Chapter III: Part 3

I will tell you of something I did the other day; but please tell
no one, because not a soul but Louis and my ladies know of it here.
I am the patroness of the “Heidenreich Stiftung,” to which you also
gave a handsome present in the beginning. The ladies who belong to
it go to bring linen to poor respectable _Wöchnerinnen_ [women in
child-bed], who claim their assistance. They bring them food, and,
in short, help them. All cases are reported to me. The other day I
went to one _incog._ with Christa, in the old part of the town--and
the trouble we had to find the house! At length, through a dirty
courtyard, up a dark ladder into one little room, where lay in one
bed the poor woman and her baby; in the room four other children,
the husband, two other beds, and a stove. But it did not smell bad,
nor was it dirty. I sent Christa down with the children, then with
the husband cooked something for the woman; arranged her bed a
little, took her baby for her, bathed its eyes--for they were so
bad, poor little thing!--and did odds and ends for her. I went
twice. The people did not know me, and were so nice, so good and
touchingly attached to each other; it did one’s heart good to see
such good feelings in poverty. The husband was out of work, the
children too young to go to school, and they had only four kreuzers
in the house when she was confined.

Think of that misery and discomfort!

If one never sees any poverty, and always lives in that cold circle
of Court people, one’s good feelings dry up, and I felt the want of
going about and doing the little good that is in my power. I am
sure you will understand this.

March 14th.

MY OWN DEAR PRECIOUS MAMA:--These words are for the 16th, the first
hard trial of our lives, where I was allowed to be with you. Do you
recollect when all was over [death of the Duchess of Kent], and
dear Papa led you to the sofa in the colonnade, and then took me
_to you_? I took that as a sacred request from him to love,
cherish, and comfort my darling mother to all the extent of my weak
powers. Other things have taken me from being constantly with you;
but nothing has lessened my intense love for you, and longing to
quiet every pain which touches you, and to fulfil, even in the
distance, his request.

Oh, darling Mama, were there words in which I could express to you
how much I am bound up with you, how constantly my thoughts and
prayers are yours, I would write them. The sympathies of our souls
can only tell each other how tender my love and gratitude to you
is, and how vividly I feel every new trial or new thing with you
and for you. * * *

I was with another poor woman, even worse off, this morning, and on
the third day she was walking in the room and nearly fainted from
weakness. Those poor people!

March 26th.

* * * Yesterday morning at nine we took the Sacrament--all the
family and congregation together. The others then stopped for the
rest of the service, till after eleven. I went home and returned
for the English service at twelve. At half-past six, in the
Stadtkirche, Bach’s “Passion” was given.

April 5th.

To-day is Victoria’s birthday. What a day it was this time last
year! Baby has her table in the room next to my sitting-room. Uncle
Louis and the rest of the family expected to breakfast with us at
twelve.

MUNICH, April 11th.

* * * To-day, for the first time since the King’s death,[39] the
Queen and we all with our Gefolge [suite] dined in the Winter
Garden. It seemed to try her very much, but she is so wonderfully
quiet that she scarcely shows it. I was three hours with her
yesterday evening. She spoke so kindly of you and with such
sympathy and interest, and said, when dear Papa died, she had
prayed for you so much.

MUNICH, April 13th.

* * * Between sight-seeing, and going to the Queen’s room, and
being with her, I have not a moment scarcely to rest or write.
Yesterday we visited the whole Schloss full of frescoes, and the
studios of all the famous painters--so interesting. How dear Papa
would have enjoyed it! I was thinking the whole time what he would
have thought of certain pictures, and how much he would have
admired some. But at all times seeing things, and most of all
pictures, is fatiguing.

DARMSTADT, April 21st.

* * * On Monday Louis goes into the country to shoot capercailzies
[_Auerhahne_]. I accompany him part of the way, but stop at
Schweinsberg with Christa’s parents. The air is very good there,
and we thought the country would do me good.

* * * We shall leave probably later [for England], after or just
before your birthday. We have a great deal to do in London for our
house, for which I should want a week; and from Windsor to leave
you for a whole week I should not like, and to go up constantly is
rather tiring.

We go from Mayence to Rotterdam by steamer, from thence by rail to
Antwerp, and then wait for good weather to cross, so that we shall
be long under way, but quite easily and comfortably.

April 25th.

* * * We shall leave the week of your birthday. Louis wishes us to
have a full fortnight in London.

SCHWEINSBERG, April 28th.

* * * This is a charming country house, in a lovely healthy
country; the air has already done me much good. Christa’s parents
are charming, clever people, and the life is quiet and refreshing.
On Saturday I expect Louis, and then we shall go home.

DARMSTADT, May 14th.

Many thanks for your letter, and above all for your great kindness
about the ships, for which I thank you many times.

Christa and Becker wrote an account of the wedding,[40] so I won’t
write any more about it save that it went off very well and was
very _vornehm_ and well-arranged. * * *

I have borne the fatigues well; but two days before, for two days
and one night, I was very unwell. * * * Dr. Weber is a clever man,
and is _vielseitig_ [many-sided] in his views on medicine and
treatment of illnesses. I think you will like him.

Baby runs alone through two rooms without falling now; she learnt
it in a week. She will amuse you so much. Yesterday Louis drove me
and his two brothers in a break, and baby went with us much
enchanted.

May 17th.

* * * To-morrow afternoon Fritz and Anna leave. To-day the town
gives a large ball, to which we all go, and before it there is a
dinner at the Schloss.

May 21st.

* * * It is excessively hot, which makes me so tired and weak. I am
sure you suffered dreadfully from the heat.

The parting from Anna three days ago was dreadful; she so
distressed, and her parents also. * * * They begin their old age
alone, so to say, for there are no children in their house any
more. It makes us both very sad to leave them, and seems so
unfeeling; but we shall return to them soon. What a blessing that
you have Beatrice and two brothers, still boys; and yet, for one
alone what an anxiety!

MARLBOROUGH HOUSE, May 26th.

Arrived here at half-past eleven, and quite rested. I at once write
to you to thank you for your letter and for the great comfort of
the ships. I feel so much better already from the air on the Rhine
those two days, and the fresh sea air, that I have borne the
journey this way with but little fatigue. I find Bertie and Alix
both looking well, and the baby so pretty and dear.

I slept during the whole night passage, as I went to bed early. I
had about twelve hour’s sleep, which has completely set me up.
Louis is paying visits. We have lunched, and in the afternoon
Bertie and Alix have promised to call on Lady Augusta and Dean
Stanley, and we join them. Aunt Cambridge and Mary we shall see
afterward.

* * * * *

[From May to August the Princess was in England on a visit to the Queen.]

* * * * *

KRANICHSTEIN, August 30th.

* * * I have stood the journey well, though I am rather fatigued.
It is very warm. Louis is off to Jugenheim. I am to go there
to-morrow, and it takes my whole day, as it is so far. I have seen
none of the family yet. I was so distressed to part from dear
Ernest and Marie, they were so dear and good all along the journey.
The weather was beautiful and the passage good.

September 2d.

* * * I am so glad that, from all accounts, every thing went off so
very well at Perth[41]; it must have been most trying to you, and
yet satisfactory. We read all the accounts you kindly sent us with
much interest.

* * * The Emperor [of Russia] with his second and third sons
arrived yesterday. We saw him at the station at Darmstadt, but did
not join them as the rest of the family did. We go to Jugenheim
to-day and baby with us, as little Serge,[42] who is just
Beatrice’s age, has such a passion for her. The children are very
nice, the two older sons very big. Uncle Gustav is here, which
makes me think of you here this time last year.

September 13th.

* * * Two days ago we had intense heat, and since great cold--the
two extremes constantly, which is so unwholesome. The Emperor is
very grateful for your message, and sends his best remembrance. * *
* There were seven young men to dinner yesterday, and your glass
was used for the first time and looked so pretty.

September 17th.

* * * The Emperor and Empress [of Russia] before leaving took a
most tender farewell of us, and she gave me their Order. They
return to Darmstadt on the 27th for a fortnight, as it is now
settled that the Empress is to spend the winter at Nice, and she
may not go there till the beginning of October at the soonest, as
it would be too warm.

* * * We are in the middle of the second volume of Froude,[43] but
it is too detailed to interest you; you have far too much to do to
be interested in it. * * * Robertson’s beautiful sermons we have
also read together, and I have discovered that a German translation
exists, and have ordered one.

Mrs. Hardinge[44] leaves me the end of this month, I am sorry to
say; for she is very nice, discreet, and ready to do any thing, and
not at all of the present bad English _genre_.

September 20th.

* * * What you say about the poor sisters, and indeed of all the
younger ones, is true. The little brothers and Beatrice are those
who have lost the most, poor little things! I can’t bear to think
of it, for dear Papa, more peculiarly than any other father, was
wanted for his children; and he was the dear friend, and even
playfellow, besides. Such a loss as ours is indeed unique. Time
only increases its magnitude, and the knowledge of the want is felt
more keenly.

* * * I was yesterday in our little house, arranging and clearing
out the rooms. We shall have very close quarters, but it will not
be uncomfortable.

* * * I often wish dear Papa could have seen what a treasure I have
in my darling; but I am sure he does see it, and his blessing with
yours rests on us, for we seem not separated from either of you,
our life is so interwoven with yours.

Where people are unselfish, loving, good, and industrious, like my
dear Louis, I always feel a certain likeness beginning to grow up
with our dear angel Father! Don’t you? Oh, may we all only become
like him! I struggle so hard, dear Mama, in the many little trials
I daily have, to become more like him. My trials melt away when I
think of you, and I wish I were great and strong to be able to bear
some of your great trials for you. Dear Mama, how I love you! how
we both love you, and would shield you with our love from all new
blows and trials, you know. God comfort you! My heart is often too
full to say all that is in it; to tell you all my love and
devotion, for your own precious sake, and for dear Papa’s, who left
you as a legacy to us all to love and to cherish for him.

September 23d.

To-morrow Louis, I, and my two ladies, take the sacrament in the
little church here. I wished much to take it before my hour of
trial comes. Dear Louis read to me yesterday evening Robertson’s
sermon on the “Sympathy of Christ.”

We have fine autumn weather, and I am out as much as I can. * * * I
sleep well and breakfast always at half-past eight; we dine at two,
and take supper at eight, then my ladies read aloud, and I work or
Christa plays, Louis reads his papers, etc. To myself I read Lord
Malmesbury’s “Memoirs,” which are very curious, and when Louis has
time he reads Froude to me.

KRANICHSTEIN, October 4th.

* * * To-morrow dear Uncle Leopold [King of the Belgians] comes for
a few hours. Louis will go to Darmstadt or Mayence to meet him, and
I will receive him at the station, as none of the family know him.
Louis is out shooting with the Emperor. Uncle Alexander’s throat
has already begun to be bad again.

* * * I am writing quite a confused letter in the midst of
household troubles, for the Emperor and Empress have just let me
know that they wish to breakfast here, and Louis is out, and I
don’t know where or how to have the things in our small _ménage_. I
must therefore conclude and do my business.

October 7th.

* * * I had the pleasure of seeing dear Uncle two days ago looking
wonderfully well, and kind and dear as ever. * * * To-day I must go
to a large family dinner. Fritz and Anna of Hesse, Grand Duchess
Marie, and Prince and Princess William of Baden, besides ourselves,
the family, and the Emperor and Empress.

DARMSTADT, October 14th.

We are at length here, in great disorder, and I have been waiting
half an hour only for a pen to be found. I am tired and not very
well. * * * Augusta [Lady Augusta Stanley] being with you I am very
glad of, and she must be such a comfort to you, for besides being
such a friend, she has that peculiar charm of manner which all the
Bruces possess.

October 21st.

* * * I am so grieved about poor Louise; she will want much care
and attention.

Lady Car. [Caroline Barrington] is here since yesterday evening to
my great delight, and is not looking the worse for her journey.

October 29th.

* * * To-morrow we expect Vicky and Fritz [Crown Prince and
Princess of Prussia] for two hours, and later Bertie and Alix on
their way back from Amorbach, for a few hours. I shall be delighted
to see them.

October 31st.

* * * Yesterday we had the pleasure of having dear Vicky and Fritz
and baby here for two hours, the former well and in such good
looks, as I have not seen her for long. The baby is a love, and
very pretty. We were very glad after a year’s separation to meet
again, and Vicky was so dear and loving. I always admire her
understanding and brightness each time I see her again; and Fritz
so good, so excellent. Bertie and Alix we expect in a day or two
for a short visit. It is very cold, but not unpleasant. I go out
twice a day.

DARMSTADT, November 7th.

* * * The little daughter[45] was but a momentary disappointment to
us, which we have quite got over. We console ourselves with the
idea that the little pair will look very pretty together.

November 20th.

* * * We are both very much pleased at the arrangements about Brown
and your pony, and I think it is so sensible. I am sure it will do
you good, and relieve a little the monotony of your out-of-door
existence, besides doing your nerves good. I had long wished you
would do something of the kind; for, indeed, only driving is not
wholesome. * * * I have had two drives, which have done me good. *
* * My mother-in-law has been kindness itself all along--so
attentive and yet so discreet. I can’t be grateful enough. My good
father-in-law also. * * * Louis’ mother is to be godmother,
because it is customary here to ask some one of the name the child
is to receive to stand on the occasion. We liked Elizabeth on
account of St. Elizabeth being the ancestress of the Hessian as
well as the Saxon House.

November 26th.

* * * We probably go to Carlsruhe on Wednesday, the only place we
can well go to near by; we can’t take an inn at Baden or any thing
of that sort, and we only go for a week or ten days at most. * * *
I am very well and very careful; all people say I look better, and
have more color than I have had for long, and, indeed, I feel
strong and well, and my fat baby does perfectly, and is a great
darling. Affie and Louis and his brother are out shooting. The
horrid weather has kept me in these three days.

November 29th.

* * * I ought to mention the christening. My mother-in-law held
baby all the time, and it screamed a good deal. Victoria stood with
us and was very good, only kneeling down and tumbling over the
footstool every two minutes, and she kept whispering to me, “Go to
Uncle’s.” I thought so much of the christening last year, when
Victoria behaved much better than her larger dark sister. Ella
measured twenty-three and a half inches a fortnight ago, and she
had not grown then. Victoria, I believe, was twenty inches.

CARLSRUHE, December 5th.

* * * Dear Dr. Macleod is coming with Affie to Darmstadt for the
14th. Vicky and Fritz will be with us also. How kind of him to
come, and it has made Affie so happy, for he is so devoted to him.

DARMSTADT, December 10th.

* * * We returned here yesterday, after a very pleasant stay at
Carlsruhe. It was very quiet, and we were always _en famille_. We
had the opportunity of speaking much with Fritz, who is in every
way so distinguished, and dear Louise is so good and kind.

I have very little time to write to-day, as we arrived late last
night. Louis has to be absent to-day, so I have a great deal to do.

December 15th.

I had not a moment to myself to write to you yesterday, and to
thank you for the kind lines you sent me through dear Dr. Macleod.
He gave us a most beautiful service, a sermon giving an outline of
dear Papa’s noble, great and good character, and there were most
beautiful allusions to you in his prayer, in which we all prayed
together most earnestly for you, precious Mama!

We talked long together afterward about dear Papa, and about you,
and though absent were very near you in thought and prayer.

Dear Vicky talked so lovingly and tenderly of you, and of how
homesick she sometimes felt. She was not with us on that dreadful
day three years ago, and that is so painful to her. Dear Affie was,
as we all were, so much overcome by all Dr. Macleod said. Vicky,
Affie, Louis, and myself sat in the little dining-room; he read to
us there. Fritz had left early in the morning. The day was passed
quietly and peaceably together, and I was most grateful to have
dear Vicky and Affie with me on that day. My dear Louis wishes me
to express to you how tenderly he thought of you and with what
sympathy on this sad anniversary. Never can we cease talking of
home, of you and of all your trials. God bless and comfort you, my
own dear Mama!

1865.

In the month of January of this year the Prince and Princess were at last able to carry out their intentions of visiting Berlin, which had several times been postponed. The Princess met with the greatest kindness and attention from the King and Queen of Prussia, who had been much attached to her since her childhood.

A great grief fell upon the Grand Ducal family through the death of the young Grand Duchess of Mecklenburg-Schwerin, Prince Louis’ only sister, whose recent marriage had given so much satisfaction to the family, and who died on the 16th of April, a few days after giving birth to a daughter.

About the same time, the Cesarewitch Nicholas, eldest son of the Emperor of Russia, died at Nice. He was his mother’s favorite son, and had been engaged to be married to Princess Dagmar of Denmark (present Empress of Russia), the sister of the Princess of Wales. Princess Alice endeavored with all a daughter’s love and sympathy to cheer her parents-in-law under their heavy bereavement.

While the Prince and Princess were absent in Switzerland at the Riga Kaltbad in the Bernese Alps, Queen Victoria spent one day at Kranichstein, and on the 26th of August gathered all her children round her at Coburg. On that day the Prince Consort’s statue on the market-place at Coburg was unveiled.

The yearly visit to England took place in the autumn, and the Prince and Princess spent a longer time than usual in the Highlands, where they made many delightful excursions.

Soon after their return to Germany, the sad news reached them of the death of the King of the Belgians. Endeared by his personal character to his family and friends, he was also by reason of his statesmanlike qualities recognized as one of the most remarkable sovereigns of Europe.

Although Princess Alice had lived but a short time at Darmstadt, she had already become the acknowledged centre of social life in that town. Her liberal and independent spirit, conflicting as it did with many local prejudices, exposed her to many criticisms; still, no one who came in contact with her could resist the charm of her appearance and manner. The Princess had, so to speak, not “yet taken root” in her adopted country; but, acute and close observer as she was, she soon found where her own sphere of occupation lay, and what the agencies were by which she could work out her plans.

Her letters show the love she bore to her new family, and the many useful enterprises which she now initiated for the well being of the country.

January 1st.

* * * Thousand thanks for your dear words and for the wishes! I
was thinking so much of you and of home, when your letter came in.
It made me so happy! Darling Mama, I can feel so much with and for
you during these days. I was all day on the verge of tears, for the
very word “_Neujahr_” brought Papa and Grandmama, and all at
Windsor as in former days, so vividly before me, it made my heart
ache! That bright happy past, particularly those last years, when I
was the eldest at home, and had the privilege of being so much with
you both, my own dearly loved parents, is a remembrance deeply
graven, and with letters of gold, upon my heart. All the morning I
was telling Louis how it used to be at home, and how we all
assembled outside your dressing-room door to scream in chorus
“_Prosit Neujahr_!” and to give to you and Papa our drawings,
writings, etc., the busy occupation of previous weeks. Then playing
and reciting our pieces, where we often stuck fast, and dear Papa
bit his lip so as not to laugh; our walk to the riding-school
[where the alms to the poor were distributed], and then to
Frogmore. Those were happy days, and the very remembrance of them
must bring a gleam of sunshine even to you, dear Mama. Those two
dinners, when I was with you both, were such happy evenings. I am
so grateful I remained at home, and lost not a day of those happy
ones.

At eight this morning we two went to church; at half-past three
there was a large dinner at the Schloss. I wore the bracelet with
your pictures, as I always do on all particular days, for I like to
be able to look at those dear faces.

January 2d.

We mean to go out sledging. The cold, and all the ground being
white this last month, has given me such bad eyes. I can do
nothing of an evening at all, and reading even by daylight makes
them so bad that they get quite red. The ladies read to me,
instead, all sorts of instructive things. Louis has already found
time to read through a whole volume of the “Lives of the
Engineers.”[46] You could not have sent any thing that would
interest him more. He thanks you so much for the pretty New Year’s
wish also.

January 14th.

Thousand thanks for your dear letter, for the nice enclosure from
Dr. Macleod, and for the beautiful sermon by Dean Stanley. One
remark struck me as singularly applicable to dear Papa, where he
says: “To die is gain; to be no longer vexed with the sight of
evil, which they cannot control,” etc.--for dear Papa _suffered_
when he saw others do wrong; it pained that good pure spirit: and
though we long for him and want him, if we could call him
back--even you who want him so much, I think would pause before you
gave vent to the wish that would recall him. * * *

When trials come, what alone save faith and hope in a blessed
future can sustain one!

* * * You can’t think how much I am interested in every little
detail of your daily life. Besides, you know it cannot be
otherwise. Please say kindest things to Brown,[47] who must be a
great convenience to you.

January 20th.

* * * The more one studies and tries to understand those wonderful
laws which rule the world, the more one wonders, worships, and
admires that which to us is so incomprehensible; and I always
wonder how there can be dissatisfied and grumbling people in this
beautiful world, so far too good for our deserts, and where, after
our duty is done, we hope to be everlastingly with those we love,
where the joy will be so great and lasting that present sorrow and
trouble must melt away before that sunshine.

January 23d.

* * * We have rain and warm high wind, and leave at four o’clock
this afternoon. Ella has her bath as a bed, and Victoria sleeps in
the bassinet, which is done up with chintz for the occasion. I
don’t think they can catch cold. There is a stove in the centre
compartment besides. You can fancy I feel shy going to Berlin into
a perfectly new society; and I have been so little out on the whole
since the year 1861. Marie Grancy[48] goes with us.

BERLIN, January 29th.

* * * The journey went off very well, and we are so happy to be
here. Vicky and Fritz are kindness itself, and Vicky so dear, so
loving! I feel it does me good, that there is a reflection of
Papa’s great mind in her. He loved her so much, and was so proud of
her. The King is, as always, very kind, and so pleased to see us
here. Louis is very happy to meet his old comrades again, and they
equally so to see him; and I am so glad that he can have this
amusement at least, for he is so kind in not leaving me--and our
life must be rather dull sometimes for a young man of spirit like
him.

BERLIN, February 1st.

* * * Affie arrived at eight this morning. I am sure the King will
be so pleased at your having let him come now. He is so kind to me;
it touches me very much, for I have never done any thing to deserve
it.

BERLIN, February 4th.

* * * I have not been sight-seeing anywhere, as it is too cold for
that. We drive in a shut carriage, and then walk in the
Thiergarten. We spend the whole day together, which is a great
enjoyment to me, and of an evening we go out together. It is so
pleasant to have a sister to go out with, and all the people are so
kind and civil to us.

Sigismund[49] is the greatest darling I have ever seen--so
wonderfully strong and advanced for his age--with such fine color,
always laughing, and so lively he nearly jumps out of our arms.

This house is very comfortable, and Vicky is surrounded with
pictures of you and dear Papa--near her bed, on all her tables--and
such endless souvenirs of our childhood: it made me quite
_wehmüthig_ [sad] to see all the things I had not seen for seven
years, and since we lived together as children--souvenirs of
Christmases and birthdays from you both, and from dear Grandmama,
from Aunt Gloucester, etc. It awakened a thousand old remembrances
of happy past times.

BERLIN, February 7th.

* * * How much do I think of you now, the happy Silver Wedding that
would have been, where you could have been surrounded by so many of
us! Poor Mama, I do feel so deeply for you. Oh, may I be long, if
not altogether, spared so awful a calamity!

Morning, noon, and night do I thank the Almighty for _our_
happiness, and pray that it may last.

These lines are for the dear 10th,[50] though they will reach you
on the eve; and they are to tell you from Louis and myself how
tenderly we think of you on that day, and of darling Papa, who made
that day what it was. It will be a day of great trial to you, I
fear. May the Almighty give you strength and courage to bear it! I
am sure the dear sisters and brothers who are at home will try to
cheer you with their different loving ways--above all, little
Beatrice, the youngest of us all.

Louis goes to Schwerin to-morrow until Friday. They wanted us to go
together, but one journey is enough at this time of the year.

BERLIN, February 11th.

* * * We have been sledging these two days; it is very cold, and
the rooms mostly very hot. When we go out of an evening, we are
packed up from head to foot. My dear Louis returned from Schwerin
at five this morning, pleased with his visit. He found the Castle
fine and comfortable, and its inmates very happy.

BERLIN, February 14th.

* * * We leave next Saturday. I shall be so sorry to leave dear
Vicky, for she is often so much alone. Fritz is really so
excellent, it is a pleasure to look at his dear good face; and he
is worked so hard--no health can stand it in the long run.

BERLIN, February 17th.

* * * This will be my last letter from here, and I only regret
leaving here on account of parting with dear Vicky and Fritz, whom
we see so rarely, and usually but for a short time. I have passed
such pleasant hours with dear Vicky: that is what I shall look back
to with so much pleasure and satisfaction.

DARMSTADT, February 21st.

I write once more from our dear little home, which I find very
cold; snow and ice everywhere still--it seems as if winter would
never end. We accomplished our journey very well. Poor Vicky will
miss us very much, I fear, in the many hours when she is alone, and
which we spent together. Writing does not make up for it.

We give a large masked ball in the Palace at Fastnacht [Shrove
Tuesday], which is to-day week. It is the first thing we do for the
society, and I hope it will go off well. I found so much to do
since my return that I can write no more.

Before closing I must mention though, that yesterday evening I
heard “Elijah” beautifully given. How I thought of dear Papa!
Nearly every note brought back to mind observations he made about
it. I thought I could see him, and hear his dear sweet voice
turning round to me with quite watery eyes, saying, “_Es ist doch
gar zu schön_” [“It is really quite too lovely.”]

Adored Papa! how he loved this fine music; the harmony in it seems
like the harmony of souls, and Mendelssohn’s music is so good,
_fromm_ [pious]--I mean, it makes one better to hear it. In the
second part, in an air of “Elijah” toward the end, I found the part
from which those beautiful responses are taken which Cusins
arranged, and which Papa liked so much.

February 27th.

* * * I can write but a very short letter to-day, having so much to
do for our ball. I have made a sketch of my costume, which is the
same I wore at Berlin at the masked ball at Putbuses. Louis wears
part of the Garter Costume.

March 4th.

* * * My parents-in-law leave the middle of this month for
Schwerin. * * * My mother-in-law fears that Anna will be badly
managed and treated quite after the old fashion, and she won’t be
able to help her, she fears. Anna is not very strong, and if she is
starved and kept from the air, it will certainly do her harm.

I have written to dear Tilla.[51] To think of home without her
seems too sad, but I hope you will invite her sometimes. Every one
liked her in the house, she was so gentle and so kind. I shall
never forget what I owe her, and I ever loved her most dearly. But
she has never been the same again since 1861. It gave her a
dreadful shock; she had such a veneration for darling Papa.

I hope this year we can show you our house, though it will not be
far enough advanced for you to live in. For another year, I hope,
we could make you so comfortable.

DARMSTADT, March 6th.

* * * I am reading at this moment a book by Herr von Arneth--the
publication of letters from Maria Theresa to Marie Antoinette from
1770-80. I recommend it to you. The letters are short and
interesting, and it would amuse you to take it up now and then,
when you have a leisure moment. The advice the Empress gives her
daughter is so good; she was a very wise mother.

I have read and studied a great deal about the human body; about
children--their treatment, etc. It interests me immensely.
Besides, it is always useful to know such things, so that one is
not perfectly ignorant of the reasons why doctors wish one to do
certain things, and why not. In any moment of illness, before there
is time for a doctor to come, one can be able to help one’s self a
little. I know you don’t like these things, and where one is
surrounded by such as dear Sir James [Clark] and Dr. Jenner, it is
perfectly unnecessary and pleasanter _not_ to know a good deal.
Instead of finding it disgusting, it only fills me with admiration
to see how wonderfully we are made.

DARMSTADT, March 11th.

* * * Westerweller does not accompany us this time to England; he
may join us in June. A former playfellow of Louis, Ferdinand
Rabenau, accompanies us. Affie knows him and likes him. We think of
starting on the 3d, and passing by Brussels to see dear Uncle
Leopold. Uncle Louis is still at Nice, and does not return here, it
seems, until the Emperor and Empress meet for April 24th--the
Emperor’s birthday. My mother-in-law is very grateful for your kind
message. She seems very nervous about Anna.

Victoria is teething, which makes her pale and poorly. Ella’s
vaccination did _not_ take, and we have the small-pox here.

March 18th.

My poor children have been confined to the house with dreadful
colds and coughs. Victoria looks the most pulled, though Ella’s
cough was much more violent. I am happy to say that they are really
better to-day; but we have snow every day, and that makes their
recovery slower.

Yesterday night part of a large seed manufactory close by, near
the artillery barracks, was burnt down. The flames were enormous,
but the damage done was not great.

My parents-in-law are in Berlin, and after to-morrow they go to
Schwerin.

Last night we heard _Cosi fan tutte_ given to perfection. The music
is most charming, and I had never heard it before.

April 1st.

* * * Since some days the snow is many feet deep; one can get about
in sledges, and Louis drove me in one with four horses this
morning. All intercourse by carriage is impossible, and this is
very inconvenient to the people in the country where their “Post”
cannot drive.

April 4th.

I must begin by telling you how much pleasure your telegram has
given me. It is like my own dear Mama to have her arms open for
those who want her kind support; and I can only repeat again, that
with you, and under your care alone, should I like to leave my
little ones so long! To them, indeed, it will in every way be an
advantage, and I shall be quite easy in leaving them there, where I
know they will have every care which can be given; and it would
make us both so happy to feel that in this way we could give you
some little pleasure.

Westerweller and Becker both wish very much we may take this
winter, D.V., for a journey. As long as we have fewer servants and
this small house, it is easy to break up the whole
establishment--later, this will be less possible. Louis has never
been able to travel, and the advantage of seeing other parts of the
world would be so great for him. Without me he would not do it; he
says, alone he should not enjoy it. I urge this journey
principally for his sake, and I hope you will support me in this.
Since our marriage we have seen nothing, and all who can try to
enlarge their knowledge. From books alone it becomes tedious and
less advantageous.

Victoria is going to have a party of thirty children to-morrow in
Prince Charles’ rooms. The snow is thawing at length, and the sun
is much too hot. The sudden spring is not pleasant. We have been
out riding, and this evening I shall accompany Louis to the
Schnepfenstrich [woodcock-shooting[52]], which in a fine evening,
when the birds sing, is lovely.

April 8th.

* * * We shall be delighted to receive you in Kranichstein, and if
you will send your suite all to Darmstadt we shall be able to
arrange, though we have not one spare room anywhere, and I feel you
will be rather squeezed. How I look forward to meeting you again,
after a year of separation, I can’t say; and I am so glad that it
will be under our roof that our joyful embrace will take place. As
Uncle Louis is to have the Garter, may not Affie bring it to him
_without_ ceremony? He would like it so much better if it can be
so.

On the 17th Louis goes to Oberhessen to shoot _capercailzies_, and
he deposits me and the children at Lich on his way, where he will
join us again for my birthday.

Anna was safely delivered of a little girl this morning, and is
doing well.

April 15th.

* * * We have been very anxious about Anna[53] the last few days,
for she has had fever since the 9th, and shivering still yesterday.

We have a great deal to do this morning, so I can write but
shortly.

We have fine weather at length, and are out a great deal.

Yesterday we took the Sacrament at nine, and numbers of people with
us. The service lasted till past eleven, with a pause between.

April 18th.

This is really a dreadfully sad death in our family, and will be a
blow to my dear parents-in-law, which will weigh them down for many
a day. They who lived so retired, and to whom the family life was
all--Anna, the pet--“_das Prinzesschen_,” whom they gave up so
unwillingly, and with whom they corresponded daily! It will be a
blank in their existence, which I can’t bear to think of! Such
tender loving parents! My poor Louis was dreadfully distressed,
though he feared the worst all along since we knew that Anna had
fever. He left with Grolmann, having passed a dreadful morning. All
the old servants, tutors, friends, came crying to us. Since he is
gone I have passed sad lonely hours; and poor old Amelung comes[54]
and sits in my room, sobbing that she should ever have lived to see
this day.

Yesterday morning I went to the Rosenhahe and picked flowers from
Anna’s garden, and wound a large wreath, which I have sent to Louis
to place on her coffin. The three brothers feel it dreadfully--the
first rent in the family circle is always hard to bear, and she so
young, so good, so happy! I hear the poor little baby is nice.

Yesterday night Anna was taken into the Schlosskirche [Palace
Chapel] upon Louis’ arrival, after a journey of twenty-seven hours.
I hope he won’t be ill after all this _Gemüthsbewegung_ [strain
upon his feelings], and fatigue always upsets him and makes him
sick, and he feels all so deeply and warmly. It is so shocking. I
can think of nothing else; and I am very low and sad being so
alone, and the warm weather makes one unwell.

The poor Cesarewitch has passed a tolerable night. I fear he is so
reduced he can’t get through it. The Empress doats on this son, and
he is so like her. The poor Emperor has left for Nice.

April 21st.

Oh, it is sad, very sad! Life indeed is but a short journey, on
which we have our duty to do, and in which joy and sorrow
alternately prevail. Anna was very good, very unselfish, and a true
Christian, with her gentle, humble spirit, and as such she was
loved and admired. What rare people my parents-in-law and their
children are, I can’t tell you--such childlike faith, such pure
unselfish love to each other; I really feel unworthy to belong to
them, and they are dear to me beyond description. As I have shared
their joys, so with all my heart do I share their sorrow, and
fervently pray for them! You will understand this, darling Mama.
From you I have inherited an ardent and sympathizing spirit, and
feel the pain of those I love as though it were my own. To-morrow I
have wished that there should be in the Palace Chapel a funeral
service at the same time as the funeral at Schwerin, and all the
people here seemed pleased at my wish. Bender, who taught her,
confirmed her, and who married her not a year ago in that very
church, will perform the service.

Poor Dagmar! what a journey for her, poor child! She begins her
troubles early enough.

April 24th.

* * * Many thanks for your kind letter, and for all the kind wishes
for my birthday. It will be sad and quiet; but I hope my beloved
Louis will arrive to-night, and be with me again--such cause for
joy and thankfulness. When I have _him_, all sorrow is turned into
peace and happiness. Could I but know you still had darling Papa at
your side, how light would my heart be! Once when we have all
fulfilled our allotted duties, and overcome that dark night, then,
please God, we shall be together, never again to part!

The sympathy of all does my sorrowing family good, for it soothes
so much! I had a few lines so tender, so full of faith, from my
dear mother-in-law to-day. Since Ella’s birth I know to understand
and love her most dearly. She suffered dreadfully, but no complaint
passes her lips. She consoles her husband, her son-in-law, and
this, with prayer, enables her to bear that which has almost broken
her heart.

April 25th.

* * * Dear Louis returned last night well, and bringing good
accounts of his parents. They remain there still a little longer,
to arrange Anna’s things. At Frankfort, at eleven last night, we
met; it was so warm.

The poor Cesarewitch is gone! The Emperor and Empress are coming
here in ten days; what sad meetings.

How warm it has been daily since a fortnight, I can’t tell you! We
sit all day in the garden, take tea there, drawing-lessons, etc.

April 29th.

I thank you so much for your kind sympathizing letter. All my
family are so grateful for all the kindness and sympathy you have
shown them on this sad occasion.

To-day Uncle Louis arrives; on Monday the Emperor and Empress, and
children. What a sad meeting! They go to Jugenheim direct, where
last year they were so happy all together. I hear the Empress is
worn out, mind and body; and she insists, instead of finishing her
cure, on going in a fortnight to St. Petersburg to meet the remains
of her child, and to do him the last honors. Louis fears that it
will be more than her feeble frame can endure. In the Greek Church,
too, the night Masses are long and exhausting, and she is sure to
wish to do all.

We spent my birthday as every other day, and the weather was
heavenly. I am painting in oil now, and that interests me much. I
find it much easier than water-colors.

I hope Affie will come to pay his respects to the Russians. If you
send them a kind message through him, it would please them much.

May 2d.

* * * How well I understand your compassion being alike for
mourners in all positions of life. It is but right and natural, and
I can’t imagine one’s feeling otherwise.

May 6th.

To-morrow morning my poor parents-in-law arrive. What a meeting,
and what a return! My father-in-law and the Empress[55] are each
other’s favorites, and understand each other so perfectly. It will
be a consolation to both to pour their hearts out to each other,
and share each other’s sorrow. My dear father-in-law wrote to Aunt
Marie: “Although my heart is sorely depressed, yet it is even more
filled with gratitude than with sorrow, that the dear God has given
us two such dear children, though but for a brief space.” He is so
touching in his grief.

May 8th.

I find my dear parents-in-law pretty well, but poor Mama so
terribly tired. She was dreadfully overcome in coming home, and at
the several meetings. He looks much older, as, indeed, does also
the poor Emperor, who parted yesterday to go to St. Petersburg.
Dear Aunt Marie seems very weak, and they both, together with my
parents, make such a sad picture to look at. But they all like to
speak of those they have lost. My parents-in-law and we go this
week to Uncle Louis, to Seeheim for three weeks.

SEEHEIM, May 12th.

You can’t think what real pleasure your pretty locket gave my
mother-in-law. She was deeply touched by the kind thought and the
considerate attention of the gift--with what was engraved on it.
She was so very much pleased with it, and put it on the moment she
received it. The photograph is to be put in. To-day, Anna’s
wedding-day, it arrived.

We have been here since yesterday afternoon--my parents-in-law and
Uncle Louis. The suite are on leave of absence, so we are quite _en
famille_.

Yesterday, Serge’s birthday, we went with Uncle and Aunt to the
Greek Mass, which lasted more than an hour. We dine daily at the
Heiligenberg. This morning also we were there with our parents and
children; and Aunt Marie [the Empress of Russia] kept Ella half an
hour on her lap, playing with her, which the little one enjoyed
very much, as she is particularly sociable and amiable. Victoria
romped with her cousins--Aunt Marie’s two, and Uncle Alexander’s
four.

SEEHEIM, May 15th.

* * * To-day Michael and Cécile arrive, and on Tuesday the Emperor
and Empress recommence their journey homeward. The return will be
for both most trying. Aunt Marie spoke with me about her sons,
their education, etc., very long last night. Her whole life she has
studied and lived for Nike [the late Cesarewitch], that he might
become that which was necessary for his future; and she was much
more with him, and they were both much more intimate together, than
she is with her other children. Affie came here on Saturday, and I
am so glad to have him and hear some news of you. At this moment he
and William are in the room shooting at a target out of the window,
which makes no little noise.

May 20th.

* * * We mean to remain here in the Bergstrasse with our parents;
is seems to console them; but my father-in-law makes me very
anxious, and is so nervous. Poor Mama! so soft, so tired, so unlike
herself, _cela fait pitié_.

On the fifth the Grand Duke is going to receive the Garter. You
shall have an account of all.

Affie is here, and to-day dear Arthur comes for a few hours. I
shall be so pleased to see him again.

SEEHEIM, May 21st.

* * * Yesterday the Emperor and Empress and children left. So sorry
to see them go! God knows when we shall all meet here again. We
have been so much together and so intimately, that I have grown
very fond of them, and am very sad at the thought of the long and
uncertain separation. Dear little Arthur was here, looking very
well. The wooded hills here are so nice to ride about on, and the
country is very beautiful.

May 31st.

I read serious books a great deal, and of a Sunday together we read
out of Robertson’s sermons. In the second series there is one, “The
Irreparable Past” for young people, so cheering, so encouraging, so
useful. Louis read it to me on his return from Schwerin after poor
Anna’s death. A short life indeed, and it makes one feel the
uncertainty of life, and the necessity of labor, self-denial,
charity, and all those virtues which we ought to strive after. Oh,
that I may die, having done my work and not sinned with
_Unterlassung des Guten_ [omission to do what is good], the fault
into which it is easiest to fall.

Our life being so quiet gives one much time for earnest thought,
and I own it is discouraging to find how much one fails--how small
the step of improvement is.

I suffer still so much, and so often, from rheumatism. I am taking
warm soda-baths in the morning for it, and am rubbed afterward with
towels which have been dipped in cold water and then wrung out. It
is not very pleasant.

June 4th.

* * * The weather is very beautiful, and we had tea yesterday at
Schönberg, the castle of young Count Erbach, whom Louis presented
to you at Windsor. Could you tell us for certain when you intend
going to Coburg, and when we are expected there, as we are going to
the sea to bathe for Victoria and myself, and we would arrange our
time accordingly? I require some sea air after the great heat, and
after baby’s weaning; also before Scotland it would be good, for I
have so much rheumatism. Some sea water will strengthen me.

June 7th.