Chapter IV: Part 4

* * * You know how very Scotch we both are. Louis is devotedly
attached to Scotland and his Scotch friends. Do tell them so
always. But now I must tell you of yesterday. In the morning Affie,
we, and our suite, drove into town for the investiture. At half
past three I drove with my ladies, a Kammerherr [Chamberlain],
Becker, etc., to the Schloss, where Uncle Louis received us in
_shorts_! Then Affie and Louis in their whole Garter dress arrived
in a carriage with six horses and an escort. Uncle Louis, before
the throne, and the family, Court, corps diplomatique, etc.,
received them. Affie read in English the address, to which Uncle
Louis answered in German; then Affie buckled on the Garter; then
Louis helped him to put on ribbon, cloak, etc., and fastened the
sword on him, which was no easy task; but they acquitted themselves
to perfection, and went out through the long Kaisersaal backward,
bowing.

There was a large dinner afterward, at which your health was
proposed by Uncle Louis, and in return Affie gave his. You have
made a happy man, and he feels the honor--as he said to me in
English--“utmostly”; and he wishes me to repeat once more how
grateful he is to you. * * *

Affie did not return here last night; he slept at Darmstadt, and
left this morning for Amorbach. To-day Uncle Ernest is coming to
us, but only for one night. As we have again to go into town to
fetch him, and it is very warm, I must close.

SEEHEIM, June 15th.

* * * How it will amuse and please us to show the good excellent
Scotchman our home. It is a pleasure to hear of such devotion and
attention to you as Brown’s is, and indeed you are so kind to him,
that his whole happiness must consist in serving so good a
mistress.

I think you will be pleased to hear of a most kind and touching
tribute which the Frauen [women] of Darmstadt have paid me. Two
hundred and fifty have subscribed to have a splendid picture
painted for me, by P. Weber, of Loch Katrine. I am to see it on
Sunday. It is very much admired, and they sent the painter to
Scotland to do it, thinking that something from my own country
would please me most. Is it not kind of them? It has given me so
much pleasure--but of all things the feeling which has prompted
them to do it, as it shows me that, though I have been here so
short a time, they have become attached to me, as I am with all my
heart to my new home and country.

Now about myself. I have weaned Ella, last Saturday, and can say
that my health has never been so good, nor have I been so strong or
looked so fresh and healthy as I do now. When Uncle Ernest saw me
he said I looked again as I did as a girl, only rather fatter.

Ella crawls now, and is very strong; she has her first two teeth.
Victoria is very wild, and speaks more German than English. I think
her rather small, but other people say she is not. She goes out
walking with her Papa before breakfast quite alone, with her hands
in her pockets, and amuses him very much.

June 19th.

Many thanks for your last letter from dear Balmoral. The parting
from that lovely place must always be sad, and there is something
in mountains which attaches one so much to that scenery.

Yesterday was a very trying day for my poor mother-in-law (her
birth-day), and she was very low, but, as all along, so resigned,
so touching in the beautiful way she bears her grief; so unselfish
with it, never wishing to make others sad, or to be less interested
in their concerns than formerly.

Dear Mary Cambridge has been here, and we enjoyed her visit so
much. We took her back to Frankfort to-day, where we gave her and
Aunt Cambridge a luncheon in Uncle Louis’ Palais.

June 21st.

It is warm, but very windy and dusty here; we were nearly blinded
out riding yesterday evening. I am reading that most interesting
History of England by Pauli, in German, which commences with the
Congress of Vienna in 1815, and is, I believe, very detailed and
correct. It gives a sketch also of the reign of George III., and is
so well written one can scarcely lay the book down. It is part of a
work written by the best German professors on England, Russia,
Italy, France, Spain, and Austria in those years, and I am reading
them one after another. They are thick books, and eight volumes.

KRANICHSTEIN, July 2d.

We both thank you for your kind wishes for our wedding-day. It was
rainy and not fine, but we spent it very happily indoors--Affie and
Mary with us. Dr. Weber now wishes (as we should have to go from
Blankenberghe back to Coburg, and then again all the journey back),
that I should not bathe at all this year, as all the good would be
undone by the hurried journey, and the excitement of the sea air
might not be good for Victoria. We are all to go instead for four
weeks to Switzerland, beginning with Rigi Kaltbad, and this we
greatly prefer. We go into the mountains at once for the bracing
air. On Saturday until Tuesday we go to Baden for the christening
of the baby. We both are god-parents.

KRANICHSTEIN, July 10th.

*** Ella already says, since some time, “Papa” and “Mama,” and
calls herself, and crawls, and is very forward and merry--such a
contrast to Victoria, who is so pale and fair, and _now_ thin, for
Ella’s eyes are so dark blue, and her hair of such a rich brown,
that you would never take the little things for sisters. They are
very fond of each other, and so dear together, that they give us
much pleasure. I would not change them for boys, if I could; this
little pair of sisters is so nice, and they can be such friends to
each other.

I hope you will be comfortable here, but we are much annoyed not to
be able to be there to receive you. None of the family will be
here, save perhaps my mother-in-law with poor Fritz Schwerin, who
is expected then.

We mean to start on the 25th, and we go as private people, on
account of the expense. We are only going to Oberland, and sha’n’t
go very far about.

KRANICHSTEIN, July 17th.

*** It was 95° in the shade yesterday at eight in the morning, and
I think the heat increases. Dr. Lyon Playfair lunched with us
yesterday; he is so charming. To-morrow morning at five we go to
Bonn for the day, and shall be there before ten. The heat is too
great to go at any other time. We start next Tuesday evening, and
on Wednesday shall be on the Rigi.

This morning at six o’clock we rode to the exercising--I on a new
horse, for two hours and a half over sand without any shade.

Mary [Duchess of Teck] has been so kind as to give us a boat, which
we expect shortly. It is to be christened “Mary Adelaide,” after
her.

July 24th.

Many thanks for your letter, and for the sad account of Victoria
Brant’s[56] death. It is quite shocking, and she was my dearest
friend of those contemporaries, and the one I saw the most of. “In
the midst of life we are in death”; and the uncertainty of all
earthly things makes life a real earnest, and no dream. Our whole
life should be a preparation and expectation for eternity. Merry as
she was, she was yet very serious and thoughtful; but what a loss
she will be to her poor parents and husband!

I have made all arrangements for your comfort here. I own I do not
like your coming here when we and the whole family are away--it
looks so _odd_! I forgot to tell you, in answer to your question
about Ella’s name, that she of course must be called “Elizabeth,”
_entre nous_ only “Ella,” for she bears my dear mama-in-law’s name.

RIGI KALTBAD, August 1st.

I am enchanted, delighted with this magnificent scenery. Oh, how
you would admire it! When I am sketching, I keep telling Louis how
much more like you would make the things; one can always recognize
the places when you draw them.

We left Darmstadt at eight Wednesday morning, the 26th, slept at
Basel that night, and we got there early enough to see the fine
church in a thunder storm. The next day we only went to Lucerne, as
the weather was not fine enough to ascend the Rigi. It was a lovely
afternoon, and the lake of a marvellous green color. The Pilatus
was quite clear for a few hours. The next morning we two, the
children, Moffat, Harriet the nursery-maid, Logoz and wife, Jäger,
and Beck, our whole party, started in a very crowded steamer for
Wäggis. Splendid weather, though cloudy. We then, on horses and in
chairs carried by three or six men, made our ascent along a
winding, narrow, steep path, below rocks, past ravines, where
little châlets are situated, and all over the green pasture cows
and goats feeding with bells round their necks. Westerweller was
here when we arrived; he acts courier, and when we make long
expeditions remains with the children. This is a very roomy hotel,
crammed full of people, among them some odd Austrian ladies whom we
see below walking on the terrace--very smart, and smoking. We two
have been on mules with a guide--such a funny man, who was a
soldier at Naples, and was at the siege of Gaeta--on all the
expeditions hereabout.

To-morrow we leave, and go till Monday to Buochs, on the other side
of the lake; then to Engelberg, where Uncle Adalbert and his wife
will be. The children are well; Victoria very troublesome, but Ella
good and amiable as ever. As I am writing at the window, the clouds
cover the lake and the lower mountains, and I can only see the
quite high ones with glaciers, which are of such a splendid shape.

The color of the Scotch mountains is, I think, finer; but here they
are, first of all, so enormously high, and then such fine shapes,
and the mountains are studded with trees and rocks down below, and
of a green color.

The air is very light and cold, but the sun intense. We are going
off for the day again on our mules, so I must close. Of course many
funny incidents take place, which I reserve to tell you when we
meet.

I do hope the heat will be over for your journey, and that it will
be fine when you are at our dear Kranichstein. Marie Grancy will be
there to receive you, and do any thing which is required.

ENGELBERG, HOTEL TITLIS, August 8th.

These lines I send by Becker, and hope you will receive them at
Kranichstein. * * * I hope you found all you wanted in the rooms,
and that the meals were as you like them. I ordered all, and wrote
all down before leaving, as I know what you like.

We were for some days at Buochs, a very pretty village; and we
lived in three detachments in different common Swiss houses, very
comfortable on the whole, but not smelling very nice, so that I
could scarcely eat while we were there.

Yesterday morning, in a very funny two-seated carriage with one
horse, we left, the children and servants following in a bigger
carriage. A nearly four hours’ drive through the most beautiful
scenery, up a narrow valley through which the Aa runs, brought us
here. The last two hours are a steep ascent on the side of a
precipice; beautiful vegetation through the wood all the way
upward; view on the high mountains with snow and glaciers close by.
On coming to the top there is a narrow and lovely green valley
studded with peasants’ cottages, and in the centre a Benedictine
Abbey, near which our hotel is situated. The valley is of very
green grass; the tops of the mountains quite rocky, with snow.
Lower down, and skirting the valley, which is quite shut in by the
hills, fine trees; several very high waterfalls, in the style of
the Glassalt (near Balmoral), only much higher. This Alpine valley
is said to give the most perfect idea of a Swiss valley up in the
mountains. One can ascend the Titlis; but it is said to be
dangerous, so we sha’n’t attempt it. We are very careful, and Louis
won’t undertake any thing risky. The scenery seen from the carriage
merely is so splendid that one may well be content with that.
Unfortunately, to-day it pours, and it is very cold. The children
are very well. The journey has really done Victoria good, and she
begins to have an appetite, which with her is a very rare thing.

The next place we go to is Meyringen. We mean to ride there over
the Joch Pass, but the children must go back the same way to get
round, as there is no other way out of this valley. We will leave
them then with Westerweller, and go to the Grindelwald, Interlaken,
etc.; and then return home by the 29th probably. The children are
living in a cottage here also.

PENSION BELLE VUE,
TRACHT BEI BRIENZ,
August 14th.

* * * Our ride from Engelberg over the Joch Pass to Meyringen was
quite beautiful; but a worse way than any we have ever been out on
in Scotland. We were eleven hours on the road, and the sun was
very hot, and the walking on these steep bad paths made one still
hotter; but we enjoyed it very much, and I never saw any thing
grander or more magnificent. * * * I have made little scribbles on
the way. * * * To-day we two with two horses were to have walked
and ridden to the Grindelwald, over the Rosenlaui glacier, and to
have gone on the next day to Interlaken, but the weather is so bad
that it is impossible, and, not being satisfied with the prices,
etc., at the hotel of Meyringen, we came on here, an hour’s drive,
near to the beautiful falls of the Giessbach, which we saw on
Sunday. * * * The weather will determine whether we can make an
expedition to-morrow.

We shall be home on Friday by Thun and Basel, where we sleep. What
day are we to be at Coburg, and for how long exactly? I believe
only two or three days.

The white heather is from above Engelberg, near Brienz.

PENSION BELLE VUE, August 15th.

I have this instant received your dear letter from Kranichstein,
and, though only just returned from an expedition to the Rosenlaui
glacier, I sit down at once to thank you with all my heart for such
dear lines. How glad I am all was comfortable, and that you were
pleased with your day in our nice Kranichstein! I am glad you
missed us a little. * * * But I must tell you of to-day. We drove
to Reichenbach, close to the falls, took a guide and horses, and in
two hours by a steep stony path got to Rosenlaui. The view on the
Wetterhorn, covered with snow, and on the Wellhorn, which is a
rugged rock on the other side of it, the white sparkling glacier,
is quite beautiful. The shapes and immense height of the mountains
are so imposing. I look, admire, wonder; one can’t find words to
express what one feels. How you would admire the scenery! Papa was
so fond of it all.

KRANICHSTEIN, August 21st.

These will be my last lines until we meet. We returned here well,
having unfortunately, though, much rain from Interlaken to Basel.
At Thun we were in the same hotel as Blanche and Mademoiselle
Bernard, and to-morrow we expect Uncle Nemours, Marguerite, and
Alençon, whom we asked to dinner on their way to Frankfort. I am
mostly at the Rosenhöhe with my mama-in-law, as she is quite alone.
I was in town with her, and read to her this morning; she is ever
so dear and kind. I do love her _so much_. Ever since Ella’s birth
we have been drawn so closely to each other, and I admire her also
now that I know and understand her. There is so much beneath, so
much _Gemüth_, tenderness, and delicacy of feeling. It is indeed a
blessing to have such people as they are for parents-in-law.

September 1st.

Uncle George was here yesterday. Vicky remains with us till the
5th, and gives me so much pleasure to be able to repay her for her
hospitality this winter.

We were at the christening of Becker’s baby, which went off so
well. In the morning we had to go through High Mass for the
inauguration of the Grand Duchess’ monument in the Catholic church.

Poor papa-in-law, who went to bathe for his headache, has had such
a return of his cough that he is coming back here on Monday. I hope
they will go to Switzerland later.

KRANICHSTEIN, September 8th.

* * * After having missed the train they intended, to come by,
Bertie and Alix arrived at three o’clock. They dined with us. Louis
then took him to the theatre, and I drove her about.

My poor father-in-law’s throat is very bad, and gives him much
pain. I am really very anxious about him.

We leave to-morrow afternoon at four, and shall spend the following
day at Ostend, embarking in the evening. Till the end of the week
we intend stopping in town, and if Bertie and Alix remain longer,
we shall leave by the limited mail (for Balmoral).

INVERNESS, October 8th.

This is a very fine town, and the country is very beautiful. We
took a walk this morning, and shall drive this afternoon. It was
thought better not to go to a kirk, as the people seemed to look
out for us.

Again a thousand thanks for having arranged this nice journey for
us, which we enjoy so much. I thought so much of you and dear Papa
yesterday during our ride.[57]

SANDRINGHAM, November 16th.

* * * I am pleased that the children are well under your roof. I
know they have all they can want. Bertie had such bad toothache
yesterday; Louis also a little; the cold air must be the cause, for
it is so sharp here.

Alix and I practice together for an hour of an evening. * * * Alix
drove me down to the sea the other day, and a most alarming drive
it was, for the horses pulled, and to our astonishment the coachman
suddenly alighted between us, with his feet in the air, from the
back seat, and caught hold of the reins--it was too funny. I hope
to be near you again on Saturday.

COBLENZ, November 25th.

* * * Having just a quarter of an hour to myself before leaving
this, I hasten to write to you a few lines to tell you that we have
travelled quite well so far. May will have told you about our
passage. I have been sick ever since, which is dreadful. Henry and
William joined us at Bonn, and came here with us.

The Queen was most kind. We spent the evening most pleasantly _en
famille_ with her, and whilst we dined alone together she had to go
to a town ball.

DARMSTADT, November 28th.

* * * I find my father-in-law looking better, I am happy to say,
though far from strong; and alas! one of his lungs is affected.
Though, with care, one can guard him from evil consequences, still
of course, it is an anxious thing. All the family are very grateful
for your kind messages, and send their respects to you.

* * * The children are very well, and Victoria said to my mother,
“Meine Grossmama, die Königinn, has got a little vatch with a
birdie,” and she is always speaking of all at Windsor, but
principally of the things in your room. I am so glad that you are
pleased with the children’s picture. I admire it so much.

It is warm and damp here. * * * I have a great deal to do. * * *

We have been over the new house yesterday, and alas! found many
things not quite what they were intended to be. * * *

DARMSTADT, December 5th.

Many thanks for your letter received yesterday, with the account of
Lenchen’s _Verlobung_ [betrothal]. I am so glad she is happy, and I
hope every blessing will rest on them both that one can possibly
desire.

I had a letter from Marie Brabant two days ago, where she says dear
Uncle’s [King Leopold’s] state is hopeless; but yesterday she
telegraphed that he was rather better. What a loss it would be if
he were to be taken from us, for his very name and existence,
though he takes no active part in politics, are of weight and
value.

Yesterday I was painting in oils, and I copied my sketch of the
Sluggan, and, if it be in any way at all presentable and fit to
give, I will send it to you. I hope it won’t be very Chinese, for
our sketches had a certain likeness to works of art of that
country. Louis is very busy here. He has begun his military duties;
he has the command and _Verwaltung_ [administration] of the Cavalry
Brigade. To-day he has to go to the Chamber, and he is going to
attend the different offices--home department, finances, justice,
etc.,--so as to get a knowledge of the routine of business. * * *
Louis of Portugal and family passed through here yesterday, and
went to Frankfort. I have inquired if they are there still, and if
they are we shall try to see them. I am so curious to see Marie
Pia. * * *

All our _Hofstaat_ [Court circle] lay their good wishes for
Lenchen’s engagement at your feet.

DARMSTADT, December 8th.

We are so grieved and distressed at dear Uncle Leopold’s alarming
state, and have given up all hope, the accounts are so bad. Oh,
were there but a chance for you, or for any of us who love him so
dearly, to be near him during his last hours!

December 11th.

Many thanks for your letter. Alas, alas! beloved Uncle Leopold is
no more! How much for you, for us, for all, goes with him to the
grave! One tie more of those dear old times is rent!

I do feel for you so much, for dear Uncle was indeed a father to
you. Now you are head of all the family--it seems incredible, and
that dear Papa should not be by your side.

The regret for dear Uncle Leopold is universal--he stood so high in
the eyes of all parties; his life was a history in itself--and now
that book is closed. Oh, it is so sad, and he is such a loss! I am
almost glad this sorrow has fallen into those days already so
hallowed by melancholy and precious recollections. How I recollect
every hour, every minute of those days. In thinking of them one
feels over again the hope, the anxiety, and lastly the despair and
grief of that irretrievable loss. The Almighty stood by you and us,
and enabled us to bear it, for I always wonder that we lived
through that awful time.

The future world seems so like a real home, for there are so many
dear ones to meet again. There is something peculiarly sad in the
death of the last one of a large family--to feel that none is left
to tell of each other, and of their earlier life, which the younger
ones could know only through their lips.

December 15th.

Many thanks for your letter. I was so anxious to hear something of
our beloved Uncle’s end; it seems to have been most peaceful.

There will be many Princes at Brussels, I believe.

How much I thought of you and of dear Papa on the 14th! Dear Louis
leaves me this afternoon. He will reach Brussels at five to-morrow
morning, and remain over the Sunday.

The accession of the new King and the honors that have at once to
be paid are so painful, following so closely on the death of one we
have loved and known in that position. As the French say: “_Le Roi
est mort. Vive le Roi!_”

December 20th.

* * * I was sitting up for Louis till half-past eleven with
Countess Blücher--who leaves to-day, and has spent a few days with
me--when he, and to my astonishment Bertie also, came into the
room. The next day, alas! he had to leave again at four; but still,
short as his stay was, it was a token of his constant love for me,
and it touched me very much, for I ever loved him so dearly.

Every thing went off well at Brussels as you will have heard. The
more I realize that we shall never see beloved Uncle Leopold again,
the sadder I grow. He had, apart from all his excellent qualities,
such a charm as I believe we shall seldom find again.

The dear Countess is well. We made the dining-room into a bedroom
for her, and we dined downstairs. I was so afraid of her getting
cold, if she lived out of the house.

DARMSTADT, December 24th.

* * * How I wish beloved Uncle were brought to Windsor to rest
there as he had wished! I wondered so much that every thing had
taken place at Laeken, knowing that dear Uncle had wished it
otherwise.

Uncle Louis wishes me to thank you once more for the Christmas
eatables, and my mother-in-law likewise for the lovely little frame
and photograph. They are both much touched by this kind attention
on your part.

Christmas Day.

* * * To me Christmas is always sad now, and for Louis and his
family it was so likewise this year; my parents-in-law felt it very
much. We went to the Military Church at eight this morning. It is
the service we like best; but it was bitterly cold, every thing
snow white.

I hope my little picture, though very imperfect, found favor in
your eyes. It gave me such pleasure doing it for you, thinking of
you and our expedition the whole time I was doing it.

December 30th.

This is my last letter this year. In many ways a happy one has it
been, though it has deprived us of many dear and near ones. Each
year brings us nearer to the _Wiedersehen_ [reunion with the dead],
though it is sad to think how one’s glass is running out, and how
little good goes with it compared to the numberless blessings we
receive. Time goes incredibly fast.

Every earnest and tender wish from us both is yours, dear Mama, for
this coming year with its expected events. May God’s blessing rest
on this new union which is to be formed in our family, and may dear
Lenchen be as happy as all those who loved her can wish! I am sorry
to think that I shall probably not see her again until she is
married; but I am glad for her sake that the _Brautstand_ [the
betrothal period] is not to be long.

I send you a locket with Ella’s miniature, which I hope will please
you.

AT HOME AND AT WORK.

1866-1872.

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

1866.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

January 2d.

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

January 6th.

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

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

GOTHA, January 19th.

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

GOTHA, January 22d.

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

GOTHA, January 26th.

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

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

DARMSTADT, February 1st.

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

February 10th.

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

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

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

DARMSTADT, February 15th.

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

DARMSTADT, March 10th.

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

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

March 16th.

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

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

March 17th.

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

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

March 20th.

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

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

March 24th.

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

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

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

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

April 2d.

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

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

March 26th.

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

April 7th.

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

April 25th.

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

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

May 3d.

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

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

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

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

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

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

May 7th.

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

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

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

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

May 18th.

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

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

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

May 22d.

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

May 25th.

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

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

May 28th.

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

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

June 8th.