AT HOME AND AT WORK. 1866-1872. (continued 3)

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

Hôtel du Jura, Dijon, December 28th.

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

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

1870.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Alice.’

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

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

Alice.’

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

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

“‘Alice.’

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

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

Strauss says, further, in his “Memoirs”:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

January 8th.

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

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

January 16th.

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

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

January 20th.

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

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

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

January 23d.

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

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

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

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

January 31st.

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

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

Mayence, April 10th.

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

Mayence, April 15th.

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

April 25th.

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

June 25th.

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

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

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

July 2d.

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

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

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

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

July 26th.

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

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

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

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

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

July 28th.

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

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

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

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

August 5th.

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

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

August 15th.

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

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

August 19th.

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

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

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

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

August 20th.

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

Kranichstein, August 25th.

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

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

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

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

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

August 26th.

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

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

Kranichstein, September 2d.

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

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

September 15th.

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

September 20th.

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

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

September 22d.

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

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

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

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

October 1st.

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

October 3d.

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

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

November 12th.

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

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

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

November 17th.

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

Berlin, December 5th.

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

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

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

Darmstadt, December 18th.

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

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

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

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

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

Darmstadt, December 19th.

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

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

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

December 23d.

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

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

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

Darmstadt, December 27th.

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

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

1871.

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

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

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

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

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

Darmstadt, January 7th.

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

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

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

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

Darmstadt, January 14th.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Darmstadt, January 16th.

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

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

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

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

January 30th.

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

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

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

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

Darmstadt, February 2d.

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

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

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

February 11th.

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

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

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

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

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

Darmstadt, February 14th.

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

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

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

March 6th.

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

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

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

March 13th.

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

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

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

Darmstadt, April 8th.

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

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

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

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

Darmstadt, April 13th.

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

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

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

May 27th.

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

Darmstadt, June 8th.

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

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

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

Seeheim, June 14th.

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

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

Darmstadt, June 20th.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Darmstadt, June 27th.

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

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

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

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

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

August 13th.

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

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

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

Blankenberghe, August 17th.

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

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

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

Buckingham Palace, September 10th.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dunrobin Castle, Sutherland, October 19th.

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

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

Sandringham, November 9th.

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

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

1872.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Darmstadt, January 21st.

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

February 5th.

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

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

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

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

April 20th.

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

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

June 17th.

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

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

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

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

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

Darmstadt, June 24th.

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

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

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

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

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

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

August 14th.

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

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

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

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

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