Chapter VIII: Part 8

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

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

GRAND HÔTEL, CANNES, November 5th.

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

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

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

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

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

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

CANNES, December 14th.

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

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

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

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

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

CANNES, December 20th.

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

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

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

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

HÔTEL DU JURA, DIJON, December 28th.

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

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

1870.

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

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

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

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

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

“She, however, asked me,” Strauss writes, “to come and see her, if
I was not afraid of infection. She said that the next few weeks
would be very solitary ones, and it would be of great value to her
if I felt disposed to put up with her as sole audience for my
lectures on Voltaire. To this I was only too willing to agree.”

The manuscript took the form of seven lectures, and the author was rewarded for his pains “by the keen interest and unwavering attention of his listener.”

After repeated revisions, the printing of the work on Voltaire began. Strauss gives his own account of this in the following extract:--

“When it first occurred to me to write something on Voltaire for
the Princess in the form of lectures, I naturally cherished the
hope that, when the little book was printed, I might obtain her
permission to dedicate it to her. As the work progressed, however,
this hope became fainter, and by the time the book was ready I had
entirely given it up.

“I could only take pleasure in my work, if I felt I had been
perfectly sincere; if, instead of condemning Voltaire, as is
usually the case, I stood up for him upon essential points--nay,
even went so far as to intimate that here and there he had seemed
to me not to have gone far enough.

“The Princess might naturally have scruples about allowing a book
of such a tendency to be dedicated to her, considering her position
and what was due to it; and to ask her to allow the book to be
dedicated to her seemed forbidden by that discretion which I was
bound to observe. The thought then struck me of writing with my own
hand into the copy of the book which I gave her the Dedication, in
the terms in which it now stands printed on the second page of the
volume. Meanwhile, on the one hand, the friendly intercourse with
the Princess continued, whilst on the other the printing of the
book advanced. One day in the most kind manner she told me how much
she felt she owed to our acquaintance, and how much it had helped
to clear her views in many ways. I, on my part, expressed to her in
all sincerity the animating and exhilarating influence which our
intercourse had exercised upon myself, and, in particular, how it
had cheered and encouraged me in my labors on Voltaire.

“‘It would be nice, if you would dedicate your book to me,’ the
Princess rejoined. How agreeably surprised I was can easily be
imagined. I acknowledged without hesitation how this had been my
first intention, but that I had given it up out of regard for her,
not wishing to expose her to misinterpretation. The Princess
replied that the fear of being misunderstood would never prevent
her from doing what she thought right. I pointed out, that the
matter must be well and carefully considered, and that, first and
foremost, she must obtain her husband’s consent. Her answer was
that she had no fear on that point; but that she would of course
consult him about it. I told the Princess that I had made several
changes and additions since I first wrote the lectures. I would
therefore bring her the proof-sheets as soon as they were ready,
partly that she might glance over the whole again, and partly that
she might draw the Prince’s attention to any doubtful passages.
They would then be able to form their own opinions.

“I sent her the proof-sheets, and received them back from the
Princess on the 11th of June, 1870, with the following letter:

“‘DEAR HERR PROFESSOR:--I return you your “Voltaire” with many
thanks. My husband read through the fifth chapter of it yesterday;
he does not think that its contents are such as to justify my
refusing the dedication. The value which I place on the dedication
of your book will always be far greater than any little
unpleasantness which might possibly arise from my accepting it.

ALICE.’

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

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

ALICE.’

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

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

“‘ALICE.’

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

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

Strauss says, further, in his “Memoirs”:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

January 8th.

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

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

January 16th.

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

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

January 20th.

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

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

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

January 23d.

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

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

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

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

January 31st.

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

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

MAYENCE, April 10th.

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

MAYENCE, April 15th.

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

April 25th.

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

June 25th.

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

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

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

July 2d.

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

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

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

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

July 26th.

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

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

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

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

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

July 28th.

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

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

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

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

August 5th.

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

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

August 15th.

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

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

August 19th.

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

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

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

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

August 20th.

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

KRANICHSTEIN, August 25th.

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

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

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

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

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

August 26th.

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

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

KRANICHSTEIN, September 2d.

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

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

September 15th.

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

September 20th.

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

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

September 22d.

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

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

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

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

October 1st.

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

October 3d.

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

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

November 12th.

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

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

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

November 17th.

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

BERLIN, December 5th.

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

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

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

DARMSTADT, December 18th.