Chapter X: Part 10

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.

TRIALS.

1873-1877.

“May the hour of trial and grief bring its blessing with it, and
not have come in vain! The day passes so quickly, when one can do
good and make others happy--and one leaves always so much undone.”
(_August 2, 1873._)

1873.

This year began brightly and happily to the Prince and Princess, for little Prince Fritz, whose health had often given rise to serious anxiety, seemed stronger and better. In March the Princess at last was able to carry out her long-cherished wish to visit Italy. She travelled incognita, accompanied by Miss Hardinge and Hofrath Ruland. The journey was made in a comparatively short time, but was thoroughly successful. The Princess travelled from Darmstadt by Munich and the Brenner Pass to Florence, where she spent three days, and from there went straight on to Rome.

During her stay in the “eternal city” she employed her mornings in visiting the many beautiful picture-galleries, the churches, and the ruins of ancient Rome. In the afternoons she made longer excursions into the neighborhood, visiting the more distant churches in the Campagna, as well as the celebrated villas of Albani, Ludovisi, Borghese, etc. She used to spend her evenings in talking over and discussing all the objects of interest she had seen during the day. The Princess with her wonderful power of observation was able to do a large amount of sight-seeing in a comparatively short time. She was accompanied by Monsignore Howard (now Cardinal Howard) over St. Peter’s; and he showed her many interesting parts of this glorious edifice, which in general are never shown to Protestants. At the “Farnesina,” the private palace of Count Bermudez, she was received and conducted over it by the Count himself. The ruins of Rome which interested the Princess the most were those which dated from the time of the first Christians, as far back as the early mediæval period, the catacombs of “San Callisto,” and the curious church of “San Clemente.” Amongst the ceremonies of the “Holy Week” the Princess was greatly struck by “The Lamentations,” whilst others made her ask, as all Protestants do, how the pure simple Christian religion could possibly be so misrepresented. After attending all the grand ceremonies of the Church of Rome, the quiet service at the German Embassy made a most happy and peaceful impression on the Princess. She visited the Pope, Pius IX., who received her with his usual winning kindness.[110] She also went to the Quirinal to pay her respects to King Victor Emanuel, and to the Crown Princess of Italy, Princess Margherita. The two Princesses drove together through Rome on the occasion of the celebration of its “birthday,” and witnessed the illumination of the Capitol, Forum, and Colosseum.

On the 13th of April the Princess made a brief excursion to Sorrento by way of Naples, where her father-in-law and the Empress of Russia were staying. On the 24th of April she left with her suite for Florence, travelling by way of Perugia and Lake Thrasimene, through the valley of the Arno. As she had but little time, she was only able to visit the galleries of the Uffizi and Pitti Palaces, the tombs of the Medici in San Lorenzo, the Convent of St. Mark, the Cathedral, the Church of Santa Croce, and the “Museo Nazionale.”

The Princess left Italy on the 28th April, reaching Darmstadt on the 2d of May.

Her journey had been one of thorough enjoyment, and she felt deeply grateful that she had at last been able to see with her own eyes those glorious works of art, which from her childhood she had only been able to picture dimly to herself.

The joy of her reunion with her family was, alas! not to be of long duration. Prince Louis had been obliged to leave Darmstadt early on the morning of the 29th of May to inspect the troops in Upper Hesse, leaving the Princess still in bed, exhausted from the great fatigue of her Italian journey. The two little Princes came to wish her “good-morning,” and by her wish were left in her room by the nurse. The children soon began to play, as was their wont, running in and out of the room into the adjacent one, and looking from one window and then from another. Prince Ernest having run into the next room, the Princess followed him, leaving Prince Fritz in her bedroom. During her almost momentary absence he fell out of the window on to the stone terrace below. Whether he had leaned too far out of it and overbalanced himself, or whether in running fast through the room to the window to look for his brother he could not stop himself and fell from it, no one actually knows. He was picked up insensible, and died a few hours afterward in the arms of his distracted mother. Effusion of blood on the brain caused by the fall ended that young and bright little life. The loss of this unusually-gifted and beloved child was a blow to the mother from which she never recovered. Her married life had till then been such a happy one, that this first sorrow came on her with redoubled force.

On the evening of Whitsunday, June 1st, the beloved little Prince was taken to his last resting-place, at the Rosenhöhe (the Grand Ducal Mausoleum), his parents and sisters and brother being present. It was very long before the Princess at all recovered from the terrible shock of the death of her child, though the sympathy shown to her by her family and friends--indeed, by all--greatly comforted and helped her.

In the autumn the Prince and Princess went to Heiden in Appenzell for a little change. From there they paid a visit to the Prince of Hohenzollern at his castle of the Weinburg. At the end of November they went to England with their three youngest children, and remained there till the 23d of December, when they returned to Darmstadt.

DARMSTADT, January 12th.

* * * We were both much shocked to hear of the death of the Emperor
Napoleon, and I must say grieved; personally he was so amiable, and
she is much to be pitied. That he should die an exile in England
and, as Louis Phillipe did, is most striking. In England the
sympathy shown must touch the poor Empress, and, as I telegraphed,
we should be so grateful to you, if you would kindly be the medium
through which both of us would like to express to her how much we
feel for her. How proud you must ever be, in feeling that your
country is the one always able to offer a home and hospitality for
those driven away from their own countries! England is before all
others in that; and its warm sympathy for those who are in
misfortune is such a generous feeling.

Fannie Baillie’s Victoria is such a nice girl. She comes to our
children every Saturday, and is not above playing at dolls with
them, though she is so much older. There are two rather nice little
English girls, daughters of the chaplin here, who come to them.

February 1st.

If any one will feel with us, I know you will do so most. Since
three days, with an interruption of one day, poor Frittie has been
bleeding incessantly from a slight cut on his ear, which was nearly
healed. Since yesterday evening we cannot stop it. All the usual
remedies were used, but as yet unavailing. Just now the place has
been touched again with caustic and tightly bound, after we had
with great trouble got rid of the quantity of dried blood from his
hair, ear, neck, etc. He is horrified at the sight of so much
blood, but shows great strength as yet in spite of so great a loss.
He is of course very irritable, and, as he must not scream, one has
to do whatever he wishes, which will spoil him dreadfully. I own I
was much upset when I saw that he had this tendency to bleed, and
the anxiety for the future, even if he gets well over this, will
remain for years to come. All have their trials, one or another,
and, please God, we shall bear whatever is sent without
complaining. To see one’s own child suffer is for a mother a great
trial. With what pleasure one would change places with the little
one, and bear its pain!

February 6th.

* * * In the summer Fritz had a violent attack of dysentery, which
was so prevalent at Darmstadt, and off and on for two months it
continued, until Scotland stopped it; and this illness made him
sensitive and delicate.

* * * What has caused him such great suffering has been that, what
with the use of caustic, the tight bandaging and the iron, a
quantity of small gatherings formed on his cheek and neck, causing
such an amount of pain that he could not remain in bed or anywhere
quiet for the two first days and nights. Now they are drying off,
the itching is such that he don’t know what to do with himself, and
we have the greatest difficulty in keeping him from rubbing or
scratching himself. The want of sleep through pain, etc., has
excited him very much, so that he has been very difficult to
manage. The bandages of course cannot be removed, and great care
will be taken when they are removed, lest bleeding should
re-commence. He has been out twice a day as usual all along, and
his skin never quite lost its pinkness and mottled appearance; all
of which are signs that he has good blood and to spare, else he
would look worse and have shown weakness, which after all he did
not. * * *

He speaks well for his age, and is, alas! very wild, so that it
will be impossible to keep him from having accidents. * * *

* * * I have been playing some lovely things (very difficult) of
Chopin lately, which I know you would admire.

DARMSTADT, February 19th.

My best thanks for your dear letter! That I forgot to thank you at
once for dear Grandmama’s very beautiful print[111] came from my
having the lithograph of that picture in my room always before me,
and, though the print far surpasses it, I am so fond of the
lithograph, that I forgot the print at the moment I was writing to
you. Before that dear picture, the painting of which I recollect so
well, my children often sit, and I tell them of her who was and
ever will be so inexpressibly dear to us all. In the schoolroom, in
my sitting-room, in the nursery, there is, with the pictures of you
and dear Papa, always one of dear Grandmama, and, in my room and
the schoolroom, the Duke of Kent also.

My sitting-room has only prints and lithographs, all Winterhalters,
of the family: you and Papa, your receiving the Sacrament at the
Coronation, Raphael’s “Disputa” and “Bella Jardiniérre,” and the
lovely little engraving of yourself from Winterhalter’s picture in
Papa’s room at Windsor.[112]

Vicky is coming here on Wednesday. The Grand Duke of Weimar has
kindly allowed Mr. Ruland to join us as cicerone: which for
galleries, etc., is very necessary, and we take no courier. Rome is
our first halting-place in Italy, and for years it has been my
dream and wish to be in that wonderful city, where the glorious
monuments of antiquity and of the Middle Ages carry one back to
those marvellous times.

I am learning Italian, and studying the history and art necessary
to enable me, in the short time we have, to see and understand the
finest and most important monuments. I am so entirely absorbed and
interested in these studies just now, that I have not much time for
other things. My father-in-law, perhaps Princess Charles too, will
be with Aunt Marie of Russia at Sorrento then. William will
probably join us at Rome; he is quite a connoisseur in art, and a
good historian, quite at home in Rome, about which he raves. I must
say that I look forward immensely to this journey; it opens a whole
new life to one. * * *

Kanné has made all arrangements for us at Rome. We shall leave here
about the 18th of March.

ROME, HÔTEL ALLEMAGNE, March 27th.

* * * We left the dear children well, but very sorry at parting.
The two days at Munich were most interesting. The National Museum
in its way surpasses any I have ever seen, and in originals is
richer even than South Kensington. Aunt Mariechen was very kind and
dear; the Moriers very amiable hosts, and we met some interesting
people there. Two hours before we left, after eight in the evening,
Ludwig and Otto[113] came to us and remained some time.

The Brenner, over which we came, was covered with snow--most
beautiful scenery, like St. Moritz in the Engadine. The journey was
very fatiguing. We had a morning for Bologna, and had to wait three
hours at Florence for the night train--time enough to drive round
and in the town, which is most lovely. What trees, mountains,
colors! then the fine buildings!

The following morning at six we reached Rome. The sun was bright,
the distance blue--the grand ruins dark and sharp against the sky,
cypresses, stone pines, large cork oaks, making up such a beautiful
picture. Every day I admire the scenery more and more; every little
bit of architecture, broken or whole, with a glimpse of the
Campagna, a picturesque dirty peasant and a dark tree close by, is
a picture in itself which one would like to frame and hang up in
one’s room. It is too, too beautiful! To tell you all we have seen
and are seeing would tire you. Bertie and Arthur’s descriptions,
too, so lately have told you the same.

The Via Appia, the grand old road lined with ruins of splendid
tombs, leading from Albano through the Campagna to Rome, along
which St. Paul went, and the great kings and emperors made their
triumphal entries, is a fit one to lead to such a city as Rome,
which ruled the world.

The antique monuments, those of the Middle Ages, are so
magnificent and interesting that as yet I don’t know which to
mention first or admire most!

Our incognito did not last long (though even now we maintain it),
for the Crown Princess heard of us and came to see us, as did the
Crown Prince, and we had to go to the Quirinal, a morning visit
without _entourage_.

PALM SUNDAY, ROME, April 6th.

* * * We saw the beginning of mass and blessing of the palms in St.
Peter’s this morning, with a procession and beautiful singing.
Whilst the procession, with part of the choristers, go outside the
church, some remain within, and they respond to each other, which
produces a very striking effect. In spite of the bad style inside
of St. Peter’s, as a whole it produces a marvellous effect through
its wonderful size and richness of decoration.

I saw two convents yesterday: the Sepolte Vive, which Bertie and
Alix saw, and where the nuns asked much after him, and said that he
was _molto amabile_; and another equally strict one, but not
austere, where the Superior told me that Aunt Feodore with Princess
Hohenzollern had paid them a visit. Monsignore Howard was the only
gentleman with me and the ladies, as they never see any men. Their
idea is, that they spend the whole of their life in contemplation
and prayer, so as to pray for those who cannot pray for themselves.

The museums of the Vatican and of the Capitol, with their enormous
collection of antiques, are very fine. The celebrated Venus, Apollo
Belvidere, the Torso (which Michael Angelo admired so much, and was
taken to touch when he could no more see it), the wounded
Gladiator, etc., are there. The Sistine Chapel, with Michael
Angelo’s frescoes, which are certainly the most marvellous pieces
of painting and conception, is very dark, and the frescoes are
suffering much from the smoke, dust, etc. Raphael’s Stanze are far
better preserved, and lighter than I had expected, and of such
beauty!

I thought so often and so much of dear Papa, when I saw the
originals of all the pictures he so much admired and took such
interest in. How this alone fascinates me I cannot tell you. In
these galleries and churches there is only too much to be seen,
besides the antique ruins, etc. You would be terrified to see how
full our day is from before nine. Mr. Ruland is an excellent
cicerone for pictures and sculptures. William is with us here since
last Sunday.

We are going to the Villa Ludovisi this afternoon. The gardens of
the Villa Doria Pamfili are most beautiful: the terraces there
remind me of Osborne. I can see in many things where dear Papa got
his ideas from for Osborne and for his decorations, which Professor
Gruner understood so well to carry out.

Many thanks for your having told Lady Churchill to send me an
account of your opening of the Park.[114] I am glad that all went
off so well, and that you were not the worse for it.

I have quite refused going to Naples. We shall arrange probably to
go for two days to Castellamare (one hour from Naples); from thence
to Sorrento and Pompeii, and return here. As yet it is not hot here
at all.

ROME, April 9th.

Let me thank you for your letter written on our dear Victoria’s
birthday. I have never been away from her on her birthday before,
and though we see such fine interesting things, yet I feel very
homesick for the dear children always. In three weeks or less I
shall see them again. I look forward all the time with perfect
impatience, as I am so rarely separated from them, and we live so
much together. Every other day Fräulein Kitz and Orchard write, so
that I have news daily.

Louis’ father wrote me to-day, as his sister asks us to her house
at Sorrento for one or two nights for the 12th; but as I was rather
deranged from a sick headache yesterday, I shall wait a day before
we decide. It is wet and quite cold to-day.

We visited San Clemente two days ago, and Father Mulooly took us
through the three churches--one under the other. The antique one
was full of water, and we walked about on rickety planks, each with
a lighted taper, as it is quite dark there. It is most curious, and
the old paintings on the walls telling the legend of St. Clement
are wonderfully full of expression and feeling for the time they
were done.

ROME, April 19th.

* * * Our visit to Sorrento went off well. We got there at one on
Monday morning for luncheon. The sun had given me a dreadful
headache, which ended in sickness, so that I could not leave my
room. Marie sat with me, and was very dear and kind. The next day,
she and my Aunt, who seems tired and dispirited, had bad headaches.
We went with my father-in-law and some of the ladies and gentlemen
on the following afternoon in the Empress’ yacht to Capri, close
by, to see the blue grotto.

The Bay of Naples, particularly seen from Sorrento, is most
lovely--like a beautiful dream--the colors, the outlines are so
perfect.

We breakfasted together in the morning with Aunt and Marie, and on
Tuesday we took our leave.

We shall go to Florence the 23d, (the first station homeward);
remain there three or four days; one night at Verona, and then
home. It is a fatiguing journey, and we have so often had people in
the carriage, which is very unpleasant--some very rude English,
going to Sorrento; they did not know us.

FLORENCE, April 25th.

Your kind wishes I received early this morning. Thousand thanks for
them, and for the presents which I shall find on getting home.

I shall be so glad to have a large photograph of yourself. Thirty
years! Good-bye, youth! but I feel quite as old as I am, though the
time has flown by so fast. I would it had flown as well as it has
fast! I look back to the past with great gratitude to the Almighty
for innumerable blessings, and pray our life may continue so blest.
I have a very bad headache--neuralgia; I have it continually; and
the journey is very long and tiring. Darling Ernie wanted to buy
something for my birthday, and he thought a china doll with a bath
would be the best. I am glad Victoria remembered to write to
Beatrice as I told her; they are very fond of their Auntie.

Florence seems a beautiful town, and the situation amongst the
hills, over which the suburbs spread, is most picturesque.

I enclose the last telegrams from Sorrento. It is _fièvre du pays_
which Marie had. We remained at Rome a day longer on account of
poor Alfred. He is very patient and hopeful.

The King, whom we saw at the races, sends you his respects, and
was delighted with the cream-colored horse you sent him. Many
thanks for the flowers. I enclose two from here. The account of
your giving away the colors[115] I had already read with interest.

We must go to the Grand Duchess Marie to-morrow; Monday to Verona,
twelve hours; next morning to Munich, and that night to Darmstadt.
How I look forward to seeing the dear children! It seems to me an
age since we parted.

DARMSTADT, June 9th.

Tender thanks for your last letter, and for every word of sympathy!
The weary days drag on, and bring much pain at times, though there
are moments of comfort, and even consolation.

The horror of my darling’s sudden death[116] at times torments me
too much, particularly waking of a morning; but when I think he is
at rest, free from the sorrow we are suffering, and from every evil
to come, I feel quite resigned. He was such a bright child. It
seems so quiet next door; I miss the little feet, the coming to me,
for we lived so much together, and Ernie feels so lost, poor love.

We were at the Mausoleum with all the children yesterday evening.
It is a quiet spot amidst trees and flowers, with a lovely view
toward the hills and plain. He loved flowers so much. I can’t see
one along the roadside without wishing to pick it for him.

There is a young sculptor from Stuttgart, who was accidently here,
and, meeting the children, had asked permission to make medallions
of them. The _last_ afternoon sweet Frittie had sat to him, and he
is now making a lovely bust of him, which is getting very like.

On Wednesday my mother-in-law, with her three sons, goes to Berlin;
on Thursday Uncle Adalbert[117] will be buried in the Dom.

We sha’n’t be able to go to Seeheim until Saturday.

How _too kind_ of you to have asked us to Osborne! How a rest and
home air would have revived me--and the pleasure of seeing you
again; but Louis cannot leave until after his birthday. If he did
get leave, it would so throw him out before he has to command; and,
having been absent this spring, he feels it an impossibility, and
this I am sure you will understand. I could not leave him or the
children. Our circle has grown smaller, and drawn us all the more
together with a dread of parting from each other. We thank you a
thousand times for the kind offer.

SEEHEIM, June 22d.

* * * I do earnestly hope that too long a time may not elapse
before we meet.

It is very hot, and I feel very low and unhappy.

To-morrow this house will be full, and all the Russians, etc.,
close by. Had there only been any other quiet country place to be
at, how gladly would I have escaped this.

* * * It is only three weeks to-day since we took our darling to
his last resting-place! I wish I could go there to-day, but it is
too hot and too far.

Fritz and Louise of Baden came two days ago to Darmstadt, to see my
parents-in-law and us.

Dr. Macleod’s letter is very kind.

I enclose two photographs of dear Frittie out of groups, the
negative of one of which unluckily does not exist any more. The
little blouse is the one he had on on that terrible day. My darling
sweet child--to have lost him so! To my grave shall I carry this
sorrow with me.

In the book you sent me there is a fine poem by Miss Procter, “Our
grief, our friend,” called “Friend Sorrow,” which expresses so much
what I myself feel about a deep grief.

SEEHEIM, June 27th.

* * * It was just four weeks yesterday since our darling died, and
we went to the Mausoleum. I felt the whole weight of my sorrow, and
the terrible shock doubly again. But the precious child does
not--that is a comfort. He is happy and at rest, whilst we grieve
and mourn. Ernie always prays for Frittie, and talks to me of him
when we walk together.

Aunt Marie arrived at two on Monday, and a few hours later came to
see me, and was so sympathizing, motherly, and loving; it touched
me much. At such moments she is peculiarly soft and womanly, and
she loves her own children so tenderly. She cried much, and told me
of the sad death of her eldest girl, who was seven, and of the
terrible, irreparable loss her eldest son was to her. She has such
a religious, truly resigned way of looking at great sorrows such as
these. In the room I am now living in Aunt Marie had seen Frittie
in his bath two years ago, and she remembered all about him. She is
coming to “Sunshine’s” toilet this evening; it always amuses her,
and she is very fond of the children.

SEEHEIM, July 9th.

* * * There are days which seem harder than others, and when I
feel very heartsick, prayer and quiet and solitude do me good.

I hear Affie comes on Thursday night. This evening the Emperor
arrives. Poor Marie[118] is very happy, and so quiet. * * * How I
feel for the parents, this only daughter (a character of
_Hingebung_ [perfect devotion] to those she loves), the last child
entirely at home, as the parents are so much away that the two
youngest, on account of their studies, no more travel about.

SEEHEIM, July 26th.

* * * I am glad that you have a little colored picture of my
darling. I feel lower and sadder than ever, and miss him so much,
so continually. There is such a gap between Ernie and Sunny, and
the two boys were such a pretty pair, and were become such
companions. Having so many girls, I was so proud of our two boys!
The pleasure did not last long, but he is _mine_ more than ever
now. He seems near me always, and I carry his precious image in my
heart everywhere. That can never fade or die!

SEEHEIM, August 2d.

Many thanks for your dear letter! I am feeling so low and weak
to-day that kind words are doubly soothing. You feel so with me,
when you understand how long and deep my grief must be. And does
one not grow to love one’s grief, as having become part of the
being one loved--as if through _this_ one could still pay a tribute
of love to them, to make up for the terrible loss, and missing of
not being able to do any thing for the beloved one any more?[119]
I am so much with my children, and am so accustomed to care for
them and their wants daily, that I miss not having Frittie, the
object of our greatest care, far more than words can describe; and
in the quiet of our every-day life, where we have only the children
around us, it is doubly and trebly felt, and is a sorrow that has
entered into the very heart of our existence.

May the hour of trial and grief bring its blessing with it, and not
have come in vain! The day passes so quickly, when one can do good
and make others happy, and one leaves always so much undone. I feel
more than ever, one should put nothing off; and children grow up so
quickly and leave one, and I would long that mine should take
nothing but the recollection of love and happiness from their home
with them into the world’s fight, knowing that they have there
_always_ a safe harbor, and open arms to comfort and encourage them
when they are in trouble. I do hope that this may become the case,
though the lesson for parents is so difficult, being continually
_giving_, without always finding the return.

Dear Fannie Baillie has been a few days here, and goes to England
to-day. I shall miss her so much. I am so very fond of her. I hope
you will see her; she will bring you many messages from us.

SEEHEIM, August 13th.

* * * After endless difficulties it has been settled that we can go
to the Mainau. I am so far from strong and well that a change is
necessary, and we shall go on the 15th, as Louise of Baden
proposed, and I have written this to her.

How you will enjoy the rest at Balmoral! After so much going on you
must require it.

Hélène Reuter is coming here for a fortnight with her boy--Ernest’s
age. Poor boy, he longs for a playfellow.

SEEHEIM, August 16th.

* * * Louis joins with me in saying that we shall gratefully accept
your wish that we should come to Windsor, and he trusts there will
be no difficulties for leave then. * * *

SEEHEIM, September 7th.

* * * You ask if I can play yet? I feel as if I could not, and I
have not yet done so. In my own house it seems to me as if I never
could play again on that piano, where little hands were nearly
always thrust when I wanted to play. Away from home--in
England--much sooner. I had played so often lately that splendid,
touching funeral march of Chopin’s, and I remember it is the last
thing I played, and then the boys were running in the room.

Mary Teck came to see me and remained two nights, so warm-hearted
and sympathizing. I like to talk of him to those who love children,
and can understand how great the gap, how intense the pain, the
ending of a little bright existence causes.

Soon I shall have my Louis back. I long for him very much; but the
change of air, the active out-door life, and being quite thrown
into men’s society and occupations, must refresh body and mind.
Here he has only me, the governess and children as _Umgang_. But he
is what the Germans call _ein Haushammel_--it is what he likes
best.

We shall do nothing for his birthday. The children will recite
their poems and write little things, and his parents will come to
our five o’clock tea.

HEIDEN, APPENZELL, October 7th.

How kind of you to remember our darling’s birthday; we both thank
you for this. Sad and many are our thoughts. I think of my
loneliness and anxiety when he was born, with Louis far away in the
midst of danger--a sad and awful time to come into the world; but
sweet Frittie was my comfort and occupation, a second son, a
pleasure to us both! Now all this is wiped out, and our parents’
hearts are sore, and asking for the dear bright face we miss so
much from amongst our circle of children! He ended his fight very
soon. May we all follow in a way as peaceful, with as little
struggle and pain, and leave an image of as much love and
brightness behind, to be a blessed remembrance for the rest of our
lives!

I can’t write on any other subject to-day, therefore close these
short lines with much love from your devoted child,

ALICE.

DARMSTADT, November 14th.

* * * It is very kind of you to ask about the rooms. I should
prefer living in the tapestry rooms this time. It won’t be like the
last time--though after our house here, so full of happy and
heart-rending recollections, I go through continual pangs, which it
will take many a year to soften down, as you can understand.

BUCKINGHAM PALACE, December 20th.

BELOVED MAMA:--How much I thank you for your dear precious letter,
and for all the true love and considerate sympathy you showed me
during our visit! It has soothed and comforted me, I assure you,
and will be a pleasure and satisfaction for me to look back to the
many pleasant talks we had together.

Louis, who has always been so devoted to you, was touched to tears,
as I was, by your expressions of love to us and to our children.

Thank you also for all advice, which is so precious to me, and in
following it I shall like to think that I am doing something that
you told me.

How much I felt in parting from you I cannot say. Neither did I
like to speak of it, for it was too much, and the harder things in
life are better borne in silence, as none can bear them for one,
and they must be fought out by one’s self.

Ernie and Irène send endless loves to you, to Uncle and Auntie.
Sunny’s hand is better.

Tilla came to see me yesterday, and we both drove with her to the
Memorial.[120]

* * * There is so much I would run on about, now the dear habit of
intercourse together has once more become so natural to me. Writing
is at best a poor _remplaçant_.

Once more from both of us warm and tender thanks for so much love
and kindness! Love to Leopold and Beatrice; kind remembrances to
all who surround you! From your grateful and devoted child,

ALICE.

BUCKINGHAM PALACE, December 21st.

* * * It is fine and warm and still. I hope it will be so early
to-morrow when we cross over. I shall telegraph how the passage has
been.

Please thank Brown for his kind wishes. I am so sorry that I missed
saying good-bye to several. To say the truth, I dreaded it. It is
always so painful. The old Baron’s[121] way of disappearing was
almost the best.

1874.

During the first months of this year the Princess had the comfort of seeing many of her relations. The year was chiefly spent in retirement, and devoted to many sad memories. On the 24th of May she gave birth to a daughter, whose christening took place on the 11th of July at Jugenheim, near Darmstadt, in the presence of the Empress of Russia and the Duke of Edinburgh. The child received the names of Marie Victoria Feodora Leopoldine.

The hottest part of the summer was spent at Blankenberghe for the use of sea-baths. In September the great manœuvres of the Eleventh Army Corps took place in Upper Hesse, where the Princess met the Emperor of Germany.

The Princess’ charitable institutions were all prospering, and assuming larger and larger proportions; amongst them the Princess’ own hospital was by degrees slowly approaching completion. It was the institution she had the most at heart. It was intended to be a training-school for those who intended to become nurses, and a home for probationers whose training was at an end. It was also to serve as a model of those reforms in sanitary arrangements which the Princess had so much at heart.

When the provisional English hospital at Darmstadt (already mentioned during the war in 1870) had been taken over by the Hessian authorities, all its furniture, appointments, etc., were left to the “Alice Ladies’ Union” for the small hospital which it had started, aided by a small body of doctors in Darmstadt. This was the origin of the “Alice Hospital,” begun in a very small humble way in a cramped little house in the Mauer-Strasse. The Frauen-Verein had undertaken, when the English National Society for Aid to the Sick and Wounded had made over their hospital to them, either to build quite a new one or thoroughly to reorganize the existing one on the Mauer-Strasse. There were no funds to build a new hospital; therefore the “Alice Ladies’ Union,” could only resort to the other alternative, and this was carried out to the letter, by additional buildings and a totally new arrangement of its interior. As time went on, it was found advisable to give the hospital a distinct administration, and to separate it from the “Alice Ladies’ Union,” placing special funds at its disposal. This never would have come to pass, nor would the hospital have proved the success it did, had it not been for the untiring zeal, perseverance, economy, and practical knowledge of the lady directing it. During the summer months of 1874, a lady well acquainted with German and English hospitals--a trained nurse herself--became Lady Superintendent of the training-school for nurses, and of the hospital generally, which gradually, but surely, was gaining in importance.

The Alice Union for the Employment of Women made a further step in advance during this year, and established itself on a firm broad basis under the name of “The Alice Society for the Education and Employment of Women of all Classes.” Of this the Princess was the President, whilst Fräulein Louise Büchner directed the whole. The gentlemen and ladies who formed the committee were chosen by the Princess. All worked most harmoniously together; and the Princess was as anxious to receive advice from others in matters concerning the society as she was glad to give it herself.

DARMSTADT, January 12th.

* * * _How_ low and miserable I am at times in these rooms,
particularly when I go to bed, I cannot tell you! The impression of
_all_ is so vivid and heart-rending. I could cry out for pain
sometimes.

Till the first year is round this will often return, I know, and
must be borne as part of the sorrow!

January 16th.

* * * I know well what your grief and your bereavement were
compared to mine; but they are such different sorrows, I don’t
think one can well compare them. Your life was broken--upset:
altered from the very roots, through the one you lost; my life is
unchanged, save in the mother’s heart the blank, the pain which
thousands of little things awaken--which by the world, even by the
family, are scarcely felt; and this ofttimes loneliness of
sentiment clouds one’s life over with a quiet sorrow which is felt
in _every thing_. * * *

DARMSTADT, January 23d.

On our dear Affie’s [Prince Alfred’s] wedding-day, a few tender
words. It must seem so strange to you not to be near him. My
thoughts are constantly with them all, and we have only the
_Times’_ account, for no one writes here--they are all too busy,
and of course all news comes to you. What has Augusta [Lady Augusta
Stanley] written, and Vicky and Bertie? Any extracts or other
newspaper accounts but what we see would be most welcome.

We give a dinner to-night to the family and _entourage_, and
Russian and English legations. * * *

Louis sends you his love and warmest wishes for yourself and the
happiness of the dear pair, in which I most earnestly join. God
bless and protect them, and may all turn out well!

DARMSTADT, January 28th.

* * * Dear Marie [the Duchess of Edinburgh] seems to make the same
impression on _all_. How glad I am she is so quite what I thought
and hoped. Such a wife must make Affie happy, and do him good, and
be a great pleasure to yourself, which I always like to think. I
shall read to my mother-in-law the letters, and show them to
Bäuerlein. Both will be very grateful for being allowed to see
them.

We are going from Saturday to Monday to Carlsruhe. The eldest girls
and Bäuerlein, who is going to take charge of them for a week, are
going with us.

* * * One day we have six degrees of heat, the next two or four of
cold; it is very unwholesome.

CARLSRUHE, February 2d.

I have a little time before breakfast to thank you so very much for
the enclosures, also the Dean’s [Stanley] letter through dear
Beatrice. We are most grateful for being allowed to hear these most
interesting reports! It brings every thing so much nearer. How
pleasant it is to receive only satisfactory reports! I fear Aunt
Marie is far from well. I should be very anxious, for she is like a
fading flower.

All the family, Hohenlohes and Holsteins, send their duty. All
their respective children and ours were together yesterday
afternoon. I hope not to seem vain, if it strikes me that amongst
all the children my girls usually carry away the palm. Victoria is
in such good looks at present; they are both natural and real
children, and as such I hope to be able to retain them long.

Sophie Weiss[122] came to see me yesterday. I was very glad to be
able to give her so good an account of you, and how young you
looked when I had that great happiness of those few short days at
Windsor, which did me good in _every_ respect. Old Frau von Bunsen,
now eighty-three, I went to see--such a charming old lady, fresh in
her mind, with snow-white hair. You and Papa were the topic she
enjoyed speaking about, and our brothers and sisters.

DARMSTADT, March 2d.

* * * My nice Miss Graves I could so well have taken when Kitty
left, but I was so anxious for a German, though I was much inclined
toward her; I thought a German more important than it really is.
Not the nationality but the individuality is the first thing; and
here I think I have succeeded in finding the right person. * * *

DARMSTADT, March 11th.

* * * I hope you were not the worst for all your exertions. The
_Times’_ accounts are charming. Such a warm reception must have
touched Marie, and shown how the English cling to their Sovereign
and her house.

We have cold, snow, and dust, after quite warm weather. I trust you
will have sunshine to-morrow.

This last fortnight the news from Ashantee has so absorbed our
thoughts. It has been an arduous undertaking, and one’s heart warms
to our dear troops, who under all difficulties sustain their old
name for bravery and endurance. The poor 42d [Regiment] lost many
through illness, too; and I see they entered Coomassie playing the
bagpipes!

Louis is just reading to me Sir Hope Grant’s book on the Indian
Mutiny, which he kindly sent me, and which is interesting and
pleasant to read.

I am taking the first snowdrops to sweet Frittie’s grave. _How_ the
first flowers he so dearly loved bring tears to my eyes, and
recollections which wring my heart anew! I dread these two next
months with their flowers and their birds. Good bye, darling Mama.

DARMSTADT, April 7th.

* * * Surely Marie must feel it very deeply, for to leave so
delicate and loving a mother must seem almost wrong. How strange
this side of human nature always seems--leaving all you love most,
know best, owe all debts of gratitude to, for the comparatively
unknown! The lot of parents is indeed hard, and of such
self-sacrifice.

April 11th.

* * * The children are too much an object here; they have too
little to compare with; they would be benefited by a change, seeing
other things and people, else they get into a groove, which I know
is not good. They are very unspoilt in their tastes, and simple and
quiet children, which I think of the greatest importance.