for rags. In your numerous households it is collected twice a year, and sent to hospitals. Could I beg for some this time? It would be such a blessing for the poor Germans; and here they are not so rich, and that is a thing of which in every war there has been too little. Lint I have ordered from England by wish of the doctors; and bandages also they wished for. If you could, through Dr. Jenner, procure me some of these things, I should be so grateful. * * * Four dozen shirts we are making in the house. Every contribution of linen or of patterns of good cushions, or any good bed which in the English hospitals has been found useful, we should be delighted to have. * * * For the moment the people beg most for rags; our house being new, we have none. I am tolerably well, and cannot be too thankful for good nerves. Louis is very low at times, nervous at leaving me; and for him I keep up, though at times not without a struggle. May the Almighty watch over us, and not separate us, is my hourly prayer!

In your hands we feel the children so safe, though we miss them much. It is so kind of you to have taken them, and they are strong and healthy. * * *

June 25th.

Two words by Lady Ely’s courier. I am so glad she is here. She performed the journey in a day and night without difficulty; and Christa, who merely came from Cassel, took three days coming by road.

Alas! to-morrow Louis’ division moves on into the country to make room for other troops, and he must go. It will be too far for him to return—save with special permission for a few hours—so we shall have to part. My courage is beginning to fail me, but I bear up as best I can. God knows what a bitter trial it is! He is just in front, so the first exposed. William is to go in Uncle Alex.’s staff, and my poor mama-in-law is beginning to break down now. We try to cheer each other. The whole thing is so hard: against her countrymen—there where Louis has served. The whole thing is so contrecœur, and the Prussian soldiers dislike it as much as we do.

I am going to Frankfort with ever so many poor wives to take leave of their husbands, who march to-day.

The heat is awful. I have no time to think of myself, or I daresay I should have heat, etc., to complain of. Being still off and on with Louis, and having things to do, keeps me up; but when he is gone, and I have no man here to reassure me, it will be dreadful.

I must close. * * * Letters from home now are such a pleasure; do let any one write to me sometimes to give me news of you all. Your own child,

Alice.

Darmstadt, July 1st.

* * * The parting now was so hard! and he feels it so dreadfully. I can scarcely manage to write. The heat, besides, is overpowering. Our dear wedding-day four years ago! Four years of undisturbed, real, and increasing happiness. How I thank and bless the Almighty for them, and how fervently I pray that we may live over this most bitter trial!

* * * Whether Henry is engaged or not we don’t know, and can get no news of him. At any rate he is cut off from news of us and the rest of Germany; and, as our army is moving, and he is on the extreme wing, at any moment he may find himself opposite to his own brothers and countrymen. It is most painful, and has been to my poor father-in-law a great shock, as we all hoped he had got away. Please let my brothers know this. They will feel for this unheard-of position for three brothers to be in. * * *

Dear Lady Ely is a comfort and support to me, and it was quite a relief to Louis to leave her with me. We are both so grateful that she came. Christa is quite out of sorts about her country, and sees every thing black. Marie is low about her brother; and we are so in the middle of it all, that an English person who has no one concerned in it all is really a relief.

I am so glad that you are pleased with the little ones. You be sure, I know, not to let them get in the way of infection, if there is still any.

July 3d.

* * * Poor Vicky! She bears her trial [the death of her son, Prince Sigismund] bravely, and it is a heavy one indeed. This dreadful war is enough to break one’s heart. Those lives sacrificed for nothing—and what will be the end of it all? All our troops are gone now, too, and, what is so unpleasant, of course we here don’t know where they go to—where they are. Letters are fetched by the Feldpost, and as they are chiefly not near the railroads—at least not Louis—we cannot telegraph. At such a moment I know dear Louis fidgets dreadfully for news, and I not less. Since he has gone I have heard nothing.

At length letters from Henry have come. He never received until the 29th the telegram his parents begged the King to send him on the 18th, for the King said he did not know where he was—thought he was in Russia! He has been in all the engagements, wondering why, as was originally arranged, no order came for him to leave.

I am so very uncomfortable, and it wants courage and patience and hope, under such circumstances, to bear all. Of course, anxiety about beloved Louis is the chief thing, and longing for news. The Prussians are collecting a large army near Thüringen, in which direction ours are marching. Probably Uncle Ernest against ours! He might so well have remained quiet, and sent his troops to Mayence, as was settled.

For dear Lenchen’s wedding-day receive every warm and affectionate wish. May God’s blessing rest on their union! I am so glad you are pleased with the dear children. I have already found that likeness in Ella to Affie’s picture by Thorburn, but she is so like dear Louis.

July 6th.

* * * There seems a chance of an armistice. I trust it is so, and that peace will ensue. The enormous bloodshed on both sides this fortnight is too awful to think of. Poor Austria! it is hard for her. But as she is said to be ready to cede Venice, then, at least, the Italian war will be at an end.

Surely the neutral Powers will try and prevent Austria and Prussia beginning again; it is too horrid!

The rest of Germany now must knock under; but that is better than again shedding so much blood on the chance of getting the upper hand.

I have had some lines from dear Louis from the north of Hesse. He is well; how I do hope now that they won’t come to blows.

How kind of you to give the children frocks for the wedding! Will you kiss the dear little ones from me? I miss them very much.

[In a letter dated July 11, 1866, Prince Louis announces to the Queen the birth of a strong, healthy girl, with “dark eyes and brown hair.”]

Darmstadt, July 19th.

Beloved Mama:—What a time I have passed during these eight days since baby’s birth! Firstly, I have to thank the Almighty for having preserved my own sweet and adored husband, and for the blessing of having had him by me, so dear, so precious, during my confinement. After three days he had to go, and when he got near Aschaffenburg found fighting going on. We could hear the guns here. The Prussians shot from the roofs of the houses; they fought in the streets; it must have been horrid. Our troops retreated (as had always been intended) in perfect order. The wounded were brought in here the following day. The 13th and 14th they fought. Louis was there on the 14th; since then I have not seen him—God knows when I shall again.

The Prussians have taken Frankfort, and they are at home here. No communications allowed; get no papers or letters; may send none! An existence of monstrous anxiety and worry, which it is impossible for those to imagine who have not lived through it.

I had a letter from Louis from the Odenwald this morning, written yesterday. They expected to pass Amorbach to-day. They are trying to meet the Bavarians, who are never to be found.

I long for a letter from you. We have none at all. I have had none from you since baby’s birth. The people, who are such cowards and so silly, fly from here in all available droschkies.

How I pray some end may soon come to this horrid bloodshed! Ah! the misery around us you can’t imagine. Henry has never received his discharge, and has gone unscathed, in spite of being so exposed through all these battles.

I myself am very well, and I don’t give way, though the anxiety about Louis leaves me no peace.

Baby is well and very pretty. The time she came at prevented a thought of disappointment at her being a girl. Only gratitude to the Almighty filled our hearts, that I and the child were well, and that dear Louis and I were together at the time. The times are hard; it wants all a Christian’s courage and patience to carry one through them; but there is one Friend who in the time of need does not forsake one, and He is my comfort and support. God bless you, my own Mama, and pray for your child,

Alice.

Friday, July 27th, 9 o’clock P.M.

At this moment the messenger has arrived, to leave again at five to-morrow morning. A thousand thanks for your dear letter, the first I have received since baby’s birth!

To-night (since Sunday no news of Louis) at length I have heard that dear Louis is well. These last four days they have been fighting again. I had a few lines from him. These last two nights he slept in a field, and the country is so poor, that they had nothing but a little bread during two days to eat. Now the Prussians, having made peace with Austria, and having refused it to us, are advancing on our troops from three sides.

I can scarcely write; this anxiety is killing me, and my love has been so exposed! All are in admiration of his personal bravery and tender attention to the suffering and want of all around. He never thinks of himself, and shares all the dangers and privations with the others.

Louis says they long for peace. He disapproves the different Governments for not now giving way to Prussia, and begs me to use my influence with Uncle Louis to accept Prussian conditions to spare further bloodshed.

From all parts of the country the people beg me to do what I can.

The confusion here is awful, the want of money alarming; right and left one must help. As the Prussians pillaged here, I have many people’s things hidden in the house. Even whilst in bed I had to see gentlemen in my room, as there were things to be done and asked which had to come straight to me. Then our poor wounded—the wives and mothers begging I should inquire for their husbands and children. It is a state of affairs too dreadful to describe.

The new anxiety to-night of knowing a dreadful battle is expected, perhaps going on, in which dear Louis again must be! I can scarcely bear up any longer; I feel it is getting too much. God Almighty stand by us! My courage is beginning to sink. I see no light anywhere; and my own beloved husband still in danger, and we cannot hear, for the Prussians are between us and them. Any thing may have happened to him, and I can’t hear it or know it! I could not go to him were he wounded.

What I have suffered and do suffer no words can describe—the sleepless nights of anxiety, the long days without news—how I pray it may soon end, and dear darling Louis be spared me!

In these days I have so longed to hear from you. It would have been such a comfort, and I longed for it much.

If we live, and peace is restored, the country and every thing will be in such a mess, and both of us in such want of change, that we must go somewhere; but we shall then, I fear, be next to ruined. You can’t think what war in one’s own country—in a little one like this—is! The want is fearful. I must go to bed, as it is late. I am well, so is the little one; but I can’t sleep or eat well all along; and the worry of mind and much to do keep me weak.

Oh, that we were together again! Good-bye beloved Mama. These next days I fear will be dreadful. May the Almighty watch over dear Louis! You will pray for him, won’t you?

P.S.—The standard of Louis’ cavalry regiment, which they did not take with them, and which is usually kept at the Schloss, is in my room for safety.

Forgive the shocking writing, but I am so upset to-night, since my messenger of Tuesday returned with Louis’ letter.

Darmstadt, August 4th.

* * * The linen, etc., for the wounded has arrived, and been so useful; a thousand thanks for it! Matters here change from one day to another, and I hope Louis may soon be able to return with the troops. Uncle Louis I do hope and pray will then return, and I hope he will regain the favor which he had lost, for any change now would be dreadful.

My father-in-law is really in such a state since these events, and his nerves so shattered, that my mother-in-law trembles for him, and tries to keep him out of all. He is so angry, so heartbroken at the loss of Oberhessen, which is probable, that he wishes not to outlive it. My poor mama-in-law burst into tears this morning in my room, where this scene took place.

I have just returned from having been to inquire after the wounded at the different hospitals and houses, which are filling fast as they can be brought from Aschaffenburg, Laufach, etc. As soon as I am better, I will go to them myself; but the close and crowded wards turn one easily faint.

Becker saw Louis three days ago, and accompanied him to Munich for a day. I hear he is well, though for six nights he had slept out of doors, and the last three nights it had poured incessantly; and all that time—on account of ours not having a truce, and expecting to be attacked—they were, being such a mass together, without provisions, barely a morsel of bread. I am so distressed about poor Anton Hohenzollern and Obernitz; so many acquaintances and friends have fallen on both sides, it is dreadful!

The town is full of Prussians. I hope they will not remain too long, for they pay for nothing, and the poor inhabitants suffer so much. There is cholera in the Prussian army, and one soldier lies here ill of it. I hope it won’t spread.

August 13th.

* * * It is fearful. Those who have seen the misery war brings with it, near by—the sufferings, the horror—know well what a scourge it is. May the Almighty spare our poor Germany this new evil! I forgot to thank you in Louis’ name, as he had told me, for your letter, which he found here on his return. He is to-day still at Berlin, and we are so grateful for your having written to good Fritz. What he can do I know he will.

Uncle Louis is still at Munich, and I don’t think he will abdicate; besides, he is at this moment doing what his country wishes.

I received a letter from Julie Battenberg, saying what Uncle Alexander had written to her about Louis: “Le Prince Alexandre m’écrit qu’il a obtenu du Grand Duc la démission de Perglas” (who commanded the troops so badly), “et la nomination du Prince Louis en commandement de nos troupes; il me dit à cette occasion que votre Mari pendant cette triste campagne s’est fait aimer et apprécier de tout le monde qu’il s’est fait une excellente réputation, et qu’il sera reçu à bras ouverts par la troupe.” * * * It is a large command for one so young, and with so little experience—all the more so, as we don’t know how long peace may last. He is sent to Berlin, as the country all look to Louis to prevent new evil; and all this without poor Louis having any direct position of heir to be able to enforce his opinion. He has no easy life of it.

The horse you gave Louis he rode in the different engagements, and praised him very much. He stood the fire quite well, but not the bursting of the shells close by.

About the children, the 23d is quite soon enough for their departure.

We shall not call baby “Irène,” unless all seems really peaceful, and at this moment it does not look promising. I am very sad and dismayed at the whole lookout. My mother-in-law was so pleased with your letter, and thanks you warmly for it.

Nierstein, Gelbes Haus, August 17th.

This dear day makes me think so much of you, of home, and of those two dear ones whose memories are so precious, and who live on with us, and make me often think that we had parted only yesterday.

We are so pleased at your saying that you claim Louis as your son. He always considers himself in particular your child, and if any thing helps to stimulate him in doing his duty well, it is the sincere wish of being worthy to claim and deserve that title. Darling Papa would be proud of him, and pleased to see how earnestly he takes his duties, and how conscientiously and unselfishly he fulfils them, for he has had and still has many trials—things I can tell you of when we meet again.

Life is such a pilgrimage, and so uncertain is its duration that all minor troubles are forgotten and easily borne, when one thinks what one must live for.

Before leaving Darmstadt yesterday to come here, we went to see some of the wounded again. One poor man had died since I was last there: he had been so patient, and had suffered so much. Another had had an operation performed and was very low—he was crying like a child. I could scarcely comfort him, he held my hand and always moaned out “Es brennt so” [It burns so]. Such nice people most of those young men are—very young, and for that class so well educated. All who are well enough are reading.

I must praise the ventilation and cleanliness in the different hospitals; in these things they have made wonderful progress here.

We are here in Rheinhessen, as Louis has to take his command. This place, Nierstein, lies between Worms and Mayence, and all our troops are quartered about here. Louis’ staff is at Worms, where he himself is to-day, and was already last night.

He was more hopeful about the prospects for Oberhessen on his return from Berlin, and had been so kindly received by dear Vicky and Fritz.

When Louis wrote his farewell to his cavalry brigade (who are so sorry to lose him), as a remembrance that he and they had stood in the field together for their first campaign, he asked these two regiments, officers and men, to stand sponsors to baby, as she was born during that time, and they are delighted, but wish the child to have one of their names! We wait till the troops can come home to christen baby on that account. * * * I don’t think we shall be here very long. Whenever the Prussians leave Darmstadt we can return.

Nierstein, Gelbes Haus, August 21st.

* * * We are here still, and all our troops, and Louis has a great deal to do. To-morrow the armistice is over, and at present we have no news as to its prolongation or the settlement of peace; but it must be one or other. A little private war of Prussia against us would be absurd and impossible, so the troops remain quartered in the little villages about here. The country here is so rich and fertile, the villages so clean, with such good houses; but the people are blessed with children to an extraordinary extent! It is the most richly populated part of all Germany, and there are more people on the square mile than in England.

The change of air—though it is but two hours from Darmstadt—has done me good, and if later, through your great kindness, a little journey should be possible to us, it would be very beneficial to both of us.

This house is quite close to the Rhine, and this instant our pioneers have come by from Worms on their pontoon bridge singing a quartett, about twenty or thirty men. It looks so pretty, and they sing so beautifully. On their marches the soldiers always sing, and they have so many beautiful songs, such as: “Der gute Kamerad.” The Germans are such gemütklich [simple, kindly, sociable] people. The more one lives with them, the more one learns to appreciate them. It is a fine nation. God grant this war, which has produced so many heroes, and cost so many gallant lives, may not have been in vain, and that at length Germany may become a mighty, powerful Power! It will then be the first in the world, where the great ideas and thoughts come from, free from narrow-minded prejudice, and when once the Germans have attained political freedom, they will be lastingly happy and united.

But the present state of things is sad, though one should not despair of some good resulting from it.

My letter is quite confused. I beg a thousand pardons for it, but I have been interrupted so often.

Gelbes Haus, August 29th.

* * * The children arrived well and safe, and in such good looks. It was a great pleasure to see them again; and I tried to make Victoria tell me as much as possible of dear Grandma and uncles and aunts, and when she is not absent-minded she is very communicative. How much we thank you, darling Mama, for having kept them and been so good to them I can’t tell you. This change has been so good for them; for now there are both cholera and small-pox at Darmstadt, which is still full of Prussian soldiers. More have come, and our peace is not yet concluded. I hope it is no bad sign, and that the hopes of losing less will not disappear.

We were only in Darmstadt for the day when the children arrived, and we go there for a few hours to-morrow on business. Louis has a great deal to do, and all the military things are in his hands.

I am not feeling very well. The air here after a few days is relaxing, and I begin to feel more what a strain there has been on my nerves during this time. I have such a pain in my side again. Mountain air Weber wants me to have, and quiet, away from all bothers; but I fear that is impossible now, on account of Louis not being able to leave—and then financially.

I have some Heimweh [home-sickness] after dear England, Balmoral, and all at home, I own, though the joy of being near dear Louis again is so great! But life is meant for work, and not for pleasure, and I learn more and more to be grateful and content with that which the Almighty sends me, and to find the sunshine in spite of the clouds; for when one has one’s beloved, adored husband by one’s side, what is there in the world that is too heavy to bear? My own darling Mama, when I think of darling Papa and of you, and that he is not visible at your side now, I long to clasp you to my heart, in some way to cheer the loneliness which is a poor widow’s lot. Oh, none in the world is harder than that!

Darmstadt, August 31st.

* * * Thank you for telling me how you spent that dear day; it must have been peaceful and solemn, the beautiful country harmonizing well with the thoughts of that great and beautiful soul which ever lives on with us. He remains nearer and nearer to me, and the recollection of many things dear Papa told me is a help and a stay in my actions, particularly of late. The separation seems so short. I can see him and hear him speak so plainly. Alas! my children have never seen him. Through you, darling Mama, and in your rooms, and at your side, they must learn to know him, that they may become worthy of their descent.

Yesterday we saw the children. Victoria is not quite well, but Ella is well, and won’t leave me when I come into the room; she keeps kissing me and putting her fat arms round my neck. There is each time a scene when I go away. She is so affectionate: so is dear Victoria. I send you a photograph of our smallest, who is such a pretty child, and very good.

The peace is not concluded yet; more Prussians have been quartered in and around Darmstadt. The people are very angry at this lasting so long * * * They believe it is Strafeinquartierung [done to punish us]. Nothing is settled as to what we keep or lose, and we know and hear nothing. Waiting here, uncomfortably lodged, the troops impatient to go home, as they have nothing to do, gets very irksome.

Gelbes Haus, September 8th.

* * * At last the peace is concluded, though not yet ratified. The terms are not so bad. We lose the Hinterland and the Domains there, as also the whole of Hesse-Homburg—in all sixty-four thousand souls—pay three millions contribution, besides having kept a large part of the Prussian army six weeks for nothing, which cost the country twenty-five thousand florins daily. For Oberhessen we go into the North-German Bund, and half the army is under Prussian command, which will make a dreadful confusion. Louis would prefer having it for the whole, particularly in anticipation, alas! of a coming war.

The railroads, posts, and telegraphs also become Prussian; and they demand, besides, some fine old pictures, books, and manuscripts, which had once belonged to the Kölner Dom, and were made a present of to this country years ago; and for our Domains no Entschädigung [compensation]. In exchange for Homburg we get some small places—amongst others, Rumpenheim.

When the peace is ratified and the money paid, the Prussians leave the country, which must now be very shortly. Until then Louis must stop here, and as he can only get leave now and then to go to Darmstadt, and that always uncertain, baby’s christening is still impossible, as Louis must be there. She will be called “Irène Louise Marie Anna.”

Gelbes Haus, September 11th.

* * * Tired of constantly putting off and waiting, we settled yesterday to have baby christened to-morrow, as it is Louis’ birthday, and to go for the day to Darmstadt. Though the Prussians are still there, some of the godfathers are coming over; otherwise it will be quite quiet.

* * * How true and sad is what you say, dear Mama, about life and its trials! Alas! that it should be you, dear, loving, kind Mama, who have had to drink so deeply of that cup of bitterness. Those who possess all they love, as I do, can, however, feel all the more keenly, and sympathize more truly with you for what you have lost, though it is a grief we do not know. How I do long always to alleviate this grief for you, dearest Mama; but that is the world’s trial. None can bear the burden for you. One must carry it one’s self; and it wants patience and courage to bear such as yours, dear Mama. I feel for you now more than ever since during that month I feared from day to day my happy life might be brought to a violent close, and anticipated all the misery that might come, but which the Almighty graciously averted.

Darmstadt, September 16th.

* * * That you sent Louis, besides the pretty souvenir, the money for something in the house is really so kind. Our whole dining-room we consider your present, and it is furnished as like an English one as possible.

The name Irene,64 through other associations, is one my parents-in-law and we like; it stands, besides, as a sort of recollection of the peace so longed for, and which I so gladly welcomed. It will always reminds us of the time, and of how much we have to be grateful for.

Darmstadt, September 24th.

* * * We are settled here again; our troops have returned and Uncle Louis likewise. The former were received most warmly by the inhabitants and showered with nosegays—Louis also, who rode at their head. We saw them all in front of the Schloss, and it was sad to see the thinned ranks and to miss the absent faces we knew so well. On the 13th and 14th of July, at Frohnhofen, Laufach, and Aschaffenburg, out of 8,000 we lost 800 men and 11 officers, and of the officers just those who were very intimate with the Prussians, and who wished Germany to be united under Prussia.

This afternoon we are going to see after the poor wounded, some of whom are still very ill with such horrible wounds. So much suffering and pain and grief to those poor people, who are innocent in this unhappy war!

If only now the other sovereigns will forget their antipathies and the wrongs they have suffered from Prussia, and think of the real welfare of their people and the universal fatherland, and make those sacrifices which will be necessary to prevent the recurrence of these misfortunes!

The poor Homburgers marched by with our troops, and their tears and ours fell as we saw them (who had fought so bravely under Uncle Louis) for the last time before they become Prussians, and return to their homes as such.

My parents-in-law are gone to Switzerland. Henry is become Colonel of the 2d Guard of Uhlans at Berlin.

October 1st.

* * * I can but write a few lines, as we are going with the children to Uncle Alexander to Jugenheim for a few days. The change of air is wanted for Ella, who is still pale; and Irene has never had any change yet, and is also rather pale.

We were at Frohnhofen and Laufach a few days ago to see where the unfortunate engagement was, and visited the graves of our soldiers. In the middle of a field there is a mound, below which some eighty men and some officers lie, and so on. It makes a very sad impression, for as our troops retreated, and they were buried by the people, none know which of the common soldiers or even which of the officers lie in the different places. We found some balls, and things the soldiers had thrown off during the fight. In one grave in the churchyard, the wounded who died afterward are buried. I asked who lay there, and the gravedigger answered “Ein Preuss’ und ein Hess’ liegen dort beisammen” [“A Prussian and a Hessian lie there together”], united in death, and fallen by each other’s hand, perhaps. Some of the officers who accompanied us, and had not been there since the engagement, were much overcome on seeing the graves of their comrades. I put wreaths and flowers on them, and ordered crosses where we knew who lay there.

The wounded here are recovering, and I go often to see after them.

As you say, this large Prussia is by no means an united Germany; but, nevertheless, I think the duty of the other German sovereigns, in spite of all, is to unite with Prussia and place themselves under her, so as to make her unite with Germany. Otherwise, the next opportunity, they will be annexed.

Heiligenburg, Jugenheim, October 7th.

* * * We return to town to-day, leaving the children for another week, as the air on the hill is so delicious. Louis has so much to do that he can’t remain away longer, though he went at half-past seven every morning to his office, returning for luncheon.

Darmstadt, October 22d.

On Thursday we are going to Waldleiningen for a fortnight and take Victoria with us. The two little girls knew your photograph at once, and began, of course, to talk of you and of England.

Waldleiningen, October 31st.

* * * It is quite beautiful here. We found dear Ernest, Marie and children well; the former so kind and dear, as they always are. Victoria and Alberta get on tolerably together. The little boy is splendid, so strong and fat.

The Castle is so fine and lies just in the midst of mountains and woods, and there are walks without end—many of them reminding me so much of Scotland.

The Nichels came to see us, and Marie and I played with Nichel 65; it reminded me so much of the good old times to see him.

Ella’s birthday is to be kept when we return. She is too small to know the difference of the day. I thank you beforehand for the locket for her with dear Papa’s picture. The children always speak of their two Grandpapas—dear Grandpapa in Heaven, and dear Grandpapa in Darmstadt. Victoria, hearing Papa so often mentioned, and seeing his pictures about everywhere, asks no end of questions about him.

Darmstadt, November 14th.

I am better, thank you, but I am so weak without the least reason, and dreadfully chilly. Still, I go out regularly in all weathers and take exercise, but of an evening I am quite knocked up.

We always breakfast at half past eight, as Louis gets up early and prefers it; so that I lead a very healthy life, and in spite of that am not well. A change quite into another climate, for a few months was what I really required; but it was impossible. On that account, dear Mama, I shall hope to have a full three months in England when we come, and perhaps part of the time with Bertie, if he can have us. I went through a great deal this summer during my confinement. The excitement and the will to keep well kept me so at the time, but I feel it now, alas! and show it, too, for I am getting so thin again.

Darmstadt, November 21st.

Dear Vicky’s birthday. She will think how happily she passed it at Windsor last year, and, though she has another child, it cannot replace to her what the other one was.

How glad I am to hear you praise dear Alix! She is so good, tactvoll [full of tact] and true. I love her very much.

I had the pleasure of seeing dear Countess Blücher for a few hours here last Sunday. She came during a dreadful snowstorm. The young King of Bavaria is coming here for the day to-morrow. * * *

The large pictures from Homburg—George III., Queen Charlotte, George IV., William IV., and the Duke of York en pied—Uncle Louis has given us, and now that I have given these good people, whom I don’t like, the best places in our rooms, I should so much like you and dear Papa, which you promised me some years ago from the last Winterhalters, or from those in the garter dress.

I look forward so much to seeing dear Bertie here, if only for a few hours. I suppose Monday or Sunday, if he travels day and night, as he leaves on Friday; it is a very long and cold journey.

November 22d.

A thousand thanks for the precious book,66 and for your dear lines. The former I have nearly finished. I got it yesterday morning, and you can well imagine that every spare moment was devoted to its study.

I think it very well done, and I am only sorry that General Grey cannot continue it, as the other persons, I believe, did not know dear Papa. The longer I live, the more I see and know of the world, the deeper my tender admiration grows for such a father. It makes me feel myself so small, so imperfect, when I think that I am his child, and am still so unworthy of being it. How many people here who like to hear of dear Papa, ask me about him, and you can understand with what pride and love I talk of him, and tell them things which make them all share our sorrow at not having him here any more! But if ever a life has outlived a man, dear Papa’s has done so. In my thoughts and aims he ever remains the centre and the guiding star. Dear beloved Papa, he never half knew, how much, even when a foolish child, I loved and adored him. His great life will be a model for many and many for generations to come, and his great thoughts and aims can leave none idle who knew them.

You kindly ask how I am. Better, thank you, since I have begun some bark—quinine I can’t take, or else I should have been well sooner.

Victoria I am teaching to read—in playing with cards with different letters on them.

November 30th.

To-day it is six whole years since we were engaged to each other in the Red Drawing-room at Windsor, when we in dear Papa’s little room afterward received your and dear Papa’s sanction to it. And the following year—how sad that already was, for darling Papa was beginning to be unwell. How constantly do I think of you, beloved Mama, during that fortnight of anxiety and sorrow! God mercifully spare you to us, though for yourself it was the commencement of the sad and lonely existence you lead without dear Papa.

I am sure it is good for little Henry 67 to be this winter with you in England: the Berlin climate is very unwholesome. Health is such a blessing. If one has children, the first wish is they should be healthy, for ill health influences all, and nothing more than temper.

We intend, if possible, going for a day or two to Carlsruhe. Poor Louise and Fritz went through so much that is painful this summer. * * *

I read an immense deal now of serious, and what some call dry, books; but it is a great resource to me, and the thought of standing still, if one does not study, urges me on. The long winter evenings we always spend together, and twice in the week receive in the evening, when I play on the piano duets with such as play on the violin, and pass the evenings very pleasantly.

Carlsruhe, December 6th.

Thousand thanks for your dear letter! I congratulate you on all having gone off so well at Wolverhampton,68 and am very grateful for the account. Dear Bertie’s visit is over, and it has been a very great pleasure to us to have seen him again, and to have him under our own roof—where we at length had an opportunity, in a small way, to return his hospitality and constant kindness to us. God bless him, dear brother! he is the one who has from my childhood been so dear to me.

We have come here, and I think it has pleased good Fritz. Louis seems very well. I saw Lady Fanny Baillie yesterday, looking dear and pretty as ever. It is a pleasure to look at her sweet face.

Carlsruhe, December 11th.

As every year during these days my thoughts are with you, and as each year brings round again the anniversary of that dreadful misfortune, it seems more and more impossible that five years should already have elapsed, since he whom we all loved so tenderly was taken from our sight. How I thank the Almighty again and again, as this season returns, that He spared you to us, when at such a moment, we trembled for your precious life, fearing that two so united in life even in death could not be parted. What should we poor children, what would the country have done, had that second misfortune come over us! Yet it seemed selfish and unkind to wish for your loving wife’s heart the solitary widow’s existence. How bravely and nobly you have borne it!

We leave this to-morrow morning, and have spent pleasant days here. There was much to talk about together, and Fritz is so excellent and so wise, that I am always glad to hear him. Dear Louise is well and in good looks, and most kind.

Now I must end beloved Mama. God bless you and comfort you, and in these days let sometimes the thought of your absent child, who was at your side during that dreadful time, mingle with the recollection of the past!

Darmstadt, December 14th.

Beloved, precious Mama:—On awaking this morning, my first thoughts were of you and of dear, darling Papa! Oh, how it reopens the wounds scarcely healed, when this day of pain and anguish returns! This season of the year the leafless trees, the cold light, every thing reminds me of that time!

Thousand thanks for your dear letter received yesterday. Well, only too well, do I remember every hour, almost every minute, of those days, and I have such an inexpressible longing to throw my arms round your neck, and to let my tears flow with yours, while kneeling at that beautiful grave.

The tender love and the deep sorrow caused by His loss remain ever with me, and will accompany me through life. At the age I then was, with its sensitive feelings, it made an impression which, I think, nothing can efface—above all, the witnessing your grief. Happily married as I am, and with such a good, excellent, and loving husband, how far more can I understand now the depth of that grief which tore your lives asunder! I played our dear Papa’s organ under his beloved picture this morning, and my heart and my thoughts were in dear England with you all.

We found our children well on our return, and Irène prospers perfectly on her donkey’s milk.

My mother-in-law is so much pleased with the book,69 and it has interested her very much. She came to see me early this morning on account of its being the 14th. She is always so kind and full of attentions.

Darmstadt, December 17th.

How dear of you to have written to me on the 14th; thousand thanks for your letter! How much I thought of all on that day you can imagine; also what good it did me to know that you still thought of me so kindly with those recollections. I am so sorry to hear that you are so suffering. I hope Osborne will do you good, and that rest and quiet will refresh you.

Darmstadt, December 21st.

* * * I hope by this time that you are quite recovered, though this mild damp weather is not made to give one strength. I feel it so much also, and am really only kept alive by steel, for off and on I am so weak that I nearly faint if I have to stand any time, and this is so unpleasant.

* * * I am trying to found what is no small undertaking: a “Frauen-Verein” to be spread all over the land in different committees, the central one being here under my direction, for the purpose of assisting the International Convention for nursing and supporting the troops in time of war, which was founded at Geneva, and to which this country also belongs. The duty in time of peace will be to have nurses brought up and educated for the task, who can then assist in other hospitals or amongst the poor, or to nurse the rich, wherever they may be required in time of war. This committee of women has to collect all the necessary things for the wounded and for the marching troops, has to see to their being sent to right places, etc.

All these things were done by private people in this war, and, though quantities of things were sent, the whole plan was not organized, so that there was want and surplus at the same time.

In time of peace these things should be organized, so that, when war comes, people know where to send their things to, and that no volunteer nurses go out who have not first learnt their business.

The same thing exists in Baden, in Bavaria, and in Prussia, and here it is much wanted. But all these undertakings are difficult, particularly in the choice of persons to assist one. Still I hope I shall be able to do it. My mother-in-law helps me, and I hope before long to be able to begin.

The Elector is coming here on a visit to-day, and Uncle Alexander returned from Petersburg last night.

Darmstadt, December 25th.

* * * I have a dreadful cold, and am not very well besides, so I can but scribble a few lines. To-day we go to the Bescheerung [distribution of Christmas gifts] to the wounded in three hospitals. Of course it will be very hot.

Henry is here for a few days. He looks so handsome in his new uniform with his dark beard. He has grown so good-looking these last few years, and he is so excellent. I am very fond of him. He is likewise so much gayer than formerly.

The good eatables you sent will be given to-night, when Louis’ parents and brothers come to us for dinner.

The children have a party for their tree.

Darmstadt, December 30th.

* * * May the Almighty give you every blessing of peace and comfort which the world can still give you, till you gain that greater blessing and reward above all others, which is reserved for such as my own sweet mother! May every blessing fall on my old dear home, with all its dear ones! May peace, and the glory which peace and order bring with it, with its many blessings, protect my native land; and may, in the new year, your wise and glorious reign, so overshadowed by dear Papa’s spirit, continue to prosper and be a model and an ornament to the world!

This year of pain and anxiety, and yet for us so rich in blessings, draws to a close. It moves me more than ever as its last day approaches. For how much have we not to thank the Almighty—for my life, which is so unworthy compared to many others, the new life of this little one, and above all the preservation of my own dear husband, who is my all in this life.

The trials of this year must have brought some good with all the evil: good to the individual and good to the multitude. God grant that we may all profit by what we have learnt, and gain more and more that trust in God’s justice and love, which is our guide and support in trouble and in joy! Oh, more than ever have I felt in this year, that God’s goodness and love are indeed beyond comprehension!

* * * I am really glad to hear that you can listen to a little music. Music is such a heavenly thing, and dear Papa loved it so much, that I can’t but think that now it must be soothing, and bring you near to him. * * *

1867.

The experiences of the late war had shown the necessity for an efficient and widespread organization for aid to the sick and wounded on the battlefield. Already in 1865 a society had been formed in Hesse, with Prince and Princess Charles as its patrons, in accordance with the resolutions passed at the Geneva Convention in 1863, and had done good work in the last war. The nursing of the wounded had hitherto been undertaken by “Deaconesses,” Sisters of Mercy, and orders of a kindred nature.

After the close of the war, those at the head of the committee (or Society) made themselves responsible, so far as lay in their power, for the wounded and disabled, and for the families of those who had fallen in the war. It was, however, felt to be very desirable that other committees should be formed throughout the country for the purpose of training specially-qualified nurses.

The Princess was deeply interested in this question—indeed, her whole attention had been directed to it since the beginning of the war, after she had seen what was done in Baden under the direction of the Grand Duchess. She had also before her the example of Florence Nightingale, and the good she had done during and after the Crimean war. The Princess was naturally fond of nursing, and of all that had to do with it, and she therefore eagerly took up the idea of founding a Frauen-Verein, or “Ladies’ Union”—an idea which, under her auspices, was soon most successfully carried out.

She wished lay women and ladies of all classes to join in this undertaking, so that the nursing should not be confined, as heretofore, to religious orders only. After much consultation a committee was formed in 1867, consisting of six ladies and four doctors, with the Princess as President. The central committee of the “Ladies’ Union” was to be at Darmstadt, under the Princess’ direction. The other committees spread over the whole country. Its object was to assist “the nursing and supporting of the troops in times of war,” and in times of peace to “train nurses, to assist other hospitals, or amongst the poor, or to nurse the rich”—in fact, to help wherever help was required. In 1868 the members belonging to the “Ladies’ Union” had greatly increased, and in 1869 they reached the number of 2,500.

The duties of the local committees consisted in collecting money and all necessary materials for the wounded or for the troops on the march. The central committee did its best in times of peace to direct the general attention to this most important question by lectures on the subject, delivered by medical men.

At the time the Princess started this undertaking she was also much occupied with another all-engrossing subject—viz.: the improvement of the condition of poor unmarried women and girls, as well as the education of girls in general. The Princess found an able assistant in Fräulein Louise Büchner—a most distinguished authoress, and the champion of women’s rights, more particularly of the higher education of women.

With her help the Princess formed another committee for the encouragement of “Female Industry.” A permanent Bazaar was established on the 25th of November, 1867, called after the Princess, “The Alice Bazaar,” for the purpose of receiving and disposing of articles of needlework at their proper value, and also for obtaining employment for women of all classes. The “Bazaar” soon became a flourishing institution.

At the beginning of the year 1867 the Prince and Princess went to Gotha, where they met the Crown Prince and Princess of Prussia for the first time since the war. They then went for a few weeks to Berlin. After the threatening rumors of war caused by the Luxembourg question had been dispersed, the Emperor Napoleon invited all the Sovereigns and Princes of Europe to visit the great International Exhibition at Paris. Prince and Princess Louis, amongst others, accepted the invitation, and were at Paris at the same time as the Emperor of Russia, the King of Prussia, and the Crown Prince and Princess of Prussia. The Prince and Princess visited many other places of interest and note at Paris besides the great Exhibition. All institutions for art had a great attraction for her, and she took up the idea most warmly of founding Schools of Design in her own country, as she hoped they would exercise a good influence there.

During the Prince and Princess’ visit the great review of the Imperial troops in the Bois de Boulogne took place; and on that day, too, the happily unsuccessful attempt on the Emperor of Russia’s life was made.

After attending all the festivities at the Imperial Court, where the Prince and Princess received every possible attention and kindness from the Emperor and Empress, they left Paris on the 10th of June, and, having met their children at Calais, crossed over to England. During this stay in England the Princess visited the German and many other Hospitals, and she also assisted in doing the honors for the Queen at several Court festivities. She was present at Windsor and Osborne during the visits of the Sultan, who had been so cordially received in England, and in whose honor a great naval review at Spithead was held.

Prince and Princess Louis returned to Darmstadt in the first days of August; and, having established their children there, they left for St. Moritz in the Engadine, where they intended to spend a month, and where the Princess was to take the baths.

Whilst there they made several excursions, travelling about quite simply, like any other tourists.

On their return to Germany, the Prince and Princess spent a few days with the Grand Duke and Grand Duchess of Baden on the island of Mainau on the Lake of Constance. During the autumn the Princess met several of her own brothers and sisters. She also went to Cassel to meet the Crown Prince and Princess of Prussia, who were returning from a visit to England.

Gotha, January 15th.

* * * It is a great happiness to be with dear Vicky and Fritz, and the future—that which is to be feared, that which must inevitably come—is of course our constant talk. Whatever comes, our position, and that of other small sovereigns, must undergo a change, which for the older ones will be very hard, and which they will ever feel. Even dear Louis, who is so sensible and reasonable, says he has been brought up with particular rights, which for centuries have been ours, and he feels sore that he is never to inherit them.

Dear aunt seems very well, and is ever like a second mother to us, so loving and kind; also dear uncle. Papa’s and your children are dear to him almost as though they were his own; and he lives to see us with our families and in our homes, whereas darling Papa does not. Yesterday the Braut von Messina was given—that beautiful piece which Papa was so fond of. I thought so much of you.

On Thursday Vicky and Fritz go to Berlin. We remain here until Sunday afternoon, as on Sunday is the Ordensfest; and as many will be decorated who fought against us, Louis thought it better to arrive after the ceremony. Hermann is here still. He has been to see Feo,70 who has been very ill. Fritz William [the Crown Prince] saw Ada and Fritz Holstein at Carlsruhe, and Fritz and Anna of Hesse—all four turned out of their countries. * * *

I am delighted to hear of dear Arthur having passed so good an examination. How proud you must be of him! And the good Major,71 who has spared no pains, I know—how pleased he must be! Arthur has a uniform now, I suppose.

Berlin, January 26th.

* * * We remain here a little longer, probably until the following Saturday, as the King, owing to his cold, could not see us often, and begged us to remain longer.

I saw Amalie Lauchert 72 here two days ago, looking so well, and charming as ever.

Little Vicky is such a darling, very like her poor little brother—so merry, so good, one never hears her cry—and it is really a comfort to Vicky to have that dear little thing. Poor Vicky is very sad and low at times.

After intense cold it is quite warm, like spring, which is very unwholesome and tiring.

Darmstadt, February 16th.

* * * I think I can understand what you must feel. I know well what those first three years were—what fearful suffering, tearing and uprooting those feelings which had been centred in beloved Papa’s existence! It is indeed, as you say “in mercy,” that after the long storm a lull and calm ensues, though the violent pain, which is but the reverse side of the violent love, seems only to die out with it, and that is likewise bitter. Yet, beloved Mama, could it be otherwise? There would be no justice or mercy, were the first stage of sorrow to be the perpetual one; and God grant, that time may still soothe and alleviate that which it cannot change! I can only imagine what the loss must be, if I measure it by the possession of that one adored being, who is the centre and essence of my existence.

Darmstadt, February 28th.

* * * Yesterday we had a very interesting lecture in our house about Art in Venice, by a young Swede [Herr von Molin], who has been studying three years in Italy. We had the room full of people, artists, and professors, who liked to listen.

* * * All the natural cleverness and sharpness in the world won’t serve nowadays, unless one has learnt something. I feel this so much; and just in our position it is more and more required and expected, particularly in a small place, where so much depends on the personal knowledge and exertions of the Princes.

Darmstadt, March 8th.

* * * The knowledge of dear sweet Alix’s state makes me too sad. It is hard for them both, and the nursing must be very fatiguing for Mrs. Clarke. I am so distressed about darling Alix that I really have no peace. It may, and probably will, last long, which is so dreadful.73

March 28th.

* * * We mean to have some children on the 5th, so that Victoria can have a party.

My father-in-law is better again, I am happy to say. The warm weather did him good at once.

Darmstadt, April 1st.

* * * I could not write the other day, as I had a good deal to do with two committees for charities, which had to be got into order, and which took up a great deal of my time.

Cold, hail, snow, and rain, have returned; and Irène has got a cold, which most people here have. The weather is so unpleasant.

We shall stop here in town until we go to England, as we have nowhere to go to before. It is a pity for the children to have no country air, and they miss the flowers in their walks. I can’t praise Orchard 74 enough. Such order she keeps, and is so industrious and tidy, besides understanding so much about the management of the children’s health and characters.

Darmstadt, April 5th.

Thousand thanks for your dear letter, and for the kind wishes for Victoria’s birthday! I pray she may be a worthy granddaughter and goddaughter of my darling Mamma! I shall never forget that day—your kindness to us, and the tender nurse you were. * * *

Victoria means to dictate a letter to you; she is so much pleased with her presents. Irène has not a tooth yet, and is not very fat, poor little thing! but she is fresh and rosy, and, I think, strong.

This last week the excitement here has been dreadful, as all anticipated a war with France on account of Luxembourg. I fear sooner or later it will come. May the Almighty avert such a calamity!

The Moriers were quite in ecstasies about your handsome present. The christening 75 went off very well.

April 8th.

* * * We have just returned from church, and to-morrow morning we all take the Sacrament at nine o’clock in the Schlosskirche. Professor Jowett is here on a visit to the Moriers, and is going to read the service on Sunday. I have not had an opportunity to attend our English service since we were at Windsor, excepting one Sunday at Berlin with Vicky and Fritz.

People think now, the evil of war is put off for a few weeks, but that is all. Henry is here for Easter, and says the same from all he heard at Berlin.

April 21st.

* * * How I wish you may be right in not believing in war. I always fear it is not Luxembourg, but the intense jealousy of the French nation, that they should not be the first on the Continent, and that Germany is becoming independent and powerful against their will. Then, again, the Germans feel their new position, and assert their rights with more force because unanimous, and neither nation will choose to give in to the other.

The war would be totally useless, and sow no end of dissension and hatred between the two neighbor countries, who, for their own good as for that of mankind, ought to live in peace and harmony with each other.

We seem drifting back to the Middle Ages, as each question is pushed to the point of the sword. It is most sad. How dear Papa would have disapproved of much that has happened since 1862!

Is the Catalogue which Mr. Ruland sent some time ago to Mr. Woodward for dear Papa’s Raphael Collection in print now?76 So many people know of its coming out, and are anxious to see it, as, indeed, I am likewise, for it is the only complete collection in the world, and the world of art is anxious to know all about it. Will you, perhaps, let me know through Mr. Sahl,77 as I believe it is already a good while since you approved of its being published, and gave the orders for its being printed?

May 2d.

As yet none dare to be sure of the peace, but all live again since there are more chances for its being maintained. But, then, I trust it will be a permanent peace, not merely a putting off till next year!

The French press was so very warlike, and it always talks of the French honor not being able to allow such a mighty empire as the German is becoming to gain the upper hand; and then rectification of her frontiers, always wishing for the Rhine.

Poor little Anna of Mecklenburg is here; it seemed so sad to see the dear little child come alone to inhabit the rooms its Mama had never returned to. She looks delicate, very fair, but with dark, thick eyebrows and eyelashes; rather shy and silent for she has no little children to play with in her home. My two led her about at once, and tried to amuse her. Ella, who is five months older, is a head taller and twice as broad. I am so afraid they will be too rough with her, for dear, fat Ella is very strong, and by no means gentle.

Annchen has an old nervous nurse, who is too frightened about her. It is a great responsibility, where there is no mother. It looks so sad!

May 13th.

I must tell you something in confidence of what has taken place here with regard to Louis. * * * Since Louis took the command last August, and since the Convention with Prussia has been settled, Louis has been opposed by Uncle Louis and the Kriegsministerium [War Department], in doing all the things which he thought absolutely necessary, and which toward Prussia the Grand Duke had promised to do, so as to get the troops into the necessary order and organization. Here the Government is, Louis has reason to fear, once more playing a false game toward Prussia, and all his true friends and a small party of the clever-thinking people have encouraged him in the idea that to serve his country, he may and must not be implicated in the present sad and desperate state of affairs.

It has cost him a great struggle to make up his mind to ask Uncle Louis to accept his resignation, which he has been obliged to demand, as he felt that under present circumstances he could not fulfil what was desired of him.

Uncle Louis may refuse to let him go; then he intends to ask for leave until the 1st of October, the date when the Convention must be carried out, when he hopes and trusts the King will send a Prussian general to put all in order.

Uncle Louis and his Umgebung [the people about him] will all be against my Louis, as they think it a shame and injustice to give up any of their rights, and that it is unpardonable of Louis to act up to what he has always said. He is so good a nephew, that all this will be dreadfully painful to him; but he is quite convinced that his duty to his country and his future demands this step of him. He is obliged to go away from here, as he does not think it right for him to be always in opposition to Uncle Louis, and as he cannot gain by it what the country and the troops require. On account of all these reasons he considers it right to leave.

He wished me to write all this to you, as he knows you will understand and not disapprove the confidence he bestows on one, on whose opinion he quite relies. He looks forward so much to coming to England, as he is worried and harassed by all that has happened. In all this he has again shown, as of old, that he always places himself and his wishes and feelings in the background, and that to serve others and to do his duty are the sole aims of his existence. He will, as soon as he has received an answer from the Grand Duke, telegraph to you to settle our plans. The children are overjoyed at the prospect of seeing their dear Grandmama again.

I am not up to very much, I don’t always feel quite strong; but the change will do me good, I am sure.

May 16th.

The Grand Duke has not as yet consented to Louis’ resignation. Louis has made conditions, under which it will be possible for him to remain, if Uncle L. consents. The first condition is to have a Prussian officer at his side. The Grand Duke declared he would sooner lose his country than give his consent to that. Louis has now officially written his letter of requirements, and sent it. But, whatever happens, he will be able to get a short leave, he thinks, by the beginning of June.

May 19th.

The military affair is at length settled. Uncle Louis has given in to the points Louis demanded, and he retains his command. All are astonished at Louis’ unlooked-for success in this affair, and as Uncle L. would not have a Prussian General, and had no one here to take in Louis’ stead, who could do the things well, he had to agree and to allow what Louis was justified in asking. Louis’ firmness and decision have done great good, and all are thankful to him for it, though others, who ought to do as he has done, have never shown the courage.

Louis is laid up with the most awful nettle-rash all over face and body, and is so unwell with it. He has had it now three days. Altogether since the winter, or rather since the war, he has had so much cause for vexation, that he has been constantly unwell; and each time he is much worried he has an attack of illness.

May 29th.

* * * I presided at my committee of seven ladies and four gentlemen a long while yesterday, and to-morrow I have my other one, which is more numerous. It is an easy task, but I hope we shall have good results from our endeavors.

Paris, June 9th.

I really am half killed from sight-seeing and fêtes, but all has interested me so much, and the Emperor and Empress [of the French] have been most kind. Yesterday was the ball at the Hôtel de Ville, quite the same as it had been for you and dear Papa, and there were more than 8,000 people there. It was the finest sight I have ever seen, and it interested me all the more, as I knew it was the same as in the year when you were at Paris.

Every morning we went to the Exhibition, and every evening there was a dinner or ball. It was most fatiguing. To-morrow morning we leave, and had really great trouble to get away, for the Emperor and Empress and others begged us so much to remain for the ball at the Tuileries to-morrow night; but we really could not, on account of Wednesday’s concert,78 as we should barely arrive in time.

The attentat on the Emperor of Russia was dreadful, and we were close by at the time. The Empress can’t get over it, and she does not leave Uncle Sache’s 79 side for an instant now, and takes him everywhere in her carriage.

To-day we are going with the whole Court to Versailles. Dear Vicky is gone. She was so low the last days, and dislikes going to parties so much just now, that she was longing to get home. The King [of Prussia] wished them both to stop, but only Fritz remained. How sad these days will be for her, poor love! She was in such good looks; every one here is charmed with her.

[During the months of June and July, 1867, the Princess with her family was on a visit in England.]

Darmstadt, August 4th.

We arrived here at midnight on Friday and I was so knocked up * * * that I was incapable of doing any thing yesterday.

* * * My poor Willem 80 was buried yesterday. Every one regrets the poor child, for he was very dear. I miss him so much here, for he did every thing for me, and liked being about me and the children. All our servants went to the burial. It quite upset me here not to find him, for I was really attached to him, and he learnt so well, and was in many ways so nice, though of course troublesome too at times. How short life is, and the instant one is gone, he is so wiped away for others, and one knows so absolutely nothing about the person any more! Were it not for a strong faith in a future, it would indeed be cruel to bear. No one of the family is here. We leave to-morrow for Zürich, where we shall be at ten at night; the next day to Chur, and the next day to St. Moritz.

St. Moritz, August 1st.

With perfect weather we accomplished our journey perfectly, and were enchanted with the beautiful scenery from Zürich here, not to speak of this place.

The first day—5th—we left Darmstadt at 11 A.M., and did not reach Zürich till eleven at night. We got two little rooms in the Hôtel Baur, but the whole place was full. The next morning after breakfast we went to look at the lovely lake, which is green and quite transparent. It was a beautiful warm morning. We left by rail at ten, partly along the lake of Zürich and then along the Wallenstädter See, which is long and narrow, with high perpendicular mountains down to the water—very wild and picturesque. This lake likewise is of that marvellous green color. We reached Chur at three that afternoon—a pretty small town, situated close up against a mountain. We visited a beautiful old church there, which contains fine old pictures and relics; it was built in the time of the Romans, and is still the chief church of the bishopric.

The next morning we two, with Sarah, Logoz and our footman, left at six o’clock in a diligence (we both sitting in the coupé in front) with four horses, for here the road is the grandest one can imagine, perpetually ascending for two hours, and then descending again, always along precipices, and the horses at a quick trot turning sharp round the corners—which, I assure you is a trial to the best nerves. We drove over the Julier Pass, which was a road already used by the Romans, and which is almost the highest in Switzerland. One passes close to the top of the mountains, which have snow on them, and are wild and rugged like the top of Lochnagar. Lower down, the mountains are covered with bright green grass and fir trees, but rocks look out everywhere, and there are constantly lovely water-falls.

After crossing the Pass, we drove down—very steep, of course nothing on the edge of the road, always zigzag, and at a sharp trot—for some distance down to Silva Plana, where the view over the valley and lakes of the Engadine, where St. Moritz lies, is beyond description beautiful.

We reach this in the evening at six o’clock, the weather being most beautiful. The Curhaus is below the town, and looks like a large asylum. It is overfilled with people. We have two rooms, but our people as yet, none, though they hope for some to-morrow.

I saw Dr. Berry, a little Swiss man, and he recommended me to take the baths twice a week, besides drinking the waters; which I have begun this morning at seven o’clock, the usual hour, as one has to walk up and down a quarter of an hour between the glasses. The bath I took at ten. It is tepid and also iron water, which bubbles like soda water, and makes one feel as if insects were crawling over one.

Lina Aumale is here, the Parises and Nemours. Fritz and Louise [of Baden] leave to-morrow. This afternoon we drove with them, in two funny little “Wageli” with one horse, to Samaden, where Louise went into the hotel to see Mme. d’Usedom, who was lately upset with her carriage off the road, as there is no barrier, and hurt herself severely. We saw her brother likewise.

I have sent you a nosegay of Edelweiss and other Alp flowers. I hope it won’t arrive quite dead. You must fancy them alive, and, if they could speak, they would tell you how much I love you, and how constantly I think of you, and of my dear, dear home!

St. Moritz, August 11th.

* * * All the Orleans’ left this place suddenly yesterday, as there are three cases of scarlatina in the house. We consulted the doctor immediately, whether he thought it safe for Louis to remain, he never having had it, and he said, “Perfectly, as we are at the other end of the house, and out nearly all day.”

Victor and Lolo [Count and Countess Gleichen] are here, and we went out drawing together yesterday; but it is too difficult here. I think constantly how much you would admire this place: it is indeed exquisitely beautiful—much the finest I have ever seen. It is very wild and reminds me in parts of dear Scotland.

You say that our home in England is dull now for those who like to amuse themselves. It is never dull, darling Mama, when one can be with you, for I have indeed never met a more agreeable charming companion. Time always flies by when one is with you. I hope it is not impertinent my saying so.

St. Moritz, August 13th.

* * * I knew you would feel for me at the loss of my poor Willem. Of course one must feel that sort of loss more than that of many a relation, if one knew the latter but little. I said to Louis at the time, that Willem’s death distressed me more than would that of several relations who were not intimate with me. * * *

Yesterday we and the Gleichens went to the Rosegg Glacier, and to get there had to go from Pontresina in little Bergwagen, which are strong miniature Leiterwagen without springs, and we went over a horrid path with quantities of stones, so the shaking was beyond description.

Victor and Lolo go mostly with us and we always dine together.

I take three glasses beginning at seven in the morning, and a bath at eight. One lies in a wooden thing, covered over up to one’s chin with boards, and remains so twenty minutes.

We lunch at twelve and dine at half-past six, and go to bed early. We are out nearly all day long. It is very warm, the sun scorching; my face is quite red-brown, in spite of veils and parasols. I feel already very much better, and Louis says my face is quite fat. I wish we could remain longer than the end of the month, but Louis must be home.

I hope you notice the pains I take with my writing, for you complained of it at Osborne—I fear, justly—and I am trying to improve it again.

St. Moritz, August 16th.

Yesterday we made a beautiful expedition, which it may amuse you to hear of, as in an exaggerated way it reminded me of our nice Scotch ones. The evening before we left with Victor and Lolo (without servants) about eight o’clock for Pontresina. The country looked more beautiful than ever in the brightest moonlight. We found two very small but clean rooms in an hotel outside the village.

The next morning we got up at half-past four, dressed, and breakfasted, then got on four horses with most uncomfortable saddles, with our guide Adam Engler, an amusing man, most active and helpful. We saw the sun rising over the snow-covered mountains, and the valleys gradually coming out clearer.

We were to ascend the Piz Languard, a mountain 1,200 feet high. We rode for two hours by a worse and much steeper road than up the Glassalt, then walked over rocks, sand, and slippery grass, so steep that one could not look up to see where one was going to, quite precipitous on each side, leaving snow and glacier below us. The last bit has a sort of immensely high steps hewn in the rock. After an hour and a half’s hard labor we reached the summit, which is rocky and small—enormous precipices all round. Poor Lolo was giddy for some time, which was very unpleasant. The view from the top is most extensive. The Italian, Swiss, and Tyrolese Alps are all to be seen, but the view was not very clear. We rested and ate something, and drank some Lochnagar whisky. The sun was getting intense. We commenced our descent at eleven o’clock, and had to walk the whole way back, for one can’t ride down. We did not reach Pontresina till nearly four, as we had to rest several times, our limbs ached so, for there is no level ground the whole way, and the stones slip, and it was very hot. I had quite sore feet with blisters all over, so that the last hours were really agonizing. But it is a thing to have done, and the view amply repaid one, though one does not feel tempted to do it a second time. I feel very well, excepting my face, (which is still burning and quite red), and my unfortunate feet.

Poor Christa wrote to me yesterday, and says:—

“I must also tell your Royal Highness that I have received a letter in her own hand from Her Majesty the Queen. I cannot express how deeply this has moved me and filled me with gratitude. God bless the Queen for her rare human love; for surely there is no one, who in such a position as hers, has preserved a heart like hers, so full of kindness and sympathy for others.”81

Dear sweet Mama, your kind and sisterly words have been balsam to many a wounded heart, and many are the blessings that have been craved for you from above by hearts filled with thankfulness for your true sympathy.

St. Moritz, August 21st.

* * * Now I will tell you of our expedition. Louis and I, Victor and Lolo, and a guide, with each a small bag, left this early on the morning of the 17th (dear Grandmama’s birthday) in a carriage for Pontresina; from thence, in two of those shaky Bergwagen, over part of the Bernina Pass, past the magnificent Morteratsch Glacier, which we saw perfectly. The guide told us he had been there with Professor Tyndall, and that the latter had observed that the glacier advanced a foot a day in the warm weather, and old people recollect it having been a mile higher up. We soon left the high-road, and all vegetation, save grass, for a bad path into the Val da Fain. The heat was again intense. We lunched and rested, and then took the horses out of the carts for us ladies to ride. The scenery was wild and severe, until we began again to descend, and came down upon the lovely Livigno Valley, which is Italian, and covered with brown châlets. We reached the village of Livigno, with only wooden huts, by six o’clock, and turned into a funny little dark inn, in which we four found one small but clean room for us—most primitive. As the inhabitants speak a sort of Italian, we had the greatest difficulty to make ourselves understood. Victor cooked part of the dinner, and it was quite good.

We all slept—I resting on a bed, the other three on the floor—in this little room, with the small window wide open.

The next morning we left at nine, and drove on no road in such a small carriage—of course, no springs—our husbands at first getting a lift on the horses, without saddles; then on foot up a steep and dangerous ascent. Splendid weather, but too hot. We went over the Pass of the Stretta: a more difficult and rough ground I never crossed in my life, but splendid scenery. We came on a view which was glorious—such enormous snow-covered mountains and glaciers, with the green valleys deep below looking on Italy and the Tyrol.

We reached Bormio by seven, and took up our residence at a bathing-place, quite magnificently situated, very high up—also Italian. The next morning we started early in carriages, and went over the Stelvio Pass. There, nearly at the risk of my neck, I picked for the first time some Edelweiss, which I am very proud of, as it is always difficult and rare to get.

We got down to St. Maria, which is at the upper end of the Münsterthal and belongs to Switzerland. In the afternoon, dreadfully hot, I was very thirsty and drank off a glass of milk; but how it tasted! It was goat’s milk; the people keep the cow’s milk for butter and cheese. We remained the night there, and left the next morning for here, by Zernetz and Ofen. To get from one valley into another, one has always to ascend and descend enormous heights, and always by narrow paths at the edge of precipices. We enjoyed our tour immensely, and got on perfectly without servants. Packing up my things, though, every morning was a great trouble, and the bag would usually not shut at first. The trees growing here are splendid larches and arven 82; the latter grow only in these very high regions and in Siberia. Victor and his wife are most amiable and pleasant travelling-companions, and pleased with every thing; not minding to rough it, which we had to do.

Schloss Mainau, August 30th.

* * * We left St. Moritz at seven, and reached Chur at seven in the evening. The next day we came on here to Louise of Baden. Fritz is at Carlsruhe. This place is very lovely, though, alas! the fine mountains are gone, which one always misses so much.

I thought of you more than I can say on the dear 26th, and I felt low and sad all day. Dear Papa! Time has not yet accustomed us to see each anniversary come round again, and he still remain away. It is so inexpressibly hard for you, and you must feel such intense longing for the dear past. There remains a future! that is the only consolation.

To-day we went with Louise by carriage, and then across part of the lake to the property of the Emperor Napoleon, Arenenberg, which the Empress gave him eight years ago, and which was his home with his mother, and where she died. Every picture and bit of furniture is replaced as it was when the Emperor lived there, and he was there himself and replaced every thing. It is quite a page in history to see all the things that surrounded the Emperor in the days of his misfortune.

Darmstadt, September 8th.

* * * I spent three days and two nights with dear Alix at Wiesbaden, and I find her leg decidedly better. * * * It is a little less hot to-day, but much hotter even now than we ever have in England. Stallmeister Meyer 83 came to see us yesterday, and we took him out riding, which made him quite happy. Any one who reminds me of the good old times before the 14th of December does me good; it is a pleasure to speak about those past, so happy days! When they came to a close, I lost the greater part of my joyousness, which, though I am so happy, has never returned. A certain melancholy and sadness sometimes overcome me, which I can’t shake off; then I have Heimweh after adored Papa to such an extent that tears are my only relief.

Darmstadt, September 20th.

* * * The King of Prussia’s visit went off very well here, and both high personages seemed pleased to have got over the meeting. The King came most kindly to see us, and went over all our rooms, which seemed to amuse him. * * * Yesterday evening Sache and Minnie 84 arrived, and we intend going over to see them all to-morrow.

Louis will retain the command, but, according to the King’s advice, has demanded a Prussian General Stabschef [Chief of the Staff], which will be a great assistance to him.

At the sale of the Homburg things I bought a lovely miniature of dear Grandmama in a black velvet gown, with a red shawl over her shoulder—shortly after her marriage, I think.

Darmstadt, October 3d.

Yesterday evening I returned from Wiesbaden, leaving Alix well, but having caught a bad cold myself. The children have equally heavy ones.

Darmstadt, October 8th.

Many thanks for your letter just received, and for the review of dear Papa’s Life, which is excellent, and which I sent on to Aunt Feodore, as you desired. I have been laid up for a week with influenza, and am only about again since yesterday, though not out of the house. I am quite weak from it. The whole house is laid up with bad colds, and baby can’t shake her’s off at all. The cough is so tiring, and she whoops whenever she coughs. Poor Jäger, who is, alas! we fear, consumptive, broke a blood-vessel two days ago, and is dangerously ill, to the great grief of all in the house. He is our best servant, and so devoted; he never would take care of himself, as he could not bear letting any one but himself attend on Louis. We have just got a Diakonissin [Deaconness] to nurse him; on account of his great weakness he can’t be left alone one instant.

Sir William, Lady, and Charlotte Knollys have been on a visit to us; also Lady Geraldine Somerset for two nights. They are all interested to see our house.

Uncle George has made me a present of one of the horses the Sultan sent him.

Darmstadt, October 10th.

I can’t find words to say how sorry I am that dear sweet Arthur should have the small-pox! and that you should have this great anxiety and worry. God grant that the dear boy may get well over it, and that his dear handsome face be not marked! Where in the world could he have caught it? The Major kindly telegraphs daily, and you can fancy, far away, how anxious one is. I shall be very anxious to get a letter with accounts, for I think constantly of him, and of you. My parents-in-law wish me to tell you how they share your anxiety, and how they wish soon to hear of dear Arthur’s convalescence; of course my Louis likewise, for he shares all my feelings, being a real brother towards my Geschwister [brothers and sisters].

We both paid the King of Prussia our respects at Frankfort this morning, principally to tell him that Bertie had been so grieved at the ill success of his intended visit, as the Queen begged us to do.

I am better to-day, but Ella and Irène can’t shake off their colds, and poor Ella is altogether unwell. Victoria is all right.

We are going on the 18th to Baden for Fritz’s birthday.

Darmstadt, October 14th.

How glad I am to see by your letter that darling Arthur is going on so very well. One can’t be too thankful; and it is a good thing over, and will spare one’s being anxious about him on other occasions.

Bertie and Alix have been here since Saturday afternoon, and leave to-morrow. They go straight to Antwerp, and Bertie is going back to Brussels to see the cousins.

The visit of the King went off very well, and Alix was pleased with the kindness and civility of the King. I hear that the meeting was satisfactory to both parties, which I am heartily glad of. Bearing ill-will is always a mistake, besides its not being right.

Dear Alix walked up our staircase with two sticks, of course very slowly, but she is improving wonderfully, though her knee is quite stiff.

Poor Jäger is a little better, and the momentary danger is past, though I fear he cannot ultimately recover. How hard for poor Katrinchen! There is much sorrow in the world, and how often such a share falls to the best and gentlest! I, of course, go to see him daily, but it always goes to my very heart to see that attached and faithful creature dying slowly away. How is Brown’s sister?

We hope that Countess Blücher will return here with Vicky and me from Baden for a few days, as it is an age since Vicky has seen her.

Dear Alix is writing in my room at this moment, and is so dear and sweet. She is a most lovable creature.

Darmstadt, October 23d.

I have had the pleasure of having Augusta and the Dean [Stanley] here since yesterday, but they leave again this morning.

The King of Prussia is here to-day, and there is a large dinner for him in the Schloss, and he is kind enough to come and see me afterward.

The accounts of poor dear Aunt Feodore are so sad, and I hear she does not look well, and is so low about her eyes and being unable to see you again after so long a separation. She seems alone and lonely, with old age and sickness coming over her. If I had been well, I should have gone to see her. I am much better these last days. I can breathe much better, but the dreadfully swelled ankles and wrists remain as bad as before, and cause great discomfort and even pain. I never had this before.

Schweinsberg, October 24th.

Dear Vicky and Fritz left us yesterday morning. It is such a pleasure to me to think that they, like Bertie and Alix, know my house, and that they have lodged under our roof. When will you, darling Mama? If ever again you go abroad and wish to rest on your way, all in the world we have is at your disposal. How happy that would make us!

We ourselves left at four yesterday afternoon, remaining the night at Marburg, and leaving at a quarter to five in the morning, so that Louis could reach Alsfeld in time to join the shooting-party. We parted at Kirchhain, and I came here with Christa to her mother’s house—so sad and changed since three years ago. It is most kind of them to have taken me up here, and the bracing air will do me good. They know that I can understand what a house of mourning is, and that I don’t want to amuse myself.

Ella cried on parting with us yesterday, and wanted to get into the train with us.

Victoria is going to have a little lesson every other day, when I go back, from Mr. Geyer, who taught poor Willem, and who teaches little girls particularly well. She must begin in my room, as it is better not to have lessons in the nursery, I think. Vicky and I spoke much together about education and taking a governess. I thought to wait a year (for financial reasons), and I think it time enough then—do not you?

Darmstadt, October 26th.

* * * We arrived late at Baden, and Vicky and Fritz, who had had two long days’ journey, were very tired; but we had to go to dress at once, to go to a soirée at Madame Viardot’s, which lasted till midnight, and at which the King and Queen were present. Her daughters and scholars sang a little operetta she had composed, which was very pretty.

I hope the inauguration of the statue went off as well as the weather would permit.

November 15th.

* * * It is so good and wholesome not always to be one’s own master, and to have to suit one’s self to the wish of others, and, above all, to that of one’s mother and sovereign. —— feels it as such, and often told me so, regretting how seldom such was the case.

The Moriers are often with us, and we value them much; they are such pleasant companions, and such excellent, clever people.

Darmstadt, December 6th.

* * * The visit to Claremont must have been quite peculiar for you; and I can fancy it bringing back to your mind the recollections of your childhood. In spring it must be a lovely place, and, with gayer papers on the walls, and a little modern comfort, the house must likewise be very pleasant. Ella, who was breakfasting with me just now, saw me dip my Bretzel in my coffee, and said: “Oh, Mama, you must not! Do you allow yourself to do that?” because I don’t allow her to do it. She is too funny, and by no means quite easy to manage—a great contrast to Victoria, who is a very tractable child. Ella has a wonderful talent for sewing, and, when she keeps quiet a little while, sews quite alone and without mistakes. She is making something for you for Christmas, which she is quite excited about. Victoria’s little afternoon lesson answers admirably, and is the happiest time of the day for her. She can read words already.

We have snow and ice, and no sunshine since some time, and it is not inviting to take the dull walks in the town. But I make a rule to go out twice a day, and keep nearly the same hours as at home.

The account of your visit to Lady Palmerston and to her daughter is most touching. It is so inexpressibly sad for grandmother and mother, for it is unnatural for parents to survive their children, and that makes the grief a so peculiar one, and very hard to bear.

December 9th.

* * * During the long winter days, when Louis is away sometimes four times in the week from six in the morning till six in the evening, and then when he returns from his shooting has his work to do, I feel lonely. I am often for several hours consecutively quite by myself; and for my meals and walks only a lady, as she is the only person in the house besides ourselves. It is during these hours, when one cannot always be reading or at work, that I should wish to have some one to go to, or to come to me to sit and speak with; but such is not the case, and it is this I regret—accustomed as I was to a house full of people, with brothers and sisters, and above all, the chance of being near you. I always feel how willingly I would spend some of those hours with or near you—and the sea ever lies between us! When Louis is at home and free—for in the morning I don’t see him—then I have all that this world can give me, for I am indeed never happier than at his dear side; and time only increases our affection, and binds us closer to each other.

We have deep snow now and sledging the last two days.

December 12th.

Before going to rest, I take up my pen to write a few loving words that they may reach you on the morning of the 14th. The sound of that date brings with it that sad and dreary recollection which, for you, my poor dear Mama, and for us, time cannot alter. As long as our lives last, this time of year must fill us with sad and earnest feelings, and revive the pain of that bitter parting.

I ought not to dwell on those hours now, for it is wrong to open those wounds afresh, which God in His mercy finds little ways and means to heal and soothe the pain of.

Dear darling Papa is, and ever will be immortal. The good he has done; the great ideas he has promulgated in the world; the noble and unselfish example he has given, will live on, as I am sure he must ever do, as one of the best, purest, most God-like men that have come down into this world. His example will, and does, stimulate others to higher and purer aims; and I am convinced that darling Papa did not live in vain. His great mission was done; and what has remained undone he has placed in your dear hands, who will know best how to achieve his great works of love and justice. I shall think much, very much, of you on the 14th, and you will be more in my prayers than ever. Think also a little of your most devoted child!

Darmstadt, Christmas Day.

We missed poor Willem so much in arranging all the things; and poor Jäger’s illness was also sad. We gave him a tree in his room. He looks like a shadow, and his voice is quite hoarse.

To two hospitals, the military and the town one, I took presents yesterday, and saw many a scene of suffering and grief. My children are going to give a certain number of poor children a Bescheerung on New Year’s Day. It is so good to teach them early to be generous and kind to the poor. They even wish to give some of their own things, and such as are not broken.

Your many generous presents will find their use at once, and the Christmas pie, etc., be shared by all the family. The remembrances of those bright happy Christmases at Windsor are constantly before me. None will ever be again what those were, without you, dear Papa, and dear kind Grandmama.

Darmstadt, December 27th.

* * * I am sure you will have felt under many a circumstance in life, that if any momentary feeling was upon you, and you were writing to some one near and dear, it did you good to put down those feelings on paper, and that, even in the act of doing so, when the words were barely written, the feeling had begun to die away, and the intercourse had done you good.

1868.

Although the winter season brought many social duties with it, the Princess’ active personal attention to all those good works and institutions which she had called into existence never flagged. No subject of interest or importance escaped her, and her time was always fully occupied. In April she met the Crown Prince at Gotha, where Prince Louis also came, on his return from Munich, to fetch her. She spent the months of June and July in England with her three little girls, either at Osborne, Windsor, or in London. The return journey to Darmstadt was made by water as far as Mayence. The autumn was spent at Kranichstein, in the neighborhood of which the manœuvres of the Hessian division took place, at some of which the Princess was present.

On the 25th of November, to the great joy of the parents and the country, a son and heir was born—“a splendid boy.” At his christening, on the 28th of December, he received, at the special desire of the Grand Duke, the names Ernst Ludwig—which had been borne by so many of the old Landgraves of Hesse. The sponsors were the Queen of England and the King of Prussia.

Darmstadt, January 24th.

* * * To-night I am going to act with two other persons in our dining-room a pretty little piece called “Am Klavier,” but I fear I shall be very nervous, and consequently act badly, which would be too tiresome.

I have never tried to act in any thing since “Rothkäppchen.”

February 14th.

What a fright the news of dear Leopold’s dangerous attack has given us! Mr. Sahl’s letter to Becker arrived yesterday afternoon containing the bad news, and he spoke of so little hope, that I was so upset and so dreadfully distressed for the dear darling, for you, poor Mama, and for us all, that I am quite unwell still to-day.

When your telegram came to-day, and Louise’s letter, I was so relieved and only pray and hope that the improvement may continue. May God spare that young bright and gifted life, to be a comfort and support to you for many a year to come!

Had I only had a telegram! for, the letter being two days old, until your telegram came I passed six such agonizing hours! Away from home, every news of illness or sorrow there is so difficult to bear—when one can share all the anxiety and trouble only in thought.

The day passes so slowly without news, and I am always looking toward the door to see if a telegram is coming. Please let me hear regularly till he is quite safe; I do love the dear boy, as I do all my brothers and sisters, so tenderly!

How I wish you had been spared this new anxiety! Those two days must have been dreadful!

Darling Mama, how I wish I were with you! God grant that in future you may send us only good news.

Louis and my parents-in-law send their respectful love and the expression of their warmest sympathy, in which the other members of the family join.

February 2d.

How glad and truly thankful I am, that the Almighty has saved our darling Leopold and spared him to you and to us all! For the second or even third time that life has been given again, when all feared that it must leave us! A mother’s heart must feel this so much more than any other one’s, and dear Leopold, through having caused you all his life so much anxiety, must be inexpressibly dear to you, and such an object to watch over and take care of. Indeed from the depth of my heart I thank God with you for having so mercifully spared dear Leo, and watched over him when death seemed so near!

You will feel deeply now the great joy of seeing a convalescence after the great danger, and I know, through a thousand little things, how your loving and considerate heart will find pleasure and consolation in cheering your patient.

That for the future you must ever be so anxious is a dreadful trial, but it is to be hoped that Leo will yet outgrow this strange illness. I am sure good Archie 85 takes great care of him, and by this time he will have gathered plenty of experience to be a good nurse.

Baby is better, but her poor head and face are perfectly covered with spots, and she was in despair with the smarting and itching, and of course rubbed herself quite sore. Ella has it slightly since this morning.

Darmstadt, February 13th.

* * * First let me wish you joy for the birth of this new grandson,86 born on your dear wedding-day. I thought of you on the morning of the 10th, and meant to telegraph, but those dreadful neuralgic pains came on before I had time to look about me, and really laid me prostrate for the whole day, as they lasted so very long. I have never felt so unwell, or suffered so much in my life, and this moment, sitting up in Louis’ room, I feel more weak than I have ever felt on first getting up after my confinements. Quinine has kept me free from pain to-day, and I hope will do so to-morrow. I have been in bed a week and touched absolutely nothing all the time. Yesterday evening, as throughout the day, I had had (but much more slightly) a return of these agonizing attacks, which seized my left eye, ear, and the whole left side of my head and nose. I got up and sat in Louis’ room; I could only bear it for two hours, and all but fainted before I reached my bed. If I can get strength, and have no return of pain, I hope to go out after to-morrow. I could not see the children or any one during this week, and always had my eyes closed, first from pain, and then from exhaustion when the pain left me. I really thought I should go out of my mind, and you know I can stand a tolerable amount of pain.

February 17th.

* * * I am so distressed that you remained so long without news. I was really for a whole week quite incapable of any idea about any thing, and had mostly my eyes shut, and was constantly alone, as I could not bear any one in the room.

General Plonsky, the Corps Commandant from Cassel, came here unexpectedly, and Louis, being under his command, was so taken up during those days, besides an immense deal of military business, that I never saw him more than a few minutes in the morning; and during his free time in the afternoon he sat, like the best nurse in the world, near my bed in the dark room, putting wet rags on my head and trying by every possible means to alleviate my pains. He was touching in the great care he took of me. Louis and Harriet did all for me, and I could bear no one else about me. You see, poor Louis had no time to write, and he always thought that I should be well the next day and write myself.

Darmstadt, February 24th.

To my and, I fear, dear Vicky’s great disappointment, Dr. Weber won’t let me go to Berlin, and wants me to go to Wiesbaden for a cold-water cure instead. The latter will be intensely dull, as I shall be there for four weeks all alone; but I believe it will be very beneficial, as with every year I seem to get more rheumatic, which at my age is of course not good.

We shall hope to be able to come to Windsor, middle of June, as you desire. The exact time you will kindly let us know later.

Darmstadt, March 9th.

* * * Louis left yesterday morning for Munich. It is a twelve hours’ journey. There is a procession on foot at the funeral, going to the church through the town, which will last about two hours, and then a very long ceremony in the large, cold Basilica.87

Darmstadt, March 14th.

I send you a few lines to-day for the 16th, the anniversary of the first great sorrow which broke in upon your happy life. How well do I recollect how I accompanied you and dear Papa down to Frogmore that night, our dinner in the flower room, the dreadful watching in the corridor, and then the so painful end! Darling Papa looked so pale, so deeply distressed, and was so full of tender sympathy for you. He told me to go to you and comfort you, and was so full of love and commiseration as I have never seen any man before or after. Dear, sweet Papa! that in that same year we should live together through such another heart-rending scene again, and he not there to comfort or support you, poor Mama!

It sometimes, even at this distance of time, seems nearly impossible that we should have lived through such times, and yet be alive and resigned.

God’s mercy is indeed great; for He sends a balm to soothe and heal the bruised and faithful heart, and to teach one to accommodate one’s self to one’s sorrow, so as to know how to bear it!

Darmstadt, April 2d.

* * * Louis is in a most unpleasant crisis with the Ministry and the Grand Duke. I don’t know how it will end.

Darmstadt, April 5th.

Only two words to-day, as my heart is so full of love and gratitude to you who took such care of me this day five years ago, who heard Victoria’s first cry, and were such a comfort and help to us both. All these recollections make Victoria doubly dear to us, and, as in this world one never knows what will happen, I hope that you will always watch over our dear child, and let her be as dear to you as though she had been one of us.

We have spent the day very sadly and quietly together. Louis’ affairs have taken such a turn that he has been obliged to tender the Grand Duke his resignation, as he does not consider it compatible with his honor to remain, under existing circumstances. He has made a great sacrifice to his duty and honor, but doing one’s duty brings the reward with it of a clear conscience.

April 3d.

* * * The King of Prussia has sent General von Bonin here to speak seriously with the Grand Duke, and prove to him through papers, etc., that he has not kept his word, and that he has been very badly advised, and that Louis was quite in the right. The result has been that the poor Grand Duke is scandalized at the state of affairs, and that he really seems to have been more in the dark than was supposed. He gives Louis the command again, sends away the whole Kriegsministerium [War Department], to be reorganized more simply, and with other people, according to Louis’ proposals; and so all military affairs will be in order, and Louis have much greater power to carry out all that has to be done.

We are so pleased at all having turned out thus far well, and know that you will share our feelings. Louis gets more work and a great responsibility; but he has proved himself so capable in every respect, so active and hard-working, that I think and trust he will overcome all difficulties.

I go alone to Gotha, and Louis will follow as soon as he can, so as to spend my birthday there.

I am so distressed at dear, good Sir James [Clark’s] illness. I hope and trust that this precious old friend will still be spared for a few years at least.

Gotha, April 25th.

* * * It is now eleven years since I spent my birthday with dear Vicky, and she has been so dear and kind, and dear Aunt and Uncle likewise. We spend the day quite quietly together, and the bad weather prevents any expeditions.

After to-morrow we go home.

Darmstadt, May 4th.

Accept my best thanks for your last letter written on dear Arthur’s birthday. The playing of the band I am sure gave him pleasure; but it would be too painful for all ever to have it again on the terrace as formerly. There are certain tunes which that Marine Band used to play, which, when I have chanced to hear them elsewhere, have quite upset me, so powerful does the recollection of those so very happy birthdays at Osborne remain upon me! Those happy, happy days touch me even to tears when I think of them. What a joyous childhood we had, and how greatly it was enhanced by dear, sweet Papa, and by all your great kindness to us!

I try to copy as much as lies in my power all these things for our children, that they may have an idea, when I speak to them of it, of what a happy home ours was.

I do feel so much for dear Beatrice and the other younger ones, who had so much less of it than we had!

Darmstadt, May 11th.

For your sake I am sorry that my condition should cause you anxiety, for you have enough of that, God knows. But I am so well this time that I hope and trust all may go well, though one is never sure. It is this conviction which I always have, and which makes me serious and thoughtful, as who can know whether with the termination of this time my life may not also terminate?

This is also one of the reasons why I long so very much to see you, my own precious Mama, this summer, for I cling to you with a love and gratitude, the depth of which I know I can never find words or means to express. After a year’s absence I wish so intensely to behold your dear, sweet, loving face again, and to press my lips on your dear hands. The older I grow the more I value and appreciate that mother’s love which is unique in the world; and having, since darling Papa’s death, only you, the love to my parents and to adored Papa’s memory is all centred in you.

Louis has leave from the 11th of June to the 11th of August.

Uncle Ernest is coming here to-day for the day, from Frankfort, where he has been to a cattle-show. Uncle Adalbert is here, so much pleased with having seen you again, singing the praise of both Lenchen and Louise, which of course I joined in, as it is such a pleasure to hear others admire and appreciate my dear sisters.

Darmstadt, May 14th.

I know you will be grieved to hear that we all have had the grief of losing good, excellent Jäger.88 He was, on the whole, better and was out daily, and he went to bed as usual, when in the middle of the night he called one of the men, and before they could come to his assistance he expired, having broken a blood-vessel. Poor Katrinchen’s despair and grief were quite heart-rending, when we went together to see our true and valued servant for the last time. I was so upset by the whole, that it was some days before I got over it. We made wreaths to put on his coffin, which was covered with flowers sent from all sides, and we both were at the door with our servants when he was carried out, and tried to console the poor, unfortunate Braut [bride], who remained at home.

He was the best servant one could find; never, since he has been in our service, had he been found fault with by any one. He was good, pious, and gentle, and very intelligent. The death of a good man, who has fulfilled his allotted duty in this world as a good Christian ought, touches one deeply, and we have really mourned for him as for a friend, for he was one in the true sense of the word. Jäger rests alongside my poor Willem, in the pretty little cemetery here; a bit of my heart went with them.

Fritz, on his way back from Italy, spent a few hours with us, and told us much of his journey. He heard the strangest rumors of France intending to break out in sudden hostilities with Germany, and asked me what you thought of a probability of a war for this summer. I hope to God, that nothing horrid of that sort will happen! Do you think it likely, dear Mama?

Darmstadt, May 19th.

My own darling and most precious Mama, the warmest and tenderest wishes that grateful children can form for a beloved parent we both form for you, and these lines but weakly express all I would like to say. May God bless and watch over a life so precious and so dear to many! It is now six years since I spent that dear day near you, but I hope that some time or other we shall be allowed to do so. Our joint present is a medal for you with our heads. We had it made large in oxidized silver on purpose for you. I myself have braided and embroidered, with Christa’s help (who begged to be allowed to do something for you), a trimming for a dress, which I hope you will like and wear. It took a deal of my time, and my thoughts were so much with you while I was doing it, that I quite regretted its completion.

We are having a bracelet with our miniatures and the three children’s in it made for you, but unfortunately it is not finished, so we shall bring it and give it to you ourselves.

Darmstadt, May 29th.

* * * The intense heat remains the same, and becomes daily less endurable here in town—the result on my unfortunate person being a very painful rash which itches beyond all description. I hope it won’t increase.

How I envy you at Balmoral! the very thought of that air makes me better.

Osborne, August 6th.

I was just sitting down to write to you when Ernest came in with your dear letter. Thousand thanks for it! These parting lines will be such a clear companion to me on our journey. I can’t tell you how much I felt taking leave of you this time, dear Mama; it always is such a wrench to tear myself away from you and my home again. Where I have so, oh, so much to be thankful and grateful to you for, I always fear that I can never express my thanks as warmly as I feel them, which I do indeed from the bottom of my heart. God bless you, darling Mama, for all your love and kindness; and from the depth of my heart do I pray that nothing may cause you such anxiety and sorrow again as you have had to bear of late. * * *

When I left you at the pier the return to the empty house was so sad! It felt quite strange, and by no means pleasant, to be here without you and all the others. We lunched alone with Victoria, and dined in the hot dining-room with the ladies and gentlemen, sitting on the terrace afterward.

It has rained all the morning, and is most oppressive. As it is so foggy, we have to leave at two; but there is no wind, and I hope the sea will be quite smooth. I am sure you must feel lonely and depressed on this journey, poor Mama; but the change of scene and beautiful nature enjoyed in rest and quiet must surely do you good.

Kranichstein, August 10th.

* * * We left Osborne at two on Thursday in rain and wind. The children and I were dreadfully sick an hour after starting, but the passage got smoother later; and, though I was very wretched in every way, I was not sick again. The same sort of weather on the Alberta next morning, but it cleared up later. The Rhine steamer was very comfortable, and Doctor Minter accompanied us to Dordrecht. The last afternoon and night on board I suffered dreadfully. Since I arrived here, I am better, but not right yet. Had it not been for your great kindness in giving us the ship, I am sure I should not have got home right. This awful heat adds to my feelings of fatigue and discomfort.

Kranichstein, August 11th.

I have just received your letter, from Lucerne, and hasten to thank you for it.

How glad I am that you admire the beautiful scenery, and that I know it, and can share your admiration and enjoyment of it in thought with you! It is most lovely. The splendid forms, and the color of the lake, are two things that we don’t know in dear Scotland, and which are so peculiar to Swiss scenery.

Louis is in town from eight till our two o’clock dinner, and has a great deal to do.

For your sake as for my own I long for a respite from this unbearable heat, which is so weakening and trying.

Kranichstein, August 16th.

* * * How satisfactory the accounts of dear good Arthur are! From the depth of my heart do I congratulate you on all that Colonel Elphinstone says about his character, for with a real moral foundation, and a strict sense of duty and of what is right and wrong, he will have a power to combat the temptations of the world and those within himself. I am sure that he will grow up to be a pride and pleasure to you, and an honor to his country.

Brown must have been glad to be allowed to continue wearing his kilt, and, as it is a national dress, it is far more natural that he should give it up nowhere. I am sure that he and Annie 89 must admire the place.

Kranichstein, August 26th.

I have just received your dear letter, and am so pleased to hear that you enjoyed your excursion, and that you have now seen the sort of wild scenery high up in the mountains, which I think so beautiful and grand in Switzerland. For all admirers of that style of scenery there is nothing to be compared to Switzerland.

Since it became cool again I have had neuralgia in my head, and I have had a dreadful sty, which had to be cut open, and made me quite faint and sick for the whole day. In spite of it I went to the station here, with a thick veil on, to see the Russian relations pass two days ago. The Emperor looks even more altered and worn since last year, and is suddenly grown so old.

Kranichstein, September 4th.

* * * How too delightful your expeditions must have been! I do rejoice that, through the change of weather, you should have been able to see and enjoy all that glorious scenery. Without your good ponies and Brown, etc., you would have felt how difficult such ascents are for common mortals, particularly when the horses slip, and finally sit down. I am sure all this will have done you good; seeing such totally new beautiful scenery does refresh so immensely, and the air and exertion—both of which you seem to bear so well now—will do your health good.

Yesterday we both were two hours at Jugenheim. To-day the two little cousins are coming to see my children.

Louis’ business is increasing daily, and until the 19th, manœuvres, inspections, etc., won’t be over. He will even have to be away on his birthday, which is a great bore. There is a great review for the Emperor on Saturday.

September 15th.

* * * Like a foolish frightened creature as I am, I have worried myself so much about this sudden talk of war and threatening in all the French papers, saying that October, November, or thereabouts would be a good time to begin. Do tell me, if you think there is the least reasonable apprehension for any thing of that sort this year. I have such confidence in your opinion, and you can imagine how in my present condition I must tremble before a recurrence of all I went through in 1866!

I am so grieved that you should be so unwell on the journey home. Dear beautiful Scotland will do you good. I envy your going there, and wish I could be with you, for I am so fond of it. Remember me to all the good people.

Darmstadt, October 28th.

* * * The Queen of Prussia is coming to lunch with us on Saturday on her way to Coblenz.

I have a cold these last days, and Victoria is still confined to the house with her swelled neck. She had quite lost her appetite, and I tried some porridge for her, which she enjoys, and I hope it will fatten her up a little, for she is so thin and pale. Would you please order a small barrel of oatmeal to be sent to me? Dr. Weber thinks it would be very good for Victoria, and one cannot get it here.

Darmstadt, November 20th.

It is with the greatest interest that I read about the Mausoleum,90 as I was very anxious to know whether all would be finished. Having been present before at all the important steps in the progress of this undertaking, I feel very sorry to be absent at the last, and I shall be very impatient to see it all again.

Winter has quite set in now here, and when there is no wind the cold is very pleasant.

Darmstadt, December 4th.

Thousand thanks for all your dear kind wishes, for your first letter to me, for the one to Louis, and finally for the eatables! I can’t tell you how touched, how pleased we both are at the kind interest all at home have shown us on this occasion. It has really enhanced our pleasure at the birth of our little son, to receive so many marks of sympathy and attachment from those in my dear native home, and in my present one. My heart is indeed overflowing with gratitude for all God’s blessings.

The time itself was very severe, but my recovery is up to now the best I have ever made, and I feel comparatively strong and well.

The girls are delighted with their brother, though Victoria was sorry it was not a sister. Darling Louis was too overcome and taken up with me at first to be half pleased enough. Baby is to be called by Louis’ Uncle Louis’ wish, Ernst Ludwig, after a former Landgrave;91 then we would like you to give the name Albert; Charles, after my father-in-law; and William, after the King of Prussia, whom we mean to ask to be godfather. The christening is most likely to be on the 28th, or thereabout.

I am on my sofa in my sitting-room with all your dear photos, etc., around me, and your pretty quilt over me.

December 12th.

* * * Every new event in my life renews the grief for dear Papa’s loss, and the deep regret that he was not here to know of all, to ask advice from, to share joy and grief with, for he was such a tender father, and would have been such a loving grandfather.

You, darling Mama, fill his place with your own, and may God’s support never leave you, and ever enable you to continue fulfilling the many duties toward State and family! The love of your children and people encircles you.

Darmstadt, December 18th.

* * * The presents you intend giving baby will delight us, and in later years I can tell him all about his Grandpapa, and how I wish and pray he may turn out in any way like him, and try and aim to become so.

I think it would be best, perhaps, if you asked my mother-in-law to represent you and hold baby. I think it would pain her, should any one else do it, and I will ask her in your name, if you will kindly telegraph me your approval.

I am sorry Arthur cannot come, it would have given us such pleasure had it been possible.

The greater part of baby’s monthly gowns have been put away, as from the beginning they were too small. He is so very big.

Christmas Day.

* * * Louis thanks you thousand times, as we do, for the charming presents for the children. They showed them to every one, shouting: “This is from my dear English Grandmama”; and Ella, who is always sentimental, added: “She is so very good, my Grandmama.” Irene could not be parted from the doll you gave her, nor Victoria from hers. Baby was brought down, and was wide awake the whole time, looking about with his little bright eyes like a much older child.

We spent a very happy Christmas eve, surrounded by the dear children and our kind relations.

Darmstadt, December 29th.

* * * Prince Hohenzollern with three gentlemen were sent by the King, and the former dined with us after the ceremony. All went off so well, and baby, who is in every way like a child of two months, looked about him quite wisely, and was much admired by all who saw him.

I am so sorry that you have never seen my babies since Victoria, for I know you would admire them, they look so mottled and healthy. Weather permitting, baby is to be photographed to-morrow.

1869.

The winter passed quickly and quietly amidst many occupations.

In May the Prince and Princess, with their children, went on a visit to the Crown Prince and Princess of Prussia at Potsdam, where they spent four happy weeks. Whilst they were there, the Viceroy of Egypt paid a visit to Berlin. Later in the summer they went to Silesia, and spent some time at Fischbach, a property belonging to Princess Charles of Hesse, whose sister, the Queen of Bavaria, and brother, Prince Adalbert of Prussia, joined them there. During their stay, the Prince and Princess made excursions into the neighboring mountains, and ascended the Schneekoppe; and the Prince and his brothers visited the battlefield of Königsgrätz. On the way back to Darmstadt they visited Dresden, to see the King and Queen of Saxony at their country seat, Pillnitz, an hour’s drive from Dresden.

In August, the King of Prussia for the first time personally inspected the Hessian troops. The Prince commanded the troops at the manœuvres in Upper Hesse, at the conclusion of which they paraded before the King of Prussia at Bergen.

Some weeks later, the Prince and Princess of Wales and their family paid Prince and Princess Louis a visit at Kranichstein. The opening of the Idiot Asylum built by the Princess took place on the 15th of October in her presence and that of the Prince. It had been arranged that Prince Louis should accompany the Crown Prince of Prussia on his journey to the East, on the occasion of the opening of the Suez Canal. He started on the 9th of October for Venice. The two Princes visited Corfu, Athens, and Constantinople, and were received with every possible honor in the capitals of Greece and Turkey. They went on to Jaffa, and thence to Jerusalem, Hebron, Damascus, and Baalbec, and finally, on the 15th of November, they arrived at Port Said, where they met a large number of other Princes. A journey up the Nile as far as the first and second cataracts brought their travels to an end. They returned home by way of Naples, and through Italy.

During the absence of the two Princes, the Crown Princess of Prussia and Princess Alice, with her little son, went to Cannes. Whilst there, the Princess devoted herself entirely to the care of her child. Being together with her sister, and in that sunny country, made up somewhat for the long separation from her husband. The Princes joined the two Princesses at Cannes shortly before Christmas. The new year saw them all at home again.

Darmstadt, January 8th.

* * * Dear charming Lady Frances [Baillie] is on a visit with us, and I enjoy having her so much. We talk of old times at Frogmore, and so many pleasant recollections.

I am glad that you like baby’s photograph, though it does not do him justice. He is a pretty baby on the whole, and has a beautiful skin, very large eyes, and pretty mouth and chin; but his nose is not very pretty, as it is so short at present. He is a dear good child, and, though immensely lively, does not give much trouble. He is a great source of happiness to us, and I trust will continue so.

Darmstadt, January 13th.

* * * Is not the death of Leopold’s son shocking?92 Such suffering, such a struggle for months between life and death; and for the poor parents to have in the end to relinquish their child, their only son! I think it heart-rending. May the Almighty continue to support them even now, as he did these many months! I cannot say how much and truly I feel for them both. This world is full of trials, and some seem to be called upon to suffer and give up so much. Faith and resignation alone can save those hearts from breaking, when the burden must be so heavy.

A few days ago at two o’clock we had another shock [of earthquake], and it seemed as if the house rocked; at the same time the unearthly noise. I think it uncommonly unpleasant, particularly this repetition.

January 30th.

Our thoughts and prayers are so much with you and dear Leopold on this day [his Confirmation]. May the Almighty bless and protect that precious boy, and give him health and strength to continue a life so well begun and so full of promise!

It seems to me quite incredible, the eighth of us should already be old enough to take this step in life, and to have his childhood in fact behind him. Dear Papa’s blessing surely rests on him, and his spirit is near you as you stand there alone by the side of his child, about whom he always was so anxious.

February 5th.

* * * Beloved Papa’s cast arrived a few days ago, and stands in my bedroom. I think it very beautiful, and thank you so warmly for having sent it me.

Poor Orchard, whose leg is very painful and swelled, is to go to bed for a week for entire rest of the limb. You can imagine how inconvenient this is, as we have only Emma and Kathrinchen for the others and baby. You will be amused when I tell you that old Amelung is coming to sleep with baby, and take charge of him; but she is too old and out of practice to be able to wash and dress him morning and evening besides, so I do that, and it is of course a great assistance to all, my being able to do it, and I don’t mind the trouble. Of a morning, as Louis is usually out riding or at his office, I take Victoria and Ella out, who are very good little girls and very amusing.

Darmstadt, March 8th.

* * * We shall go to Potsdam the first week in May, and from there go for a week or ten days to Fischbach. My mother-in-law, Tante Mariechen, and Uncle Adalbert, are all going to spend my mother-in-law’s birthday there.

The Moriers are going to England in the first days of April, and I hope that you will see them. We see a good deal of them, and like them both much. He is wonderfully clever and learned, and takes interest in every thing; and she is very agreeable, and a most satisfied, amiable disposition—always contented and amused.

March 19th

I thought of you so much on the 16th. From that day dated the commencement of so much grief and sorrow; yet in those days you had one, darling Mama, whose first thought and deepest was to comfort and help you, and I saw and understood only then how he watched over you, and how and everywhere he sought to ward off all that was painful and strange from you, and took all that pain alone for himself for your sake! I see his dear face—so pale, and so full of tears, when he led me to you early that morning after all was over and said, “Comfort Mama,” as if those words were a Vorbedeutung [presage] of what was to come. In those days I think he knew how deep my love was for you, and that as long as I was left in my home, my first and only thought should be you and you alone! This I held as my holiest and dearest duty, until I had to leave you, my beloved Mother, to form a home and family for myself, and new ties which were to take up much of my heart and strength.

But that bond of love, though I can no more be near you, is as strong as ever.

Darmstadt, March 23d.

* * * Yesterday it was very warm, and to-day it snows; the weather continues so changeable and many people are ill. Ella has again had one of her bad attacks in her throat, but, thank God, it passed away very soon. Two nights ago she could not speak—barely breathe—and was so uncomfortable, poor child. It makes one so anxious each time; but I hope she will outgrow it, when she is six or seven years old.

Victoria is already now composing a letter for your birthday. I won’t have her helped, because I should like you to see her own ideas and style—it is much more amusing.

March 26th.

* * * We had such an unexpected pleasure the other day in the visit of good General Seymour, and I was so pleased to see some one who had seen you lately, and who could give me news of my home. He had not been here since he came with us after our marriage, and was of course interested in seeing every thing.

April 2d.

* * * The constant anxiety about the children is dreadful; and it is not physical ill one dreads for them, it is moral: the responsibility for these little lent souls is great, and, indeed, none can take it lightly who feel how great and important a parent’s duty is.

Darmstadt, April 5th.

* * * Thousand thanks for your dear letter, and for all the tender wishes for our dear child’s birthday! The child born under your roof and your care is of course your particular one, and later, if you wish to keep her at any time when we have been paying you a visit, we shall gladly leave her.

Victoria is so delighted with what you sent her, and sends her very warmest thanks and her tenderest love. She is in great beauty just at present, as she is grown stouter; and I look with pleasure on those two girls when they go out together. They possess, indeed, all we could wish, and are full of promise. May the Almighty protect them and give them a long life, to be of use and a joy to their fellow-creatures!

April 16th.

* * * Rain and wind have at length cooled the air, for this heat without any shade was too unpleasant. Louis left at five this morning to inspect the garrison at Friedberg and Giessen, and then to go to Alsfeld to shoot Auerhähne [capercailzies]. He will return on the 21st or 22d probably.

We shall indeed be so pleased, if later you wish to have any of the granddaughters with you, to comply with any such wish, for I often think so sadly for your dear sake, how lonely it must be when one child after another grows up and leaves home; and even if they remain, to have no children in the house is most dreary. Surely you can never lack to have some from amongst the many grandchildren; and there are none of us, who would not gladly have our children live under the same roof where we passed such a happy childhood, with such a loving Grandmama to take care of them.

April 25th.

* * * May I only know the way to give my children as much pleasure and happiness as you have ever known to give me!

The dinner of family and suite is here in the house to-day—or rather I should call it a luncheon, as it is at two o’clock.

The Irish Church question, I quite feel with you, will neither be solved nor settled in this way; and instead of doing something which would bring the Catholics more under the authority of the State, they will, I fear, be the more powerful. It seems to me that one injustice (with regard to the Protestants) is to be put in the place of a former one, instead of doing justice to both, which would not have been an impossibility through some well-considered settlement and giving in on both sides. Such a changement requires so much thought and wisdom, and, above all, impartiality.

May 3d.

* * * My children are, on the whole, very well behaved and obedient, and, save by fits and starts, which don’t last long, very manageable. I try to be very just and consistent in all things toward them, but it is sometimes a great trial of patience, I own. They are so forward, clever, and spirited, that the least spoiling would do them great harm.

How glad I am that the dear Countess [Blücher] is with you again; she is the pleasantest companion possible, and so dear and loving, and she is devoted to you and dear Papa’s memory as never any one was.

Potsdam, May 25th.

How much we thought of you yesterday, I can’t say! Lord Augustus Loftus lunched with us three and the elder children; and we drank your health, the band playing “God Save the Queen!” All our girls had wreaths of natural flowers in honor of the day.

Potsdam, June 1st.

* * * To-day is regular March weather, and the palace is cold and draughty.

We were in Berlin yesterday, to visit the Gewerbe-Museum [Industrial Museum]; then luncheon at Lord Augustus Loftus’, and from thence to the Victoria bazaar and Victoria Stift, and then home.

It is always so tiring to see things at Berlin; an hour’s rail there and the same back takes so much time. Before returning, we paid a short visit to Baron Stockmar and his wife, who is very pleasing, and seems to suit him perfectly. They look as if they had always belonged to each other.

Potsdam, June 13th.

Our time here is soon drawing to a close, much to my regret; for the life with dear Vicky—so quiet and pleasant—reminds me in many things of our life in England in former happy days, and so much that we had Vicky has copied for her children. Yet we both always say to each other, no children were so happy, and so spoiled with all the enjoyments and comforts children can wish for, as we were; and that we can never (of course, still less I) give our children all that we had. I am sure dear Papa and you, if you could ever hear how often, how tenderly, Vicky and I talk of our most beloved parents, and how grateful we are for what they did for us, would in some measure feel repaid for all the trouble we gave, and all the anxiety we caused. I ever look back to my childhood and girlhood as the happiest time of my life. The responsibilities, and often the want of many a thing, in married life can never give unalloyed happiness.

We are looking for a governess for the two elder girls for next year, and a lady with the necessary knowledge and character, and yet of a certain rank, is so difficult to find.

Potsdam, June 19th.

Louis went two days ago to Fischbach for his mother’s birthday, and returns to-morrow morning. Vicky was very low yesterday; she has been so for the last week, and she told me much of what an awful time she went through in 1866, when dear Siggie [Sigismund] died. The little chapel is very peaceful and cheerful, and full of flowers. We go there en passant nearly daily, and it seems to give dear Vicky pleasure to go there.

Vicky goes on the 7th of July to Norderney.

Fischbach Schlesien, July 2d.

We arrived here in this exquisitely-lovely country two days ago, and were received by our parents-in-law and Aunt Mariechen, whose guests we are in the pretty old Castle of Fischbach, surrounded by fine old trees, with a view on the beautiful Riesengebirge, which reminds me a little of Scotland, and also of Switzerland. The valleys are most lovely and the numberless wooded hills, before one reaches the high mountains, are quite beautiful. The trees are splendid and the country looks very rich and green.

All the people of the village and the neighborhood came out to see us and our children, and old servants of Louis’ grandparents, who were so delighted and pleased that I and my children should be here, and that they should have lived to see the younger generation.

We are out seeing the beautiful spots nearly all day long. The weather is fine and not very warm, so that one can go about comfortably. Yesterday we went over for tea to Erdmannsdorf. If only dear Vicky and Fritz were there now! We must hope for another year to be there together. The parting from them, who had made our séjour under their hospitable roof such a very happy one, was very sad, and the pouring rain was in accordance with our feelings. We left them and dear lovely Potsdam and the pleasant life there with much regret, and many a blessing do I send back in thought to its dear inmates.

Yesterday afternoon we were at Schmiedeberg. We went to see a very interesting carpet-manufactory, worked by hand, and all by girls, and a very simple process, much like making fringe, which you used to do and then make footstools of after Beatrice’s birth.

Yesterday our wedding-day—already seven years ago—made me think so much of Osborne, and of you, darling Mama, and of all that passed during that time. It was a quiet wedding in a time of much sorrow, and I often think how trying it must have been for you.

Kranichstein, July 21st.

Yesterday after eighteen hours’ very hot railway journey, we arrived here all well. Many thanks for your letter, which I received at Dresden. It was impossible to write, as I had to pay visits and to see things during those two days.

The Crown Prince and Princess received us at the station; the following day we paid our visits. I found Marie 93 in bed looking very well, and her baby, tied up in a cushion, seemed a nice child. Her other children are very pretty; the eldest girl is like George, and the little one has a quantity of fair curls, like Louis of Portugal’s boy. In the afternoon of that day the King and Queen came to see us, and were very kind. She is very like the Queen Dowager of Prussia, her twin sister, and her other sister, Queen Marie, is very like her twin sister, Archduchess Sophie. As they are first cousins, and very fond ones, of my father-in-law, they consider themselves of course as our aunts.

I went to see the picture-gallery, which has some exquisite pictures, though the Sistine Madonna surpasses all others, and the famous Holbein, of which the Dresden gallery has been for long so proud, is now recognized as a copy, and the one that belongs to my mother-in-law as the original. We visited the Grüne Gewöbel [the Green Vaults], where the magnificent jewels and other treasures are preserved, and the King was kind enough to lead us over the rest of the castle himself, including his own rooms, in one of which the life-size pictures of his last four daughters (all dead) stand, of whom he cannot speak without tears. How dreadfully he and the poor Queen must have suffered these last years!

Uncle Louis is at Friedberg and intends remaining there all next month, till the manœuvres are over. Alice Morier will accompany me.

Kranichstein, July 25th.

Thousand thanks for your kind letter which I received yesterday, at the same time that the beautiful christening present for Ernest arrived! Thousand thanks for this most beautiful and precious gift for our boy, from Louis and from myself! We are so pleased with it! It is to be exhibited here, and it will interest and delight all who see it, I am sure.

I have just received a letter from Bertie, announcing his arrival here for the 28th. We shall be greatly pleased to see them all; but we have so little room, and our house in town is all shut up and under repair, so that we shall have some trouble to make them comfortable and shall be quite unable to do it as we should wish. But I trust they will be lenient and put up with what we can offer.

The heat is very great, though this place is comparatively cool.

Kranichstein, July 29th.

Dear Bertie and Alix with their children arrived at Darmstadt after ten, and we brought them here by eleven o’clock last night. They are all looking well, but Bertie has shaved off his beard, which does not suit him. Dear Alix is unchanged, and certainly no fatter.

The children are very dear and pretty, but my boy is as tall as little Louise, and of course much bigger. I am so delighted to see them all again; it is such a great pleasure, as you can well imagine.

The pony you kindly sent us has just arrived, and to the great delight of all the children, who send their best thanks. We are all lodged very close together: Bertie and Alix, our bedroom and my dressing-room; we both, my sitting-room, and the passage-room; then come the different children. No gentlemen or ladies are in the house, as it was utterly impossible.

Kranichstein, August 11th.

* * * Victoria has often ridden on Dred, and also the other girls, on a Spanish saddle, and he goes very well. They delight in him. Baby rolls about the room anywhere now, and tries to crawl properly. He calls Papa, and tries no end of things; he is very forward, and is now cutting his fifth tooth, which is all but through.

Friedberg, August 26th.

On this dear day I must send you a few words. The weather is so beautiful, and the sun so bright, as it used to be at Osborne in former years. I don’t care for the sun to shine on this day now, as it can’t shine on Him whose day it was. It makes one too wehmüthig to think of darling Papa on those happy birthdays, and it must be more so for you than for any of us, poor Mama.

Yesterday was Ludwigstag; all the town decorated with flags, illuminations, etc., and English flags and arms with the Hessian everywhere.

We started on horseback along the high road at half-past seven this morning, and did not get off till one. A lovely country and very interesting to see. To-morrow we shall have a very long march, and the night Alice Morier, I and William (Louis is undecided) will spend at Prince Ysenburg’s at Büdingen. The next morning we have to ride off at half-past five, and a long day back here.

Kranichstein, September 11th.

* * * What charming expeditions you must have made in that lovely country?94 What I saw of it some years ago I admired so intensely. You can well be proud of all the beauties of the Highlands, which have so entirely their own stamp, that no Alpine scenery, however grand, can lessen one’s appreciation for that of Scotland.

The day before yesterday we went to Mayence to see a “Gewerbe-Ausstellung” [Industrial Exhibition] of the town, which was very good and tastefully arranged. From there we went to Frankfort to our palace, for a rendezvous with Aunt Cambridge, Uncle George, Augusta and Fritz Strelitz. I showed them the children, and afterwards, when our relations left, we took our children to the Zoölogical Garden, which delighted them.

Many thanks for the grouse, which has just arrived, the first since two years ago!

Darmstadt, October 3d.

* * * I am very glad that you also approve of Louis’ journey, which I know will be so useful and interesting for him, though it was not possible to attain this without parting from each other, which is, of course, no small trial for us, who are so unaccustomed to being separated. But we never thought of that when we considered the plan of Louis joining Fritz, which was my idea, as travelling in new countries is so good for a man, and Louis may never find so good a chance again. I am looking forward very much to seeing Geneva—where we spend a day—and the south of France, and above all, seeing the sea again. Fritz passes through here to-morrow. Louis starts Saturday morning, viâ Munich, for Venice, where he will join Fritz next Sunday afternoon, and spend the following Monday there before they go to Brindisi. Vicky comes here with her children on the 12th or 13th, and a suite of twenty-five people. She goes on with the big boys to Baden, and I follow with the other children on the following day. I don’t like separating Victoria and Ella, who like being together; the three girls will be so well taken care of at their grandparents’. I have written down rules for meals, going out, to bed, to lessons, etc.; and my mother-in-law, who never interferes, will see that all is carried out as I wish. I shall miss them so much, but having one child at least is a comfort; and baby is beginning to talk, and is so funny and dear, and so fond of me that he will be company to me when I am alone. I take no one but Orchard, Eliza, Beck, and my Haushofmeister [Steward], who used to be with Lord Granville.

Darmstadt, October 11th.

Yesterday morning at eleven we had the hard separation from each other, which we both felt very much. My own dear, tender-hearted Louis was quite in the state he was in when we parted at Windsor in 1860 after our engagement. He does not like leaving his children, his home, and me, and really there are but few such husbands and fathers as he. To possess a heart like his, and to call it my own, I am ever prouder of and more grateful for from year to year. Nowadays young men like Louis are rare enough, for it is considered fine to neglect one’s wife, and for the wife also to have amusements in which her husband does not share. We sisters are singularly blessed in our husbands.

Dear kind Countess Blücher has been here the last two days—such a happiness to me just now, for the house feels far too lonely.

Grand Hôtel, Cannes, November 5th.

* * * I have this instant received another letter from dear Louis from Constantinople, giving the accounts of what they did and saw there until the 29th ult., when they left for Jaffa. He seems delighted, and very greatly interested with all he has seen. Louis thought so much of the Sultan’s English visit in 1867, on seeing him again. He found him more talkative than then. He saw also several of the suite who were in England. They went to Scutari, into the Black Sea, and visited all in and near Constantinople, and on the last day they visited the Emperor of Austria, who had just arrived. There is something very funny in hearing of these Royalties, one after another, all running to the same places. They must bore the Sultan considerably.

This journey will be of great advantage to dear Louis, who has never had an opportunity (through marrying so young) of travelling like others.

This afternoon we went to see poor Princess Waldeck. She is still in great grief at the loss of her eldest daughter, who suffered so long, and knew she was dying, and bore her lot with such resignation and such goodness. She was only fifteen and a half, I think.

I was very much pleased to see Lord and Lady Russell again the other day. We hope to be able to pay them a visit at San Remo, though one can’t go and return in the same day.

The country has looked too lovely to-day; the sunset is always most beautiful, for it sets behind the Esterel Mountains, which lie to the right from this bay, and have a very lovely jagged form.

I am reading to Vicky a new Life of Napoleon, by Lanfrey, which is very well and impartially written.

Cannes, December 14th.

* * * The heavenly blue sea, stretching so far and wide, is in accordance with one’s feelings, and the beauties of nature have always something comforting and soothing. * * *

The Duke of Argyll’s sister, with his pretty daughter, Victoria, are here, and we have been twice to see them, and are distressed that they should be so anxious about the dear Duchess, of whom the news to-day is worse. How dreadful, should any thing happen to her, for her husband and for the many children!

The Eburys and Lord Dalhousie have likewise arrived here, but we have not seen them yet.

To-morrow we had intended leaving this, but during the night poor Vicky had the dreadful fright of Waldie’s being taken ill with the croup. Thank God, he is better this morning, but our journey will have to be put off for a few days, so that Vicky cannot now reach Berlin in time for Christmas. As we don’t wish to spend that day en route, we have telegraphed to our husbands, who reach Naples to-day, to ask whether they will not join us here, that we may all spend Christmas together before leaving.

This is all unsettled, and I will telegraph as soon as every thing is definitely arranged. Rollet 95 is here to-day, and spends this day in quiet with us.

Cannes, December 20th.

We both had the happiness yesterday of receiving our dear husbands safe and well here after so long a separation. They had been to Naples and Pompeii, and Louis went for a day to Rome, so that he has seen an enormous deal, which is very instructive for him, and will be such a pleasure for him to look back upon in later years.

I am so glad that Louis has had the opportunity of making this journey; and it seems to have done his health good also, for he looks very well.

The journey back is so long and difficult for me to manage alone with Louis—as Vicky’s people, particularly in the nursery, have helped mine—that I am obliged to wait until the 26th, and to go with Vicky and Fritz, for they travel slower than I would do if I went with Louis, who goes back direct day and night. The doctor would not consent to my travelling with Ernie from this warm climate into the great cold so fast, and during the night, for he is cutting four back teeth at this moment.

The day before yesterday we visited Lord Dalhousie and Lady Christian, and found him very gouty, but in good spirits. Lady Ebury and Oggie 96 came to see us this afternoon. Prince and Princess Frederic of the Netherlands and their daughter have arrived here. The poor Princess is so weak, and looks like a shadow.

Hôtel du Jura, Dijon, December 28th.

Just as we were leaving Cannes your last letter reached me, for which many thanks. It was cold the morning we left Cannes, very cold at Avignon, where we spent the night, and still colder, and snow and frost, on reaching this place yesterday evening. We and the children are all well, and the poor little ones are very good on the journey, considering all things. In an hour we leave for Paris, rest there to-morrow, and then go to Cologne, where I shall take leave of dear Vicky and Fritz, and go straight home. I have been so much with dear Vicky this year, that the thought of parting from her costs me a great pang, the more so as I do not think it likely that I shall meet her in this new year.

On New Year’s eve I arrange a Christmas-tree for all my children, and in advance I thank you for all the presents you have been kind enough to send us, and which we shall find at Darmstadt. * * *

1870.

At the beginning of this year, and soon after his return from the East, Prince Louis was laid up with scarlet-fever, and, soon after, Princess Victoria and the little Prince took the same illness. Though the attack was a severe one, all made a good recovery, and no ill effects remained behind. Princess Alice undertook the nursing entirely herself. During this time of enforced seclusion from the social world her intercourse with the famous writer and theologian, David Friedrich Strauss, was a source to her of great interest and enjoyment.

The Princess became acquainted with this remarkable man in the autumn of 1868 at her own particular desire, and after considerable hesitation on his part. Strauss had spent the winter of 1866 at Darmstadt. He returned there again in the spring of 1868, and remained there until the autumn of 1872. His own account of his acquaintance with the Princess was by her wish not published at the time, but has been since, with the consent of his family and that of the Grand Duke. From this the following narrative is taken almost verbatim:

“Although I was entirely unaccustomed to associate with persons of high rank, I soon felt entirely at ease with this lady. Her simplicity, the kind manner in which she met me, and her keen bright intellect made me forget all differences of social position.”

Strauss visited the Princess very often, and their conversations lasted sometimes for hours. He himself speaks of them as “most delightful and refreshing.”

Very often they read aloud, and this no doubt led to a suggestion from Strauss, that he should write down notes about Voltaire—whose works they were studying—and afterward read them to the Princess. She entered readily into this plan. “Her idea was to have a select circle of listeners. Besides herself and one of her ladies, with whom she was very intimate, Prince Louis, and the English Minister then at Darmstadt, Mr. [now Sir Robert] Morier, were to be present.” The illness of Prince Louis prevented this plan from being carried out.

“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.’

“The dedication was thus unqualifiedly accepted, but now—in what words should I put it? I had got accustomed to the form in which I had meant to write it myself into the copy I wished to present to the Princess. I intended saying that I had written lectures for the Princess, and that she had allowed me to read them aloud to her. Would not this make the Princess, so to speak, an accomplice of this objectionable book? Could I state this publicly? I felt myself bound to leave to the Princess the choice between this dedication and a more formal one, in which these allusions were omitted. Upon this the Princess sent me the following answer:

“‘I should not like any change made in what you have written on the first page, and am greatly touched at your kind dedication.

Alice.’

“When I was at last able to send her my book in its complete form with the dedication printed, I received the following note from her, written from Kranichstein, on the 27th of June, 1870:

“‘I have not been able till to-day to thank you for your “Voltaire” received yesterday. The book itself is the cause of the delay, as I devoted my spare time to reading over what you had yourself read to me so beautifully last winter. I seemed to hear your voice and all your observations again. I must thank you once more for that great enjoyment, and for the kind terms of your dedication.

“‘Alice.’

“Seldom have the negotiations about the dedication of a book been carried on in a way like this, and seldom has a Royal Princess shown herself so courageous and amiable.”

All must agree in this opinion, from whatever point of view they look at the subject. It was like the Princess’ straightforward nature boldly to acknowledge to the world her friendship for Strauss, even at the risk of incurring the most unfavorable criticisms.

Strauss says, further, in his “Memoirs”:

“The memory of the Princess Alice will be inseparably connected, as long as I live, with one of the most gratifying episodes of my life—the writing of my work on Voltaire.”

To this must be added that though, as time went on, the Princess agreed less and less with Strauss’ avowed religious views, and especially differed considerably from those enunciated in his book, “The Old and the New Faith,” she never thought otherwise of Strauss than with gratitude and esteem, as one in whom she had met with the most beautiful characteristics of the best German scholarship—viz., unflinching sincerity, combined with a rare gift of saying what it has to say clearly and pleasantly, and a winning modesty of personal demeanor.

In the end of March the Prince and Princess with their family went to Mayence for change of air after the scarlet-fever. The Princess went much into society during her stay there; but this did not prevent her from making use of every possible opportunity for furthering those institutions which she had so much at heart. She visited the hospitals at Mayence, Offenbach, and Giessen, and had many consultations with the heads of these various hospitals with a view to possible improvements.

The quiet, happy time at Kranichstein during the summer was suddenly brought to an end by the declaration of war between France and Germany. Prince Louis had to go to the front with his division, which, together with another division, formed the Ninth Army Corps, and part of the Second Army, commanded by Prince Frederick Charles of Prussia. The Princess took leave of her husband on the 25th of July. She, however, saw him again once or twice before the final leave-taking, on the 1st of August.

On the 15th of August the Hessian division for the first time encountered the enemy, before Metz, and on the 16th took part in the battle of Mars-la-Tour. During the terrible battle of Gravelotte, on the 18th of August, Prince Louis and his division occupied a central position in the irresistible force, which drove Marshal Bazaine back into Metz, and held him imprisoned there with an iron grasp.

On the 19th Prince Louis and the troops encamped on the battlefield, and he had the pleasure of meeting his brother Henry. Prince Louis took part in the battle of Noisseville on the 31st of August, when General Manteuffel commanded the troops engaged. He and his division also formed part of the army investing Metz, partly doing outpost duty, and partly serving in the reserve.

On the 8th of October, whilst the Prince was in command of his division at Gravelotte, where the troops were concentrated in hourly expectation of a sortie of the French from Metz, he received the news of the birth of a second son, who had been born on the 7th.

Ever since the Prince’s departure the Princess had remained “at her post” in Darmstadt, helping, comforting, and advising all around her. She was proud to be the wife of a German officer serving in the field in such a cause, though her life for the present was full of anxiety and care. She worked, like any other woman, to alleviate as best she could the sufferings of the sick and the wounded, and giving aid to those who were plunged into destitution by the war. Whilst she was living with her children at Kranichstein the “Hülfsverein,” or Committee of Aid, had its headquarters in her palace at Darmstadt. She herself went there every day, visited all the hospitals, also the ambulances at the railway station, and superintended the organization of “Committees of Aid” all over the country. The Committees which she had organized long previously now proved themselves an untold blessing.

The “Alice Society for Aid to Sick and Wounded” had sixteen trained nurses ready for work at the beginning of the war. Through the voluntary help of some of the best doctors and surgeons, who arranged classes at different places for the instruction of all those who were anxious to help to nurse during the war, the number of nurses was increased by degrees to one hundred and sixty-four. These were sent to the different hospitals in Hesse, to ambulances near Metz, to the hospital trains, and the hospitals on the steamers.

In her own palace the Princess arranged a depot for all necessaries required for the sick and wounded. Later on another was established in the Grand Ducal palace. Besides the many regular nurses, a number of women and ladies joined together to serve out refreshments, during the night as well as the daytime, to the wounded, who were constantly passing through Darmstadt and halted at the railway station. Similar committees were, thanks to the Princess’ own initiative, formed all over the country.

One of the hospitals at Darmstadt, erected by the English National Red Cross Society, and supplied with English surgeons, received the name of “The Alice Hospital.” Under a special arrangement it was subsequently taken over by the Hessian military authorities. In this hospital, as in others established independently of the “Alice Society,” women and girls of all classes lent their aid.

Simultaneously with the aid to the sick and wounded, those who had been rendered widows, orphans, or destitute by the war were cared for through the Princess’ exertions; and “The Alice Society for the Education and Employment of Women” did good service. Out of this Society sprang the “Alice Lyceum,” which was intended for the intellectual culture of women of the higher classes. Lectures were to be delivered in it on all the interesting subjects of the day. This Lyceum continued for some years to attract a more or less numerous audience. In the first winter of its existence lectures on English and German Literature, the History of Art, German History, and Natural History were given. The lady at the head of it was Fräulein Louise Büchner. Its subsequent failure was caused by numerous external difficulties, and not because the original idea for which it had been founded had proved otherwise than sound.

The little new-born Prince continued to thrive, and the Princess made a comparatively quick recovery. The Crown Princess of Prussia, who was then living at Homburg, came constantly to see her sister; and later on, in November, they went together to Berlin. The christening of the little Prince, who was to bear the name of the victorious general of Weissenburg and Wörth, was deferred till his father’s return.

Prince Louis had garrisoned Fort St. Privat on the 29th of October, and saw the 173,000 French prisoners and Imperial Guard pass before Prince Frederick Charles of Prussia.

On the 30th the troops marched farther into the interior of the country. Troyes was reached on the 10th of November, a few days later Fontainebleau, and soon after the troops confronted the “Army of the Loire” at Toury. The battle of Orleans took place on the 3d and 4th of December, and on the 5th the victorious troops made the entry into the town. Part of the Hessian division moved along the left bank of the Loire, and fought the engagement of Montlivault on the 9th of December; the other part of it surprised and took possession of the Castle of Chambord, with five guns and many prisoners. Blois was soon after taken; and from the 10th of December till the 14th of February, 1871, the headquarters were at Orleans. During the expedition against General Chanzy the Hessian division alone guarded the line of the Loire from Gien to Blois.

January 8th.

* * * My three girls have had fearful colds—Ella bronchitis, which Ernie also took from her, and during twelve hours we were in the very greatest anxiety about him; the difficulty of breathing and his whole state caused great alarm. Thank God, he is now quite convalescent; but those were hours of intense suffering for me, as you can imagine. Weber is most attentive and most kind on such occasions, and in such moments one is so dependent on the doctor.

* * * Some very good lectures have been given here lately, undertaken by a committee, which we are at the head of, and of which Mr. Morier is a member. They have been a great success hitherto, and we are going to one to-night by Kinkel, who in 1848 was a refugee in England, and is now a professor at Zürich.

January 16th.

Beloved Mama:—We are very grateful for your kind enquiries, and for your letter received this morning. The violence of the fever and the great pain in the throat have abated, and dear Louis is going on favorably. The nights are not good as yet, and his head pains him.

I am cut off from all intercourse with any one in the house, on account of the dear children; and I trust they may escape, for they still cough, particularly Ella and Ernie. I see Christa when I am out walking, not otherwise, as she comes in contact with the part of the house where the children live. I read to Louis, and play to him, as my sitting-room opens into the bedroom. I keep the rooms well aired, and not hot, and at night I sleep on a sofa near his bed. The first two nights were anxious ones, and I was up all night alone with him; but now, thank God, all seems to be going well. * * *

January 20th.

I am happy to say that all is going on well. Louis has no more fever, but his throat is still far from well; it has still the character of diphtheria, though in a mild form—a sort of skin and bits of blood come away when he coughs. He is a very good patient, and I leave him very little alone save when I take my walks, which in this high cold wind are very unpleasant. I hear Ella is still so hoarse and coughs, and Victoria is not quite well. Orchard writes to me every evening, and Dr. Weber sees them in the morning before he comes downstairs.

This instant Weber tells me that Victoria has the scarlet-fever, and I have just been up to see her. She suffers very much, poor child; the fever is very high and the rash much out. It is too late now to separate the others, and those who are not predisposed will escape; but those who are inclined to take it have it in them by this time.

It is a source of great anxiety. Orchard and Emma have never had it. * * *

January 23d.

I was very glad to get your dear lines of the 22d, full of sympathy for me during this anxious time. Victoria’s fever has been very high; and so much discomfort and pain, with a dreadful cough, which she has had for the last six weeks. She is very low, and cries every now and then from weakness, etc., but is a very good patient, poor little one. Amelung comes every afternoon and sits with her, and she is a great favorite with the children, as she knows countless pretty stories.

Louis is not out of bed yet, on account of his throat, etc.; but he is much better, though in this treacherous climate, which is so proverbially bad for throats and lungs, I fear that even with the greatest care there is a risk.

The other children are as yet well, though I don’t think Ella looking well; she has still a cold, and is as hoarse as when I came home. Ernie is all right again, and looks the best of them all. I doubt their escaping, though it is quite possible, as they did not take it when Victoria did. I keep the rooms fresh and continually aired.

All the balls and parties are going on here now. Of course, I can neither go anywhere nor receive any one, on account of the infection. It is a wearisome time indeed, and being so much in sick rooms and so little out begins to tell upon me. How kind of you to send the books! Louis will be delighted. I have just read to him Russell’s book of Bertie and Alix’s journey, and am now reading to him a new Life of Napoleon, by Lanfrey, which is very well written—more against than for Napoleon. Of course, newspapers and the Revue des Deux-Mondes I read to him besides. * * *

January 31st.

* * * Though dear baby has had two bad, restless nights, yet I am happy to say that he has the illness so slightly, with so little fever or sore throat, that we are in great hopes it will get no worse. He is cutting his back teeth just now, which is the worse moment possible to be ill in.

Victoria looks very hollow-eyed, pale, and wretched, poor darling, but is in good spirits now. The other two are as yet free. The weather is most beautiful—frosty and clear,—and I have been skating daily for the last six days, which does me much good, and enables me to see people again. This afternoon I have a large party on the ice at Kranichstein, and this is always a great amusement to the young people. * * *

Mayence, April 10th.

* * * Yesterday evening we had to give a large party here, half to the military, and the other to the civil authorities and to the Bürger [citizens]. It went off well; but the amount of speaking, as one must speak to all, and the effort to remember who they all were—they having been all presented at once—was no small exertion. * * *

Mayence, April 15th.

* * * Lady Car. [Barrington] wrote to me how very grateful Mrs. Grey was to you for your great kindness and consideration.97 In trouble no one can have a more true and sympathizing friend than my beloved Mama always is. How many hearts has she not gained by this, and how many a poor sufferer’s burdens has she not lightened! * * *

April 25th.

Thousand thanks for your dear loving lines! I kissed them a thousand times, and thank you so much for the quite lovely statuette—a little gem, which every one has been admiring this morning. The shawl and little ornament gave me also great pleasure, and the colored photographs of the rooms—in short, all and any thing from such dear hands must give pleasure. * * *

June 25th.

* * * I am proud of my two girls, for they are warm-hearted and gifted, too, in appearance. Victoria’s facility in learning is wonderful, and her lessons are her delight. Her English history and reading she has learned from me. I give her a lesson daily, and Bäuerlein 98 can tell you how much she has learned. * * *

I read a great deal, chiefly history and deeper works; and I have one or two very learned acquaintances with whom to read or to have books recommended by.

My two committees always give me no end of work, and I have tried to have many improvements made in the girls’ schools of the different classes; and some of these things, by dint of a deal of trouble, are prospering, and I hope in time to come will prove their worth. There is a great deal to be done, and in the hospitals I have been able to get some very necessary changes made. I tell you all this, fancying it may perhaps interest you a little bit. * * *

July 2d.

How grieved I am for your sake, above all, and for the poor Clarks and ourselves, that dear kind Sir James, that true fatherly friend, is no more!! Many thanks for your last letter, which tells me of your last visit to him, which I am sure must be a great comfort to you. Oh! how sad to think how many are gone! And for you, dear Mama, this is quite dreadful. I can’t say how I feel it for you!

Lord Clarendon’s death grieves me much also; and it was so sudden. Alice Skelmersdale wrote to me in the greatest distress; he had been a most loving father.

In the midst of life we are in death; and in our quiet and solitary existence out here, where we see no one, all accords with sad and serious feelings, which, amidst the many people and worry you live in, must jar with such feelings and make you wish for solitude. The accounts you give touch me so much. Many thanks for having written so much about dear Sir James; it is of great value to me. Louis begs me to say, how he shares the grief you all and we must feel at such a loss.

What you say about the education of our girls I entirely agree with, and I strive to bring them up totally free from pride of their position, which is nothing save what their personal worth can make it. I read it to the governess—who quite enters into all my wishes on that subject—thinking how good it would be for her to hear your opinion. * * * I feel so entirely as you do on the difference of rank, and how all important it is for princes and princesses to know that they are nothing better or above others, save through their own merit; and that they have only the double duty of living for others and of being an example—good and modest. This I hope my children will grow up to.

July 26th.

When I returned home last night really heartbroken, after having parted from my good and tenderly-loved Louis, I found your dear sympathizing words, and I thank you a thousand times for them—they were a comfort and pleasure to me! I parted with dear Louis late in the evening, on the high road outside the village in which he was quartered for the night, and we looked back until nothing more was to be seen of each other. May the Almighty watch over his precious life, and bring him safe back again: all the pain and anxiety are forgotten and willingly borne if he is only left to me and to his children!

It is an awful time, and the provocation of a war such as this a crime that will have to be answered for, and for which there can be no justification. Everywhere troops and peasants are heard singing “Die Wacht am Rhein” and “Was ist des Deutschen Vaterland?” and there is a feeling of unity and standing by each other, forgetting all party quarrels, which makes one proud of the name of German. All women feel ashamed of complaining, when father, husband, or son goes, and so many as volunteers in the ranks. This war is felt to be national, and that the King had no other course left him to pursue with honor.

I must be in town by nine o’clock: so much rests on me, and there are so many to help—the poor forsaken soldiers’ families amongst others! I have seen that all is ready to receive the wounded, and to send out help. I send out fourteen nurses for the Feld-Lazarethe [field-hospitals].

How much I feel for you now, for I know how truly you must feel for Germany; and all know that every good thing England does for Germany, and every evil she wards off her, is owing to your wisdom and experience, and to your true and just feelings. You would, I am sure, be pleased to hear how universally this is recognized and appreciated.

What would beloved Papa have thought of this war? The unity of Germany, which it has brought about, would please him, but never the shocking means!

July 28th.

My darling Louis is at Worms, and Henry just in front of him. The enthusiasm all along the Rhine is wonderful. They are all hopeful, though knowing well what enormous sacrifices and struggles a victory will cost.

I cannot leave this place until our troops should have—which God prevent!—to retreat, and the French come! Now is the moment when a panic might overcome the people; and I think it my duty to remain at my post, as it gives the people courage and confidence. My parents-in-law, who have their three sons out, would feel my absence, and they have the first claim on me. I am in beloved Louis’ home, and nearer to him, if I remain. Of course, with dear Vicky I should personally be far better off. But Fritz is not much exposed, and she has not that fearful anxiety to such an amount as I have for dear Louis, who, as commander of only a division, must be in the very midst of all. Day and night this thought is uppermost in my mind. I hope and pray for the best, and bear what is sent to me in common with so many others. Work is a Zerstreuung [distraction], and I know dear Louis would prefer knowing me here for the present, and that must be the first consideration to determine my actions.

Louis is well, and, now the dreadful parting is over, I am sure in better spirits, though work and anxiety weigh on him, poor love.

The children send their love. I am pretty well; able to do a great deal; headache and sleeplessness are but natural at this moment.

August 5th.

Arrived in our house this morning, I was received with the news of dear Fritz’ victory, and that 500 French prisoners had just passed through here by rail. I know none of ours can have been engaged, but we have not heard if there was an engagement elsewhere. The excitement and anxiety are quite dreadful! Please God, my darling is safe, and will pass safely through these dreadful dangers—and our many dear friends and acquaintances also! I am always sending off things for the wounded from our stores, and continue working and collecting, and all are most patriotic and united. It is a solemn and great time we live in, and there is something grand and elevating in the unity of high and low throughout this great nation, which makes one proud of belonging to it. If only all goes on well!

I am very sleepless, and never without headache, but one has neither time nor wish to think of one’s self. My own Louis’ safety is the all-engrossing thought; and I know, beloved Mama, that you love him truly, and share this anxiety with me. * * *

August 15th.

A few words by messenger. I have sent a letter by Kanné, who came here yesterday, having seen dear Louis the day before, which was the first direct news I have had from him. Yesterday morning he was at Faulquemont. Poor General von Manstein (our Chef), when he reached Saarbrück, found his son had been killed, and he had him taken out of the general grave and buried in the churchyard. * * * No less than forty French wounded I saw this morning in our hospital, with some Turcos. Some can’t speak in any known language, and the French dislike having these savages near them as much as we do; their physiognomies are horrid, and they steal and murder as Handwerk [their vocation].

So much going about—for I go to Darmstadt at half-past eight, and remain till half-past eleven, in the morning, and in the afternoon from five till eight—is getting very fatiguing to me; but the people have no time to come out here, and there is much to see to, and many to speak with.

August 19th.

I have tried to write as often as I could, but I have only two hours to myself during the whole day, through driving in here twice a day. Besides the large Hülfsverein for the “wounded and sick,” which is in our palace, I have daily to visit the four hospitals. There is very much to do; we are so near the seat of war. This morning we got two large wagons ready and sent off for Pont-à-Mousson, where they telegraph from the battlefield of the 16th they are in great want. My best nurses are out there; the others are in three hospitals: two of them—military ones—were not ready or organized when 150 wounded arrived a week ago. I have just had a telegram from dear Louis; he is well, and I hope in a day or two the least dangerously of the Hessian wounded will arrive.

Thank God, all goes on successfully; but, indeed, I hope I shall not live to see another such war—it is too shocking by far. We have over five hundred wounded; as soon as any are better, they are sent north, and worse ones fill the beds—French and German intermixed. I neither see nor smell any thing else but wounds! and the first Anblick [sight], which sometimes one does not escape meeting, is very shocking! It was very late last night before I got home. I was stopped at one of the hospitals, as a poor soldier had had sudden violent bleeding, and was all but dead, as the doctor could not find the artery; but I sent my carriage for another surgeon, and I am happy to say he lives and is recovering.

As Louis commands the whole of our little army, a great many things concerning the troops come to me from all parts of the country, and there is much to do—much more than in my present state is good for me; but it can’t be helped.

I drive back to Kranichstein by one daily, and am here again before five, so I hope you will kindly forgive my writing seldomer. Becker is engrossed with his duties at the Hülfsverein; there is no other gentleman with me, and I have the household to look after, besides.

August 20th.

My telegram will have told you that dear Louis is until now safe. On the 16th, in the evening, and on the 17th and 18th, our troops were engaged, and yesterday evening late I drove to the station, to speak to General Kehrer, our commandant, and received a telegram of the last victory, near Metz—a battle of nine hours, very bloody—no mention of names. The people, all excited, crowded round my carriage, asked for news—which of our regiments had been under fire? I could tell them nothing, but pacified them, begging them to go to their homes—they should hear as soon as I had news. I drove home with an aching heart, and passed a dreadful night of suspense. At six this morning a telegram from Louis (19th); he and his two brothers safe; our loss enormous—seventy officers out of one division (ours is the 25th), and Oberlieutenant Möller, a great favorite, his adjutant since 1866, very badly wounded. I went at once to Darmstadt to Louis’ parents. They were so overcome and thankful to hear of the safety of their children. This continual anxiety is fearful. Now to-day all the poor wives, mothers, sisters, come to me for news of their relations; it is heart-rending! We sent off two large wagon-loads to Pont-à-Mousson again with provisions, bandages, and medicaments, and mattresses to bring back all the wounded possible by rail. I went the round of the hospital, to have all the convalescent Prussians and French able to travel sent to their homes, so as to get room, and now we can await the sad arrivals. Oh, if it would but end! the misery of thousands is too awful!

Kranichstein, August 25th.

Many thanks for your dear words of the 20th. God knows, I have suffered much, and the load of anxiety is great! But thousands of Germans bear this load in unity together for their Fatherland, and none murmur. Yesterday a poor woman came to me to ask me to help her to get to the battlefield, to have the body of her only son looked for and brought home; and she was so resigned and patient.

I see daily, in all classes, so much grief and suffering; so many acquaintances and friends have fallen! It is heart-rending! I ought to be very proud though, and I am so, too, to hear from the mouths of so many wounded officers the loud praise of Louis’ great bravery on the 16th and 18th. Always in front, encouraging his men where the battle raged fiercest and the balls fell thickest. He was near our troops, speaking to them, directing them, and right and left of him they fell in masses. This lasted eight hours!

* * * Hourly almost the trains brings in fresh wounded, and many and shocking are the sights one sees. I only returned here by one, having gone to town at half-past eight this morning, and have still three hospitals for this afternoon.

My nurses reached the battlefield in time, and were of great use. Louis telegraphed (yesterday’s date) from Auboué, between Thionville and Metz, where they remain in bivouac. * * * It is ten days since Louis has been in a bed or under a roof. They have no water (it is kept for the wounded), and little to eat, but he is very well.

It is difficult to get news, and I can never send any that is not mostly ten days old ere it reaches him.

August 26th.

* * * I had a telegram on the 25th from near Marengo, not far from Metz—all well. Louis has not been in bed or under a roof since the 16th, and it rains incessantly. I hope they won’t all be ill. He writes mostly on cards, on the hilt of his sword, sitting on a box. They cook their own dinner, and on the 16th they were going to eat it, when orders came to turn the French left wing and go into battle. That night was awful, though the day of the 18th seems to have been the bloodiest ever known. Our wounded all tell me so.

My dear parents-in-law bear up well; but when we three get together we pour our hearts out to each other, and then tears which are full of anxiety will flow.

Kranichstein, September 2d.

I went early to Homburg, as no trains go regularly now. I went by road from Frankfort, and found dear Vicky well—her little baby very pretty and healthy-looking; the other dear children also well.

How much we had to tell each other! How much to be proud of, and how many friends and acquaintances to mourn over! The few hours we had together flew by in no time, and at Frankfort the train was unpunctual—outside Darmstadt it waited nearly an hour. At our palace, where I arrived at ten in the evening, people who were going to our Haupquartier [headquarters], were waiting. I scribbled a few words to my dear Louis (the first since he received the Iron Cross, a great distinction) and packed a few things for him—tea, etc.

September 15th.

Though I am still forbidden to use my eyes, I must send you a few words of thanks for your dear letter and telegram. I had a violent inflammation of eyes and throat, with two days strong fever and neuralgia. I am recovering now, but feel the effects very much; my eyes are still bad, and it has reduced my strength, which I require so much. Dr. Weber has just lost his sister (whom he treated in her confinement) from puerperal fever, and he told me he thought he must have given it to her, from going to and fro to his wounded, for Lazarethfieber [hospital fever] and that were so closely akin. You can fancy that in Louis’ absence, and with the prospect of being alone, without even a married experienced lady in the house, this prospect frightened me. It is unhealthy at any time to be for one’s confinement in a town full of hospitals with wounded, and Weber could never give me as much attention as at another time, and, should I be very ill, there is no authority to say any thing about what had best be done. On that account your telegram was a relief to me.

September 20th.

* * * Daily I hear the muffled drums of the funeral of some soldier or officer being taken past my windows to his last resting-place. How deeply I do feel for the poor parents and widows!

My children are very well, but have absolutely no place where they can walk with safety from infection, for the mass of sick troops who get out and stop near the Exercirplatz [drill-ground], and the hospitals in town. The barrack at the foot of our garden contains 1,200 French prisoners, and many of them ill. It is much to be hoped that there will be soon an end to all these things. I feel for the Emperor and Empress very much. What ungrateful, vain, and untruthful people the French are! To expose Paris to a siege, now their armies are beaten, which they think through fine speeches and volunteers they can set right again.

September 22d.

I received your letter through Kanné yesterday, and thank you many times for it; also for the little shawls and sash for Ernie. Every souvenir from dear Balmoral is a pleasure.

Good Dr. Hofmeister will be very welcome, and I know he is very clever. Mrs. Clarke is sure to get on well with him, and an older doctor just now, besides being an acquaintance of so many years, is to me indeed a comfort. I shall be able also to hear of all at home, and of so many things that interest me. Thousand thanks from Louis and from myself for your sending him. * * *

All long for peace—the army and the nation—and I think so great a national war as this need not require part of the foes’ territory. What little is necessary for the military frontier they must take; but the union of Germany under one head is a far greater and finer end to such a war than the annexation of land!

* * * War is the greatest scourge this world knows, and that we may not live to see it again, is my earnest prayer.

October 1st.

* * * The children are all well, in spite of the bad air here. I send them out driving of an afternoon, when I can best, having only one coachman, as ours are with Louis. At present they can’t manage it often. * * *

October 3d.

* * * Dr. Hofmeister is to both of us a source of real confidence and comfort. I don’t think any one else would have been more welcome to me just now, and he can write daily to Louis, and letters go usually in two days now.

I go as little as possible to the hospital now, and, indeed, do nothing imprudent, you can be sure. * * *

November 12th.

* * * The nerves of my forehead and eyes are still painful; and from all sides I am again called upon to look after, settle, and advise concerning many things. On that account Dr. Weber and my mother-in-law insist on my leaving Darmstadt for a total change of scene, etc., for three weeks. I have resisted as long as I could, as I so much dislike going from home now (though I do not feel up to the work, and yet cannot keep from doing it), but I have finally given in, and accepted Vicky’s kind invitation to accompany her for three weeks to Berlin. The journey is long and cold, but her company when we are both alone is a pleasure to me, and I shall hear all news as directly there as here.

* * * Last night I was much overcome. I had been sitting at the bedside of one of my poor young friends, and he was gasping in a too-distressing way. The father held his hand, the tears streaming down his cheek, the son was trying to say “Weine nicht, Papa” [“Don’t weep, Papa!”]. The poor old father, so proud of his good and handsome child, is heart-broken, and they are touchingly united and full of feeling for each other. I would give any thing to save his life; but all efforts will, I fear, be in vain. Though I have seen so many lately die hard deaths, and heard and seen the grief of many heart-broken widows and mothers, it makes my heart bleed anew in each fresh case, and curse the wickedness of war again and again.

Poor baby can’t be christened yet, as my parents-in-law think Louis would not like it during his absence, so I shall wait. * * *

November 17th.

* * * How I rejoice to hear that Leopold gains so much strength, and that he can be about again as usual. Will you kindly tell him in Louis’ name and mine (as I am still restricted in all writing and reading) that we beg him to stand godfather to our little son?99 Baby is so nice and fat now, and thrives very well. I think you would admire him, his features are so pretty, and he is so pink, and looks so wide-awake and intelligent. Ernie, who in general is a rough boy, is most tender and gentle to his little brother, and not jealous. * * *

Berlin, December 5th.

* * * Yesterday Fieldmarshal Wrangel came to see me, and his words were, “Zu gratuliren dass Ihr Mann ein Held ist, und sich so superb geschlagen hat” [“Accept my congratulations that your husband is a hero, and has fought so magnificently”]. I am very proud of all this, but I am too much a woman not to long above all things to have him safe home again.

* * * The evenings Vicky and I spend alone together, talking, or writing our letters. There is so much to speak of and think about, of the present and the future, that it is to me a great comfort to be with dear Vicky. It is nearly five months since Louis left, and we lead such single existences that a sister is inexpressibly dear when all closer intercourse is so wanting! There is so much, beloved Mama, I should like to speak to you about. * * *

The girls are quite well, and very happy with their grandparents. The governess—who in the end did not suit for the children—as the six months’ trial is over, will not remain, and I am looking for another one.

Darmstadt, December 18th.

* * * The children and I bore the journey well, and it was not cold. Parting from dear Vicky was a hard moment, and I shall feel the loneliness here so much, and miss my dear good Louis more than ever. The children are, of course, at such a time the greatest blessing. There is so much to do for them, and to look after for them; and mine are dear good children, and do not give over-much trouble.

Letters I have again received speak of the amount of danger Louis has again been daily exposed to, and how his personal courage and daring have given the victory in many a fight. God protect him! I live in fear and trembling for his precious life, and after I hear of his being safe through one battle, I take it as a fresh present from the Almighty, and breathe freer again, though the fear soon enough gets the upper hand again.

I have asked Uncle Louis to allow his Berichte [reports] to be copied for you. Louis has Köhler and another footman with him, that is all—and two coachmen. He rides in all battles the horse you gave him in 1866, which he rode during that campaign, and which is quite invaluable. It would interest Colonel Maude to know this, as he bought the horse. My nursery is in very good order, and they are all invaluable in their way.

How is good Dr. Hoffmeister’s family? Please say many kind things to him from me, and tell him that the baby is getting so nice and fat, and is so healthy in spite of all troubles. Here is a photograph of him, but not at all flattered. Please give Dr. Hofmeister one of them!

I have this instant received a letter from Louis dated the 11th! I will have an extract made for you, I think it might interest Bertie to hear something of Louis, whom he can be proud to have as a brother-in-law, for I hear his praises continually. He has been throughout the war, as every other General has been, without a carriage, etc., like other Princes, and has gained the respect and devotion of his troops.

Darmstadt, December 19th.

* * * I hope for this last time, if we are spared and live to come over together once more, we may have the joy of showing their dear Grandmama the whole little band. Of course, no thoughts of plans can be entertained, and I know, after so very long a separation, Louis would not be willing again to part from his children.

My wounded were so pleased to see me again yesterday. Alas! many in bed, and so ill still! My two in the house are much better, and the one who during six weeks lay at death’s door is recovering. I have seldom experienced so great a satisfaction as seeing this young man recover, and the doctors say I have been the means of saving his life.

The joy of the old parents will be very great. Since I left, there are new widows, and fresh parents bereft of only children; it is a most painful duty to go to them. But I know the comfort of sympathy is the only one in deep grief.

December 23d.

My warmest and tenderest thanks for your dear and loving letter, with so many expressions of a mother’s love and sympathy, which do my heart good, now that I feel so lonely and anxious. It seems too great a happiness to think of, that of our being allowed to come with our children to you, and to Scotland; and you know the smallest corner is enough for us, who are by no means particular—neither are our people. If I write this to Louis, it will be something for him to look forward to, to cheer him and reward him after so hard a time, which he bears so bravely and uncomplainingly. This morning I have been at the Alice Hospital, which is prospering. I have been taking my gifts for Christmas to one hospital after another. Your two capes have delighted the poor sufferers, and the one wounded for the second time is very bad, alas! My wounded officer in the house is recovering, next to a miracle. For the two wounded in the house, the children, our household, and the children of our servants at the war, I arrange Christmas-trees.

We grown-up ones of the family have given up keeping Christmas for ourselves. We have too much to do for others, and my parents-in-law, like me, feel the absence of the dear ones who are always here for Christmas.

I am superintending Victoria and Ella’s letters to you, which have not achieved the perfection wished for. As they are to be quite their own, I hope you will excuse their arriving a little later.

Darmstadt, December 27th.

* * * Louis telegraphed on Christmas day from Orleans, where I had sent Christa’s brother with a box of eatables and woollen things for his people, and a tiny Christmas-tree with little lights for the whole party. Louis has sent me a photograph of himself and staff done at Orleans, and I have sent for a copy for you, as it is very good. On Christmas day it was five months since Louis and the troops left. The charming stockings you sent, I have sent off in part to-day to Louis to give to his Stabswache [Staff-guard]; the other things I divide among the wounded and sick.

My children are all well. The little one sits up, and, though not very fat, is round and firm, with rosy cheeks and the brightest eyes possible. He is very healthy and strong, and in fact the prettiest of all my babies. The three girls are so grown, particularly the two eldest, you would scarcely know them. They are both very tall for their age. Victoria is the height of Vicky’s Charlotte, and Ella not much less. They are thin, and a change of air would be very beneficial.

1871.

The christening of the little Prince took place quietly on the 11th of February, the child receiving the names of Frederick William. The sponsors were the Empress of Germany, the Crown Princess, Crown Prince, Prince Frederick Charles of Prussia, and Princess Alice’s own brother, Prince Leopold. The ceremony took place in the absence of Prince Louis, who had been unable to get leave, although an armistice had been concluded on the 28th of January, which it was hoped would be the forerunner of peace.

On the 18th of March the King of Prussia, who had meanwhile become Emperor of Germany, made his entry into Frankfort-on-the-Main, together with his son and his whole staff. The Grand Duke of Hesse and the members of his family received him there.

Prince Louis at last obtained ten days’ leave of absence, and arrived at Darmstadt on the 21st of March. The parents of the Prince had gone to meet him and his brother William a few stations beyond Darmstadt, whilst the Princess Alice awaited her husband at the Darmstadt railway station. The joy and thankfulness of that meeting can well be imagined. Darmstadt was gaily decorated in honor of the Prince’s return; and he met with an enthusiastic reception.

Prince and Princess Louis were present at Berlin on the 16th of June at the triumphal entry of the German troops on the conclusion of the peace. On the 21st of June the Prince entered Darmstadt at the head of his Hessian division. In spite of pouring rain, the town presented a most festive appearance. Later on the Prince and Princess and their children went to Seeheim (near Darmstadt), where her brother, Prince Alfred, visited them on his return from his three years’ voyage round the world. The Prince and Princess of Wales also paid their sister a visit; and Prince and Princess Louis saw much of their Russian relations, who were then staying at Jugenheim.

In August, the family went to the seaside at Blankenberghe, where they spent three weeks, and afterward went to London. They arrived at Balmoral on the 13th of September, on a visit to the Queen, whom they found suffering severely. They stayed with her till the 1st of November, but the children, who had caught the whooping cough, were sent to London sooner. Whilst at Sandringham, to which the Prince and Princess went on their way back from Balmoral, in the middle of November, the Prince of Wales was taken ill. Prince Louis had to return to Darmstadt, but the Princess remained in England, and shared the anxieties of the very dangerous and protracted illness of her brother, whom she helped to nurse. It was the same terrible fever (typhoid) which, ten years before, had ended the life of the beloved Prince Consort, and it was so severe that the worst was feared. Prince Louis returned to England on the very day when the danger was greatest, but he also was able to share in the joy and thankfulness when improvement set in upon the 14th of December. He remained over Christmas, and returned to Darmstadt before the year was at an end.

Darmstadt, January 7th.

* * * In England people are, I fear, becoming unjust toward the German troops. Such a long and bloody war must demoralize the best army; and I only say, in such a position how would the French have behaved? Many French officers say the same, and how greatly they respect the German soldier. Hundreds of French officers and two generals have broken their word of honor, and run away. I doubt, whether one in the German army would do such a thing. The French peasants, often women, murder our soldiers in their beds, and the wounded they have used too horribly many a time. Is it a wonder, then, when the men let a feeling of revenge lay hold of them? A guerilla war is always horrid, and no words can say how all Germans feel and deplore the present phase of the war! I hope and trust that the end may not be far distant.

One of the poor wounded soldiers whom I gave your cape to is dying, and the poor boy won’t part from it for an instant, and holds it tight round himself.

Louis continues at Orleans, where they have entrenched themselves, and await with impatience news from Paris which must be of great influence for the continuation or ending of the war.

My days fly past. The children take much of my time—so, too, the house, my two wounded in the house, and the hospitals, to one of which I go daily.

Darmstadt, January 14th.

* * * How kind of you to work something for Louis; he will wear it with such pleasure. Prince Frederick Carl’s recent victories 100 and the fresh hosts of prisoners must help to bring the war to an end. Germany does not wish to go on, but the French won’t see that they are beaten, and they will have to accept the visitors, who must increase in numbers the longer the French refuse to accede to the German demands.

I am so low, so deeply grieved for the misery entailed on both sides, and feel for the French so much. Our troops do not pillage in the way described in English papers. I have read far worse accounts of what the French soldiers and francs-tireurs do in their French villages.

The poor soldier who had your cape is dead. He died with it round him. I was with him in the afternoon, and he had tears in his eyes, and was very low. In the night he died. This morning I was at the station to give things to the wounded and sick who came through—a sorry sight. This afternoon I am going to a poor soldier’s widow who has just had twins. The distress on all sides is great. I help where I can. Becker tears his hair. The two wounded in the house cost so much. So does every thing else; but as long as I can, through sparing on myself, help others, I must do it—though I have, as things now are, nothing left.

I will get a head of Ernest done for your bracelet, and another one, so that you may have something else of him. He is a magnificent boy, but so huge—such limbs! The baby is not at all small, but near Ernest all the others look small.

He can’t speak properly yet, but he understands every thing, and has a wonderful ear for music. He sings the “Guten Kameraden” without a fault in the time, and is passionately fond of dancing, which he also does in time.

Irène is growing fast also, but the two eldest are quite big girls; it makes me feel old when I see them growing up to me so fast. Victoria has a very enquiring mind, and is studious, and learns easily and well. Since the middle of December I have been without a governess.

To-morrow I go to Mayence to see poor Woldemar 101 Holstein’s sister. He is very bad, to the grief of all Mayence, and of all who know him.

Darmstadt, January 16th.

* * * It is pouring and thawing—most dismal—and my thoughts are with our dear ones and our poor troops far away. Becker lost his brother-in-law, who leaves a wife (Matilda, Becker’s sister) and four little children. Each day fresh losses.

My little baby ought to be christened, but Louis and my parents-in-law always hope that the end of hostilities is near, and that Louis can then get leave. Baby’s blue eyes are beginning to turn, and look almost as if they would be brown. Should dear Grandmama’s and Grandpapa’s eyes come up again amongst some of the grandchildren, how nice it would be!

I have but little news to give. I go about to the poor soldiers’ widows and wives—no end of them, with new-born babies, in the greatest distress.

Yesterday I saw the mother of the poor young soldier who died. She keeps your cape as a precious relic, as it had given him such great pleasure.

January 30th.

Your charming photograph and kind letter arrived this morning—thousand thanks for both! How like the photograph, and how pleasing! I am so glad to have it.

The armistice and capitulation of Paris are great events. The people are out of their minds with joy—flags all over the town, and the streets crowded.

I forgot to say in my last letter how grieved I was about Beaty Durham’s 102 death. It is quite shocking! and those numbers of children in so short a time. I earnestly hope none of us run such a chance, for on the whole our children have not been so close together. My last came sooner than I wished, and is smaller than his brother, but I hope now for a long rest. I have baby fed, besides, so as not to try my strength. He is very healthy and strong, and is more like Victoria and my brothers and sisters than my other children, and his eyes remind me of Uncle Ernest’s, and seem turning brown, which would be very pretty, as he is very fair otherwise.

Your pretty photograph is standing before me, and makes me quite absent. I catch myself continually staring at it, instead of writing my letters.

Darmstadt, February 2d.

* * * All the many French here are pleased at the capitulation of Paris, and hope that peace is certain. Louis writes to me that the inhabitants of Orleans were equally pleased, and consider the war over. I earnestly pray it may be so. How greatly relieved and thankful all Germany would be!

Louis telegraphed to-day. He has no leave as yet, though he hopes for it. Now that there is a prospect of peace, and that the fighting is momentarily over, I feel quite a collapse of my nerves, after the strain that has been on them for six whole months. I can scarcely imagine what it will be when my beloved Louis is at home again; it seems too great a joy! Rest and quiet together are what I long for; and I fear in the first weeks he will have so much to do, and there will be much going on.

He speaks with the greatest hope of going to Scotland this autumn; and, if we are spared to do so, it will be such a rest, and do good to our healths, which must feel the wear and tear sooner or later.

February 11th.

Many thanks for your last kind letter. I thought so much of you yesterday, spending the dear 10th for the first time again at Windsor. To day our little son is to be christened, but only the family will be present, and my ladies and the two wounded gentlemen, who can get about on crutches now. When I think that the one owes his life to being here, it always gives me pleasure.

Two nights ago I was awakened by a dreadful noise, the whole house and my bed rocking from it; and twice again, though less violently. It was an earthquake, and I think too unpleasant. It frightens one so; the doors and windows rattle and shake. To-night two slight shocks, and one during the day yesterday.

How I shall miss dear Louis to-day! The seven months will be round ere we meet, I fear, and he has never seen his dear little boy. It always makes me sad to look at him, though now I have every reason to hope—please God—that I shall have the joy of seeing Louis come home, and of placing his baby in his arms. My heart it full, as you can fancy, and, much as I long to see Louis, I almost dread the moment—the emotion will be so great, and the long pent-up feelings will find vent.

I pray that peace may be restored, and that I may not live to see such a war again, or to see my sons have to go to it.

I will tell Christa to write an account to you of the christening, for Leopold to see also, as he will be godfather. Frederic William Augustus (after the Empress) Victor (victory) Louis will be his names. Fritz and Vicky, the Empress and Fritz Carl, are godparents.

Darmstadt, February 14th.

My bad eyes must again excuse the shortness of these lines, which are to thank you many times for your last dear letter.

Christa will have sent you the account of little Fritz’s christening, which was a sad day for me, and will have been so for dear Louis likewise. We have added dear Leopold’s name to the other, as his sad life, and the anxiety his health has so often caused us all, endear him particularly, and we hoped it would give him pleasure, poor boy.

The elections in the provinces are all for peace, and only the towns for war and a republic. This week is one of intense and anxious expectation; though the greater portion believe in the restoration of peace, yet we have no security for it.

March 6th.

* * * Now dear Louise’s marriage draws near, how much you must feel it! I think so much of her, of your and of my dear home. I trust she will be very happy, which with such an amiable young man she must be.

Louis has received the Order “Pour le mérite,” which I am so glad of for him. The Emperor telegraphed the announcement to my mother-in-law, with many complimentary words about her sons. To have the three sons safe is something to be thankful for, for they were much and continually exposed. I know nothing of Louis’ coming. The troops march home, and it will take at least six weeks. I hope so much that he may have leave for a fortnight, and then return to the troops, to lead them home.

To-night are the peace illuminations here, which will be very pretty. Our house will also be illuminated, and I take the two eldest girls out with me to-night to see it all. It is a thing for them never to forget, this great and glorious, though too horrid, war.

March 13th.

I know nothing as yet of Louis’ return. I fear I must wait a few weeks longer. On Wednesday the Emperor, Fritz, and some of the Princes pass through Frankfort, and I am going there with my parents-in-law to see them.

The Paris news is not very edifying, and I fear France has not seen the worst yet, for there seems to be a fearful state of anarchy there.

I have no news to give, save that Frittie has his first tooth. He is between Victoria and Irène, but not like Ernie—not near so big, which is really not necessary. I think he is the sort of baby you admire. I go on looking after my hospitals, and now the trains, full of Landwehr returning home cheering and singing, begin to pass. Now good-bye, darling Mama. I am in thought daily with you during these days, and only wish it had been in my power to be of any use or comfort to you just now.

Darmstadt, April 8th.

* * * We had the pleasure of catching a glimpse of Louise and Lorne on their way through, but their stay was too short to be able to say more than a few words. They can scarcely help passing through here, as they can’t go through France, on their way back; and if you would allow them quite incognito on their way back to pass a day here, it would give both Louise and me the greatest pleasure, and entail no other visits.

The Emperor, who kindly gave Louis leave, prolonged it till Monday, when he leaves, and for how long is quite undecided. If I could only go with him! Marie of Saxony has joined George: so has Carola [the Crown Princess of Saxony] her husband; but our division, which is near Chumont, is in too bad and close quarters to admit of my living there.

Should Louis have to remain very long, I still hope to rejoin him—I don’t care about the little discomfort.

The new governess, Frl. Kitz, comes on Thursday. She is not young, but pleasing-looking—said to be very amiable, and a good governess; has been for eighteen years in England, first with Lady Palk, and then for ten years with Herr Kleinwart—a rich German banker in London—where she brought up the two daughters.

Darmstadt, April 13th.

* * * Ernie’s kilt was sent him by Mr. Mitchell.103 He admired Ernie so much at Berlin, that he said he would send him a Scotch dress, and I could not refuse. It is rather small as it is, and I hope that you will still give him one, as from his Grandmama it would be doubly valuable.

Louis has arrived safely at his destination—Donjeux; and we both feel the separation very much after having had the happiness of being together again.

The Paris battles are too dreadful, and the end seems some way off yet.

May 27th.

My thoughts cannot leave unfortunate Paris! What horrors, and enacted so close by in the centre of the civilized world! It seems incredible; and what a lesson for those who wish to learn by it!

Darmstadt, June 8th.

Louise and Lorne are just gone, and it rains and blows, and is dreadful. Their visit was so pleasant, so gemüthlich, and I think Louise looks well and happy. She had much to tell of their journey, which seems to have been very interesting. I could show them almost nothing, as the weather was so bad. We three went yesterday evening to my parents-in-law, who were most kind to them, as they always are to all my relations.

Their short stay was a great great pleasure to me, so cut off from home as I have been since three long years.

Louis will be here in a few days, and we go together to Berlin for four days; Louis insists on my accompanying him. On the 24th the entry of the troops will be here.

Seeheim, June 14th.

* * * I am so glad that the poor Emperor and Empress are so kindly treated. They deserve to be well used by England, for the Emperor did so much to bring France and England together. How shamefully the French treat them, and speak of them, is not to be told; for the French consider themselves blameless, and always betrayed by others, whom they had made almost their gods of, as long as all went well.

Dear Frittie is getting better—principally his looks, but the illness is not overcome yet. I have been so anxious about him. The country here is more beautiful than ever, and country air and flowers are a great enjoyment. Every little walk is up and down hill, little brooks, rocks, small green valleys, fine woods, etc. I have not lived here since 1865, when Ella was a baby. The children are beside themselves with pleasure at the pretty country and the scrambling walks, but above all at the wild flowers, in which they are getting quite learned. I find them in a book for them, and even Ernie knows some names, and never calls them wrong. All my children are great lovers of nature, and I develop this as much as I can. It makes life so rich, and they can never feel dull anywhere, if they know to seek and find around them the thousand beauties and wonders of nature. They are very happy and contented, and always see, the less people have the less they want, and the greater is the enjoyment of that which they have. I bring my children up as simply and with as few wants as I can, and, above all, teach them to help themselves and others, so as to become independent.

Darmstadt, June 20th.

I write at the dinner-table, whilst the children finish dinner, as I have not found a spare moment yet, and the rest of my afternoon is taken up with the preparations for to-morrow.

The Empress Augusta has just been here for three hours, quite dead-tired with all she went through.

Thousand thanks for your dear letter received before our departure for Potsdam! Our journey was dreadful. We left in the evening, and were to have been here at 11 A.M., and through the irregularity of the trains we only got here at four in the afternoon. I am quite done up. The fatigues at Berlin were incessant. Any thing more grand, more imposing or touching and erhebend [elevating] than the entry of the troops in Berlin I never saw. It was a wonderful sight to drive for three-quarters of an hour through rows of French cannon! The decorations were so artistic, so handsome, and the enthusiasm of the dense crowds quite enormous. I am glad to have been there; it will be a thing to recollect. The old Emperor, surrounded by the many princes and by his great generals, looked so noble riding at the head of his glorious troops. Deputations of all the German troops were there.

It was very hot, and we had to drive every day to Berlin, and back in the evening.

Alas! it is rainy here, and the town is so beautifully decorated; three large triumphal arches, and the houses covered with garlands and flags.

I found the dear children well, though rather pale from the heat.

Louis left again this morning, but after to-morrow remains here for good, which will indeed be a pleasure after such endless separations.

Darmstadt, June 27th.

* * * To-day Aunt Marie of Russia and her children were here. Aunt Marie looks thinner than ever, but well; and Marie dear and nice, with such a kind fresh face, so simple and girlish. She gives her brothers music lessons during the journey, which she is very proud of. She is very fond of children, and of a quiet country life—that is the ideal she looks for. The Emperor of Russia comes here on the 5th, to join Aunt Marie at Petersthal. Louis’ work is incessant—the selling off of horses, the changing garrisons of the regiments, the new formation of our division, causes almost more work than the Mobilmachung [mobilization]. The entry was very beautiful: the decorations of the town most tasteful; not a house or the smallest street which was not covered with garlands, flags, and emblems. There were large groups of the captured guns, and the names of the battles on shields around. Unfortunately, it poured nearly all the time, and we were quite drenched. I had the five children in my carriage, and Irène gave wreaths to her godfathers of the cavalry brigade. Two days ago we gave a large military dinner, and have several soirées of that sort to give before we can go into the country, which I am longing for. We shall probably go to Seeheim, as the summer seems too damp for Kranichstein.

The middle of August we shall go to Blankenberghe, near Ostend, as the doctors wish sea-bathing for Louis, and sea air for me and for some of the children, which is very necessary to set us up before going to Scotland. We want to remain one or two days and one night in London. We require a few things, which make a stay necessary. If we might be at Balmoral on the 10th, as Louis’ birthday is on the 12th, would that suit you?

Please let me know in time if you think our plans good. This will enable us to settle when to go to Blankenberghe, as we can’t be there longer than three weeks.

How I look forward to seeing you again, and to come home once more! It is so kind of you to let us bring the children. The arrangement of the rooms will do perfectly, and we don’t care how we are put up, and above all things don’t wish to be in the way.

The weather is horrid—rain and wind incessantly—after having been tremendously hot. These sudden changes upset every one, and Frittie has had a very slight return of his illness.

August 13th.

* * * The newest news is, that my nice excellent Marie Grancy is going to marry. She will be such a loss to me. These last years she has been so useful, so amiable, and I shall miss her dreadfully. She is going to marry Major von Hesse, who was with us in England the last time, and the wedding is to be in September. As he has been ill in consequence of the war, they will go to Italy and spend the winter there.

We leave at eight to-morrow morning, reach Cologne at one o’clock, and wait there till ten in the evening, when we continue our journey and reach Blankenberghe at eight next morning. Will you kindly send a gentleman to Gravesend, who can remain with us in London, as we are quite alone?

Uncle George, Aunt Cambridge, and Mary dined with us at Frankfort two days ago. Mary I had not seen for three years; she was looking very handsome.

Blankenberghe, August 17th.

Only two words to say that we arrived safe and well here yesterday after a very hot journey. The hotel is on the beach where we sit all day; there are no walks or any thing save the beach, and no trees. Our rooms are very small and not very clean; but the heavenly sea air and the wind refresh one, and the sands are very long. One can ride on donkeys, which enchants young and old children. Every one bathes together, and one has to take a little run before the waves cover one. We bathed with the three girls this morning, but I felt quite shy, for all the people sit round and look on, and there are great numbers of people here. Our children play about with others and dig in the sand. Frittie sleeps so well since he has been here; his color is beginning to return.

We have one small sitting-room, which is our dining-room, and Louis’ dressing-room.

I was so sad and upset at taking leave of my dear Marie Grancy the other day; a kind true friend and companion has she been to me these nine years, and during the war she was quite invaluable to me. I hope she will be as happy as she deserves to be.

Buckingham Palace, September 10th.

The pleasure of seeing your dear handwriting again has been so great! Thank God that you are going on well. I do feel so much for you, and for all you have had to suffer in every way! I trust entire quiet and rest of mind and body, and any little attention that I may be able to offer for your comfort, will make the autumn of real benefit for your health. How I do look forward to seeing you again, I can’t say. * * *

We propose leaving the evening of the 13th. Bertie and Uncle George have arranged for our going to Aldershot on Monday and Tuesday, which interests Louis above all things, and I fancied this arrangement would suit you best.

The journey has quite cured Frittie, without any medicine, and the heat is over.

* * * I took Victoria and Ella to the Exhibition, and what enchanted Ella most was a policeman, who was, as she said, “so very kind” in keeping the crowd off. It reminded me of “Susy Pusy,” which dear Papa used to tease me with as a child.

We dined and lunched with Bertie, who had only just arrived, and is gone again. Dear Arthur of course I have not seen.

Bram’s Hill Park Camp, Cavalry Brigade, 2d Division, September 12th.

In Bertie’s tent I write these few lines to thank you in Louis’ name and my own a thousand times for your dear kind letter. Every loving word is so precious to us, and the presents you so kindly gave Louis enchanted him. The pin, unfortunately, did not arrive.

How I regret each time I hear you speak of your illness! I have been so anxious about you. Uncle Louis and my parents-in-law, in their telegram of to-day, enquire after you.

We have had two such interesting days; the country too lovely, each day in a quite different part. We accompanied Uncle George, and in this way have seen the two Divisions, and through sleeping here will be enabled to see the third Division to-morrow before returning to town.

I saw dear Arthur yesterday. He rode with me all the time, and to-day we met him marching with his company. How I have enjoyed seeing your splendid troops again, I can’t tell you; but I shall reserve all news till we meet.

Louis thanks you again and again for your kindness, and only regrets not having seen you himself, but is very grateful that we were allowed to stay a few days at Buckingham Palace, through which we were enabled to come here, which to him as a soldier is of the very greatest interest. Bertie is full of his work, and I think it interests him immensely. He has charming officers about him, to help and show him what to do. To our great disappointment we did not see the 42d. Highlanders, the “Black Watch” to-day; but yesterday we saw the Agyleshire 91st Highlanders, who gave Louise the present. Bertie lent me a charming little horse, but the ground is dreadful, and not having ridden for so long, and being on horseback so many hours, makes me feel quite stiff.

Dunrobin Castle, Sutherland, October 19th.

I wish your telegram had brought me better news of you. I really can’t bear to think of you suffering, and so much alone. I feel it quite wrong to have left you, and my thoughts and wishes are continually with you, and distract my attention from all I see here. I can’t tell you how much I feel for you at being so helpless. It is such a trial to any one so active as yourself; but your trial must be drawing to a close, and you will be rewarded in the end, I am sure, by feeling perhaps even better and stronger than you did before all your troubles.

I was nearly sick in the train, which is the slowest I was ever in my life, and was unable to go to dinner; but a long walk by the sea this morning has quite set me up in spite of the extraordinary warmth.

Sandringham, November 9th.

It is the first time since eleven years that I have spent Bertie’s birthday with him, and though we are only three of our own family together, still that is better than nothing, and makes it seem more like birthday. Bertie and Alix are so kind, and give us so warm a welcome, showing how they like having us, that it feels quite home. Indeed I pray earnestly that God’s blessing may rest on him, and that he may be guided to do what is wise and right, so that he may tide safely through the anxious times that are before him, and in which we now live. They are both charming hosts, and all the party suit well together. The Westminsters and Brownlows are here; Lady B. is so very handsome.

We joined the shooting party for luncheon, and the last beats out to-day and yesterday; and the weather is beautiful, though cold—a very bracing air, like Scotland.

1872.

The Princess did not return to Darmstadt with her children till the end of January, passing through Brussels on her way. Prince Louis was invested with the order of the Black Eagle at the “Krönungs- und Ordensfest” at Berlin. Many of their relations visited the Prince and Princess during the early part of the year.

On the 6th of June another daughter was born, and she was christened on the 1st of July, the anniversary of her parents’ wedding-day. Her names were Victoria Alix Helena Louise Beatrice. The sponsors were the Prince and Princess of Wales, the Cesarewitch and Cesarewna, Princess Beatrice, the Duchess of Cambridge, and the Landgravine of Hesse.

In August the Crown Prince of Prussia paid his first visit to Darmstadt since the war, and met with a most loyal and hearty reception.

In consequence of the death of the Princess Hohenlohe-Langenburg, the beloved half-sister of the Queen, in September, the Prince and Princess went to Baden to be present at the last sad ceremony, and to see their beloved aunt borne to her rest.

A fortnight later the general assembly of the various German societies for charitable purposes held its first meeting at Darmstadt.

All these societies, including the “Ladies’ Union,” founded by Princess Alice, had, in 1869, joined themselves together to form one great body. During the year 1872 the Princess added another Institution to those she had already called into existence—viz., an Orphan Asylum. A special committee of ladies was at the head of it, to watch over it, and also, if necessary, to advise and help those poor orphans who had been boarded out in private families at the expense of the parish. This institution has already proved most successful, thanks to the readiness with which the authorities met all Princess Alice’s wishes.

The general assembly at Darmstadt—the “Frauentag” or “Ladies’ Diet,” as it was called—distinguished itself, not only by the extremely discreet and practical manner in which it carried out all the many different branches of business which it had undertaken, but also by the presence of several remarkable persons interested in its aims and objects, such as Madame Marie Simon, the founder and head of the Institution for training nurses at Dresden, and three English ladies, Miss Mary Carpenter, Miss Florence Hill, and Miss Winkworth.

The subjects treated of at the general assembly were the admission of women to the Post Office and Telegraph Service; the results of the working of F. Froebel’s principles for the further employment of women; of “Kindergarten”; the finding of proper localities for the exhibition and sale of women’s handiwork of all kinds; nursing as a branch of female industry; the provision of better schools for girls, and what had been done, and was doing, in England for female education and at similar institutions.

The Princess followed all the discussions with the keenest interest. She received all the members of the different societies at her own palace, and for each she had a kind and encouraging word.

None of those present will ever forget the sympathy and encouragement they met with from the Princess. She not only advised and suggested things, but herself took the initiative in any important question which came under her notice. The general assembly did great credit to itself in the eyes of Germany, and, indeed, of other countries as well, and its members were encouraged to still further exertions.

The Princess herself was full of new plans for further good works. At the beginning of November Prince and Princess Louis were present at the unveiling of a monument erected to the memory of the Hessian soldiers who fell in the war of 1870. The Princess herself placed some wreaths at its base. The 14th of December, the anniversary of the Prince Consort’s death, the Princess spent with her sister the Crown Princess of Prussia, who had come to Darmstadt from Carlsruhe for the purpose.

Darmstadt, January 21st.

* * * Louis returns to-morrow from Berlin. He was the first to be invested by the Emperor, and has met with great kindness. He was very glad to have been there with dear Arthur, who seems to please every one.

February 5th.

* * * It is a great pleasure to have dear Arthur here. He is so amiable, civil, and nice, and takes interest in all he sees, and is so pleasant to have in the house. His visit will be very short, as he gives up two days to go to Baden.

We gave small suppers on two evenings for Arthur, and yesterday evening a celebrated, most excellent violinist played quite as well as Joachim: a friend of his, and a pupil of Spöhr’s. This afternoon he is going to play some of Bach’s celebrated sonatas with and to me. Arthur enjoys music very much, and keeps up his playing.

There is a dance at Uncle Alexander’s to-night, on Wednesday a Court ball, and on Friday one at my parents-in-law. I can’t stand the heat at all of an evening, and the rooms are very hot. Louis, who has an awful cold, took Arthur to see the barracks, as all military things give him pleasure.

It is heavenly sunny weather, having been quite dark and foggy all day yesterday.

April 20th.

* * * Louis has been in Upper Hesse the last four days shooting Auerhähne, but as yet unsuccessfully. My mother-in-law is very grateful for your kind message, and is better, though weak. She has had a narrow escape from fever.

Frittie has again endless bruises, with lumps, as Leo used to have; but he is taking iron, as Sir William [Jenner] wished, and is strong and rosy and well otherwise. I trust he may outgrow this.

June 17th.

Many thanks for your dear letter and kind wishes for the birth of our baby 104—a nice little thing, like Ella, only smaller and with finer features, though the nose promises to be long. * * *

Kind Dr. Hofmeister was most attentive; and of course having him was far pleasanter than not, and we owe you great thanks for having sent him. Mrs. Clarke has been all one could wish.

Louis wrote as soon as he could, but this last week he has only been home just before his dinner, and was so tired that he invariably fell asleep. He has gone out at six, returning at twelve, and has had to be out before four in the afternoon, returning at eight. He is away again to-day. Until the 15th of September his duty will be important, and he has all the office work besides. It is double this year to what it usually is, as all people and things are new since the war.

How sad the loss of those two poor children is,105 and the sweet little “bairnie” of three! The unfortunate mother to lose two in so dreadful a way! I am sure it touched Beatrice much to see the poor little one; and in a child death so often loses every thing that is painful.

We think of calling our little girl “Alix” (Alice they pronounce too dreadfully in German) “Helena Louise Beatrice,” and, if Beatrice may, we would much like to have her as godmother.

Darmstadt, June 24th.

* * * We both felt so truly for you when we heard of dear Dr. Macleod’s death, knowing what a kind and valued friend of yours he was, and how fate seems to take one friend after another, and before age can claim its right. He indeed deserves his rest, for he did so much good in his life!

I feel rather weaker than usual this time, and sitting and walking, though only a few steps, tries me a good deal. I was out for half an hour yesterday, and I think the air will do me good.

Louis left at half-past five this morning, and will be back by seven, I hope, this evening; to-morrow the same.

I will add Vicky’s name to baby’s others, as you propose; and “Alix” we gave for “Alice,” as they murder my name here: “Aliicé” they pronounce it, so we thought “Alix” could not so easily be spoilt.

Uncle Alexander is coming back shortly, and says the Empress is not to return to Russia this winter, and will be sent to Italy for the whole winter.

The heat has been quite dreadful; there is a little air to-day, though.

August 14th.

* * * Baby is like Ella, only smaller features, and still darker eyes with very black lashes, and reddish-brown hair. She is a sweet, merry little person, always laughing, with a deep dimple in one cheek just like Ernie.

We are going to Frankfort to-day to give Uncle George and Fritz Strelitz a luncheon in our Palais there. Hélène Reuter comes to us for a month to-morrow as lady.

I hope your Edinburgh visit will go off well. You have never lived in Holyrood since 1861, have you?

How I shall think of you at dear Balmoral, and this time capable of enjoying it—not like last time, when you had to suffer so much, and were unable to do any thing. It quite spoiled our visit to see you an invalid. Remember me to all old friends there—to Brown’s kind old mother, and any who ask after us.

I shall think of you on dear Grandmama’s birthday. She is never forgotten by any of us, and lives on as a dearly-cherished memory of all that was good and loving, and so kind. My children have her picture in their room, and I often tell them of her.

Kranichstein, August 20th.

I am very grateful for your telegrams from Edinburgh, and for Flora’s [MacDonald] letter. It interests me so much to know what you did there, and I am very glad all went off so well. The people will have been too delighted to have had you in their midst again, and I am sure you enjoyed the beauty of your fine northern capital anew after not having seen it for so long a time. Beatrice seems delighted with what she saw. I recollect those many interesting and beautiful spots so well.106

The 18th was the anniversary of the dreadful battle of Gravelotte, which cost so many lives, to our division especially. We drove into town to the military church, which was full of officers and men, at half-past seven in the morning, and thought much of the friends and acquaintances in their distant graves, and of the desolate homes, until that day so bright. My heart felt too full when we were singing Ein’ feste Burg, and I had my husband at my side, whom the Almighty had graciously spared to my children and myself. Gratitude seems barely enough to express the intense depth of what I feel when I think of that time, and how again and again I long to give all and all to my good dear Louis and to our children, for he is all that is good and true and pure.

* * * The children were much distressed at the sad fate of my poor little bullfinch, who piped beautifully. Louis had caught an owl and put it in a wooden sort of a cage in the room where my bird was. In the night it broke the bars and got loose and tore the bullfinch’s tail out, and the poor little thing died in consequence.

Of our quiet country life there is little to tell. We are a good deal out, always with our little people, their pets—dogs, cats, ponies, donkeys; it is rather like a menagerie.

Schloss Kranichstein, September 17th.

* * * On Sunday the Moriers with their children were with us for the day. He looked so white and reduced, walks on crutches, but retains, as always, his spirits and his lively interest for all things. He is a kind, warm-hearted man, to whom we are both attached. Alice feels the loss of her poor sister deeply, and says her father has been so cut up about it.

We took them to races close by, and feared we should be upset, the ground being very heavy and uneven, and I was in terror for Mr. Morier, who was in my carriage.

On the 9th there is a large meeting here of the different associations existing throughout Germany for the bettering of women’s education and social position (of the middle class especially with regard to trade). Some English ladies are coming, some Swiss and Dutch. It will last four days, and be very fatiguing. The programme I arranged with my two committees here and the gentlemen at Berlin, and they wanted to force me to preside; but for so large an assemblage—to me nearly all strangers—I positively refused. I do that in my own Associations, but not where there are so many strangers, who all want to talk, and all to cross purposes. It is difficult enough to keep one’s own people in order when they disagree. I hope and trust I have prevented all exaggerated and unfeminine views being brought up, which to me are dreadful. These Associations, if not reasonably led, tend too easily to the ridiculous. My Associations take a great deal of my time and thought, and require a good amount of study. I hope and trust that what we are doing here is the right thing. We have already had some satisfactory results in the class of the workwomen, and in the reform of the schools; but there are many open questions yet, which I hope this meeting, with others who work in the same field, may help us to solve.

Will you look through the programme? It would please me so much, if I thought, you took a little interest in my endeavors here in a very small way to follow in a slight degree part of dear Papa’s great works for the good of others.

The meeting at Berlin seems to have gone off very well, and has pleased all Germans, who hope for a consolidation of peace—so necessary to them.

We have an entire change of Ministry at Darmstadt, the first since 1848, which fills all with hopes for an improvement in all the affairs of the Grand Duchy.

Kranichstein, September 25th.

* * * All sympathize with you, and feel what a loss to you darling Aunt 107 must be—how great the gap in your life, how painful the absence of that sympathy and love which united her life and yours so closely.

Darling, kind Mama, I feel so acutely for you, that my thoughts are incessantly with you, and my prayers for comfort and support to be granted you in the heavy trial are warm indeed. You have borne so many hard losses with courage and resignation, that for darling Aunt’s sake you will do so again, and knowing her at rest and peace will in time reconcile you to the loss—all the more as her passing from this world to another was so touchingly peaceful. Dear Augusta [Stanley] wrote to me, which was a great consolation, and we intend going to Baden to pay our last token of respect and love.

Darmstadt, October 13th.

* * * A few words about our doings here may be of interest to you. The meeting went off well, was very large, the subjects discussed were to the purpose and important, and not one word of the emancipated political side of the question was touched upon by any one. Schools (those of the lower, middle, and higher classes) for girls was the principal theme; the employment of women for post and telegraph offices, etc.; the improvement necessary in the education of nursery-maids, and the knowledge of mothers in the treatment of little children; the question of nurses and nursing institutes.

The committees of the fifteen Associations met Wednesday afternoon, and in the evening thirteen of the members came to us to supper.

The public meeting on the following day lasted from nine to two with a small interruption; a committee meeting in the afternoon; and that evening all the members and guests came to us—nearly fifty in number. The following day the meetings lasted even longer, and the English ladies were kind enough to speak—only think, old Miss Carpenter, on all relating to women’s work in England (she is our guest here). Her account of the Queen’s Institute at Dublin was most interesting. Miss Hill (also our guest), about the boarding-out system for orphans. Miss C. Winkworth, about higher education in England. She mentioned also the new institution to which Louise now belongs, and is a member of it herself. The ladies all spoke very well; the German ones remarkably so.

There was a good deal of work to finish afterward, and a good many members to see. They came from all parts of Germany—many kind-hearted, noble, self denying women. The presence of the English ladies—above all, of one such as Miss Carpenter, who has done such good works for the reformation of convicts—greatly enhanced the importance of the meeting, and her great experience has been of value to us all. She means still to give a lecture on India and the state of the native schools there, before leaving us.

I have still so much work in hand, that I fear my letter is hurried and ill-written, but I hope you will kindly excuse this.

To-morrow I am taking Miss Carpenter to all our different schools, that she may see how the different systems in use work. Some are good, but none particularly so; there is much to improve.

Louis is gone to Mayence to-day for the inauguration of the Memorial which the town has erected to the memory of dear excellent Waldemar Holstein, for so many years its beloved Governor.

Darmstadt, October 24th.

You must indeed miss dear Aunt much, and feel your thoughts drawn to her, whose precious intercourse was such a solace and comfort to you. It is nice for you to have Louise a little to yourself. * * *

You ask, if my mother-in-law talks with me about the different woman’s work in which I am interested. Of course she does. We are so intimate together, that even where we differ in opinion we yet talk of every thing freely, and her opinion is of the greatest value to me. She had ever been a most kind, true, and loving mother, whom I respect and love more and more. She was much pleased and interested in the success of the meeting, but is of course as adverse as myself to all extreme views on such subjects.

I have joined to my Nursing Institute an Association for watching over the orphans who are boarded-out by the State into families, where some poor children are unhappy and ill-used. The use of such meetings as this one was consists mainly in the interchange of experience made in the different branches in other places, which it is impossible to carry on by correspondence.

The schools are entirely different throughout Germany—good and indifferent; and those here do not count among the best, as every thing, through the long misrule of the late Government, is not what it ought to be.

Uncle Louis has a new Ministry now, which gives every one cause for hope.

Darmstadt, November 3d.

* * * The weather is awful here; the wind sounds in the house as if one were at sea.

This article was sent me the other day, and though I half fear seeming unbescheiden [overbold], yet, as you spoke of your feelings about women’s meetings the other day, I venture to send it.

Ella is writing to you herself to thank you for the lovely bracelet, which gave me as much pleasure as it did her. To think that she is already eight! She is handsomer than she was, and a dear child. * * * They all give me pleasure, dear children, though of course they have as many faults as others; but they are truthful and contented, and very affectionate. Having them much with me, watching and guiding their education—which, through our quiet and regular life, is possible—I am able to know and understand their different characters, for not one is like the other.

Darmstadt, November 12th.

* * * We have the same weather here which you seem to have, which for our long journey was not pleasant. We took nearly twelve hours going, and as much returning from Metz. For the inauguration itself the weather held up. The roads were dreadful, and the wide plateau looked dreary and sad—dotted all over with graves, like an enormous churchyard.

The memorial is a dead lion in bronze, on a plain pedestal, bearing an inscription on black marble in front, and at the back all the names. Deputations of officers and men were present, besides the generals, etc., from Metz. The clergyman of the division read the prayers, preached a short and touching sermon, and the band played a chorale. Louis spoke a few words, ending with the usual “Hoch” for the Emperor and Grand Duke. I then laid some wreaths at the foot of the Memorial from Louis’ parents and ourselves, and we drove back to Metz across the different battlefields. The villages are all built up again, and re-inhabited, so that few traces of the dreadful struggle remain.

* * * The Empress of Russia wrote the other day that the alliance with Marie 108 of Mecklenburg is quite impossible, as she won’t change her religion. I hope all other German Princesses will follow her example.

Darmstadt, December 12th.

For the 14th I write a few words. From year to year they can but express the same; the grief at the loss of such a father, such a man, grows with me, and leaves a gap and a want that nothing on earth can ever fill up.

The deep, intense sympathy for what you, my poor dear Mama, went through then and since, in consequence of your bereavement, remains as vivid as ever. God heard our prayers, and sustained you, and through the healing hand of time softened your grief, and retained you for us, who were too young and too numerous to stand alone!

That our good sweet Alix should have been spared this terrible grief, when this time last year it seemed so imminent, fills my heart with gratitude for her dear sake, as for yours, his children, and ours. That time is as indelibly fixed on my memory as that of 1861, when the witnessing of your grief rent my heart so deeply. The 14th will now be a day of mixed recollections and feelings to us—a day hallowed in our family, when one great spirit ended his work on earth—though his work can never die, and generations will grow up and call his name blessed—and when another was left to fulfil his duty and mission, God grant, for the welfare of his own family and of thousands.109

I have not time to write to dearest Bertie and Alix to-day; and as I love to think of them with you on the 14th, so I would ask you to let them share these lines full of sympathy for them, letting a remembrance of me, who suffered with them, mingle with your united prayers and thanks on this solemn day!

My little Fritz is at length better, but white and thin, in consequence of his illness.

Christmas Day.

Your dear presents gave me so much pleasure; I thank you again and again for them. The precious souvenir of dear Aunt, and my Ernie’s picture delight me. I assure you, nothing has given me more pleasure this Christmas.

Let me also thank you, in Louis’ and the children’s names (meanwhile, until they do so themselves), for your kind gifts to them. It makes us all so happy and grateful, to be always so kindly remembered.

The boys were well enough to enjoy Christmas, though rather pale and pulled—above all, sweet Ernie.

We gave all our servants presents—the whole household and stable—under the Christmas-tree, which we made for the children; and when the tree is divided, the children of all our servants come and share it with ours. It keeps the household as a family, which is so important. We have fifty people to give to!

Dear Beatrice’s wishes (cards) pleased the children very much, but Frittie lamented for a letter from Auntie “for Frittie.” He talks quite well now.

On Saturday we shall go for the day to Vicky. I don’t like leaving the boys for longer yet. I am so glad Vicky gave such a flattering account of baby. She is quite the personification of her nickname “Sunny”—much like Ella, but a smaller head, and livelier, with Ernie’s dimple and expression.

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