AT HOME AND AT WORK. 1866-1872.

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

1866.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

January 2d.

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

January 6th.

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

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

Gotha, January 19th.

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

Gotha, January 22d.

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

Gotha, January 26th.

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

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

Darmstadt, February 1st.

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

February 10th.

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

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

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

Darmstadt, February 15th.

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

Darmstadt, March 10th.

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

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

March 16th.

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

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

March 17th.

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

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

March 20th.

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

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

March 24th.

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

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

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

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

April 2d.

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

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

March 26th.

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

April 7th.

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

April 25th.

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

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

May 3d.

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

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

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

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

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

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

May 7th.

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

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

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

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

May 18th.

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

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

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

May 22d.

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

May 25th.

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

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

May 28th.

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

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

June 8th.

* * * How precious are your words of love and sympathy and the hope you still hold to, that war may somehow be averted! It does me good to hear it; and I know how much, and how lovingly, your thoughts dwell with dear Vicky and with me during this time of trial. * * *

June 13th.

* * * I fear if the Bund orders the mobilization, and goes against Prussia, our troops will be the first to go, and then Louis may get orders to be off any day. It is too dreadful! I live in such dread that he may have to go just before, or at the very moment of my confinement. * * *

I hope Scotland will do you good. Please God, when you return matters may be better. If Austria and Prussia would only fight out their quarrel together; but the latter has taken refuge with the Bund now, because she wanted it.

Darmstadt, June 15th.

* * * The serious illness of poor little Sigismund[63] in the midst of all these troubles is really dreadful for poor Vicky and Fritz, and they are so fond of that merry little child.

We have just received the news that the Prussians have crossed our frontier and established themselves at Giessen. The excitement here is dreadful and it is very difficult to keep people back from doing stupid things—wanting to attack, and so on, which with our force alone would be madness.

Louis—as always—remains quiet; but we live in a perpetual fever, alarms being sent, being gehetzt [stirred up] from Vienna, as they want the Bund to go with them at once. It is a dreadful time. I anticipate it will be the close of the existence of the little countries. God stand by us! Without the civil list Uncle Louis and the family are beggars, as all the private property belongs to the country.

It is so kind of dear Lady Ely to offer to come. I shall be very glad of it, for from one day to another I don’t know what Louis’ duties may be; and, when I am laid up, it is so pleasant to have some one who can write to you.

June 18th.

These lines I send by our children, whom you will so kindly take charge of—alas, that the times should be such as to make this necessary! In your dear hands they will be so safe; and if we can give you a little pleasure in sending them, it would be a real consolation in parting from them, which we both feel very much.

The state of excitement here is beyond description. Troops arriving, being billeted about—all will be concentrated from here to Frankfort. Two days ago the Bund telegraphed for Uncle Alexander to come, as the Prussians were advancing; we, of course, were all unprepared, and the confusion and fright were dreadful; but, thank God, they retreated again, when they got wind that troops were assembling.

June 24th.

* * * The state of affairs is awful; perpetual frights and false news arrive. The Prussians are coming from Wetzlar or Bingen; all the bustle and alarm for necessary defence; it is really dreadful. Louis’ chief has his staff at Frankfort. Louis’ cavalry brigade is there likewise, so he has his adjutant, etc., there, and does his work early in the morning at Frankfort, returning here in the afternoon, which has been kindly allowed on account of me. I remain here, of course, as near dear Louis as I can; and now that the children are gone, I have only myself to look after. * * * I have not the least fear, but my anxiety about Louis will be very great, as you can imagine. * * * Collections are already being made for the hospitals in the field, and the necessary things to be got for the soldiers. Illness and wounds will be dreadful in this heat. Coarse linen and rags are the things of which one can’t have enough, and I am working, collecting shirts, sheets, etc.; and now I come to ask, if you could send me some old linen for rags. In your numerous households it is collected twice a year, and sent to hospitals. Could I beg for some this time? It would be such a blessing for the poor Germans; and here they are not so rich, and that is a thing of which in every war there has been too little. Lint I have ordered from England by wish of the doctors; and bandages also they wished for. If you could, through Dr. Jenner, procure me some of these things, I should be so grateful. * * * Four dozen shirts we are making in the house. Every contribution of linen or of patterns of good cushions, or any good bed which in the English hospitals has been found useful, we should be delighted to have. * * * For the moment the people beg most for rags; our house being new, we have none. I am tolerably well, and cannot be too thankful for good nerves. Louis is very low at times, nervous at leaving me; and for him I keep up, though at times not without a struggle. May the Almighty watch over us, and not separate us, is my hourly prayer!

In your hands we feel the children so safe, though we miss them much. It is so kind of you to have taken them, and they are strong and healthy. * * *

June 25th.

Two words by Lady Ely’s courier. I am so glad she is here. She performed the journey in a day and night without difficulty; and Christa, who merely came from Cassel, took three days coming by road.

Alas! to-morrow Louis’ division moves on into the country to make room for other troops, and he must go. It will be too far for him to return—save with special permission for a few hours—so we shall have to part. My courage is beginning to fail me, but I bear up as best I can. God knows what a bitter trial it is! He is just in front, so the first exposed. William is to go in Uncle Alex.’s staff, and my poor mama-in-law is beginning to break down now. We try to cheer each other. The whole thing is so hard: against her countrymen—there where Louis has served. The whole thing is so contrecœur, and the Prussian soldiers dislike it as much as we do.

I am going to Frankfort with ever so many poor wives to take leave of their husbands, who march to-day.

The heat is awful. I have no time to think of myself, or I daresay I should have heat, etc., to complain of. Being still off and on with Louis, and having things to do, keeps me up; but when he is gone, and I have no man here to reassure me, it will be dreadful.

I must close. * * * Letters from home now are such a pleasure; do let any one write to me sometimes to give me news of you all. Your own child,

Alice.

Darmstadt, July 1st.

* * * The parting now was so hard! and he feels it so dreadfully. I can scarcely manage to write. The heat, besides, is overpowering. Our dear wedding-day four years ago! Four years of undisturbed, real, and increasing happiness. How I thank and bless the Almighty for them, and how fervently I pray that we may live over this most bitter trial!

* * * Whether Henry is engaged or not we don’t know, and can get no news of him. At any rate he is cut off from news of us and the rest of Germany; and, as our army is moving, and he is on the extreme wing, at any moment he may find himself opposite to his own brothers and countrymen. It is most painful, and has been to my poor father-in-law a great shock, as we all hoped he had got away. Please let my brothers know this. They will feel for this unheard-of position for three brothers to be in. * * *

Dear Lady Ely is a comfort and support to me, and it was quite a relief to Louis to leave her with me. We are both so grateful that she came. Christa is quite out of sorts about her country, and sees every thing black. Marie is low about her brother; and we are so in the middle of it all, that an English person who has no one concerned in it all is really a relief.

I am so glad that you are pleased with the little ones. You be sure, I know, not to let them get in the way of infection, if there is still any.

July 3d.

* * * Poor Vicky! She bears her trial [the death of her son, Prince Sigismund] bravely, and it is a heavy one indeed. This dreadful war is enough to break one’s heart. Those lives sacrificed for nothing—and what will be the end of it all? All our troops are gone now, too, and, what is so unpleasant, of course we here don’t know where they go to—where they are. Letters are fetched by the Feldpost, and as they are chiefly not near the railroads—at least not Louis—we cannot telegraph. At such a moment I know dear Louis fidgets dreadfully for news, and I not less. Since he has gone I have heard nothing.

At length letters from Henry have come. He never received until the 29th the telegram his parents begged the King to send him on the 18th, for the King said he did not know where he was—thought he was in Russia! He has been in all the engagements, wondering why, as was originally arranged, no order came for him to leave.

I am so very uncomfortable, and it wants courage and patience and hope, under such circumstances, to bear all. Of course, anxiety about beloved Louis is the chief thing, and longing for news. The Prussians are collecting a large army near Thüringen, in which direction ours are marching. Probably Uncle Ernest against ours! He might so well have remained quiet, and sent his troops to Mayence, as was settled.

For dear Lenchen’s wedding-day receive every warm and affectionate wish. May God’s blessing rest on their union! I am so glad you are pleased with the dear children. I have already found that likeness in Ella to Affie’s picture by Thorburn, but she is so like dear Louis.

July 6th.

* * * There seems a chance of an armistice. I trust it is so, and that peace will ensue. The enormous bloodshed on both sides this fortnight is too awful to think of. Poor Austria! it is hard for her. But as she is said to be ready to cede Venice, then, at least, the Italian war will be at an end.

Surely the neutral Powers will try and prevent Austria and Prussia beginning again; it is too horrid!

The rest of Germany now must knock under; but that is better than again shedding so much blood on the chance of getting the upper hand.

I have had some lines from dear Louis from the north of Hesse. He is well; how I do hope now that they won’t come to blows.

How kind of you to give the children frocks for the wedding! Will you kiss the dear little ones from me? I miss them very much.

[In a letter dated July 11, 1866, Prince Louis announces to the Queen the birth of a strong, healthy girl, with “dark eyes and brown hair.”]

Darmstadt, July 19th.

Beloved Mama:—What a time I have passed during these eight days since baby’s birth! Firstly, I have to thank the Almighty for having preserved my own sweet and adored husband, and for the blessing of having had him by me, so dear, so precious, during my confinement. After three days he had to go, and when he got near Aschaffenburg found fighting going on. We could hear the guns here. The Prussians shot from the roofs of the houses; they fought in the streets; it must have been horrid. Our troops retreated (as had always been intended) in perfect order. The wounded were brought in here the following day. The 13th and 14th they fought. Louis was there on the 14th; since then I have not seen him—God knows when I shall again.

The Prussians have taken Frankfort, and they are at home here. No communications allowed; get no papers or letters; may send none! An existence of monstrous anxiety and worry, which it is impossible for those to imagine who have not lived through it.

I had a letter from Louis from the Odenwald this morning, written yesterday. They expected to pass Amorbach to-day. They are trying to meet the Bavarians, who are never to be found.

I long for a letter from you. We have none at all. I have had none from you since baby’s birth. The people, who are such cowards and so silly, fly from here in all available droschkies.

How I pray some end may soon come to this horrid bloodshed! Ah! the misery around us you can’t imagine. Henry has never received his discharge, and has gone unscathed, in spite of being so exposed through all these battles.

I myself am very well, and I don’t give way, though the anxiety about Louis leaves me no peace.

Baby is well and very pretty. The time she came at prevented a thought of disappointment at her being a girl. Only gratitude to the Almighty filled our hearts, that I and the child were well, and that dear Louis and I were together at the time. The times are hard; it wants all a Christian’s courage and patience to carry one through them; but there is one Friend who in the time of need does not forsake one, and He is my comfort and support. God bless you, my own Mama, and pray for your child,

Alice.

Friday, July 27th, 9 o’clock P.M.

At this moment the messenger has arrived, to leave again at five to-morrow morning. A thousand thanks for your dear letter, the first I have received since baby’s birth!

To-night (since Sunday no news of Louis) at length I have heard that dear Louis is well. These last four days they have been fighting again. I had a few lines from him. These last two nights he slept in a field, and the country is so poor, that they had nothing but a little bread during two days to eat. Now the Prussians, having made peace with Austria, and having refused it to us, are advancing on our troops from three sides.

I can scarcely write; this anxiety is killing me, and my love has been so exposed! All are in admiration of his personal bravery and tender attention to the suffering and want of all around. He never thinks of himself, and shares all the dangers and privations with the others.

Louis says they long for peace. He disapproves the different Governments for not now giving way to Prussia, and begs me to use my influence with Uncle Louis to accept Prussian conditions to spare further bloodshed.

From all parts of the country the people beg me to do what I can.

The confusion here is awful, the want of money alarming; right and left one must help. As the Prussians pillaged here, I have many people’s things hidden in the house. Even whilst in bed I had to see gentlemen in my room, as there were things to be done and asked which had to come straight to me. Then our poor wounded—the wives and mothers begging I should inquire for their husbands and children. It is a state of affairs too dreadful to describe.

The new anxiety to-night of knowing a dreadful battle is expected, perhaps going on, in which dear Louis again must be! I can scarcely bear up any longer; I feel it is getting too much. God Almighty stand by us! My courage is beginning to sink. I see no light anywhere; and my own beloved husband still in danger, and we cannot hear, for the Prussians are between us and them. Any thing may have happened to him, and I can’t hear it or know it! I could not go to him were he wounded.

What I have suffered and do suffer no words can describe—the sleepless nights of anxiety, the long days without news—how I pray it may soon end, and dear darling Louis be spared me!

In these days I have so longed to hear from you. It would have been such a comfort, and I longed for it much.

If we live, and peace is restored, the country and every thing will be in such a mess, and both of us in such want of change, that we must go somewhere; but we shall then, I fear, be next to ruined. You can’t think what war in one’s own country—in a little one like this—is! The want is fearful. I must go to bed, as it is late. I am well, so is the little one; but I can’t sleep or eat well all along; and the worry of mind and much to do keep me weak.

Oh, that we were together again! Good-bye beloved Mama. These next days I fear will be dreadful. May the Almighty watch over dear Louis! You will pray for him, won’t you?

P.S.—The standard of Louis’ cavalry regiment, which they did not take with them, and which is usually kept at the Schloss, is in my room for safety.

Forgive the shocking writing, but I am so upset to-night, since my messenger of Tuesday returned with Louis’ letter.

Darmstadt, August 4th.

* * * The linen, etc., for the wounded has arrived, and been so useful; a thousand thanks for it! Matters here change from one day to another, and I hope Louis may soon be able to return with the troops. Uncle Louis I do hope and pray will then return, and I hope he will regain the favor which he had lost, for any change now would be dreadful.

My father-in-law is really in such a state since these events, and his nerves so shattered, that my mother-in-law trembles for him, and tries to keep him out of all. He is so angry, so heartbroken at the loss of Oberhessen, which is probable, that he wishes not to outlive it. My poor mama-in-law burst into tears this morning in my room, where this scene took place.

I have just returned from having been to inquire after the wounded at the different hospitals and houses, which are filling fast as they can be brought from Aschaffenburg, Laufach, etc. As soon as I am better, I will go to them myself; but the close and crowded wards turn one easily faint.

Becker saw Louis three days ago, and accompanied him to Munich for a day. I hear he is well, though for six nights he had slept out of doors, and the last three nights it had poured incessantly; and all that time—on account of ours not having a truce, and expecting to be attacked—they were, being such a mass together, without provisions, barely a morsel of bread. I am so distressed about poor Anton Hohenzollern and Obernitz; so many acquaintances and friends have fallen on both sides, it is dreadful!

The town is full of Prussians. I hope they will not remain too long, for they pay for nothing, and the poor inhabitants suffer so much. There is cholera in the Prussian army, and one soldier lies here ill of it. I hope it won’t spread.

August 13th.

* * * It is fearful. Those who have seen the misery war brings with it, near by—the sufferings, the horror—know well what a scourge it is. May the Almighty spare our poor Germany this new evil! I forgot to thank you in Louis’ name, as he had told me, for your letter, which he found here on his return. He is to-day still at Berlin, and we are so grateful for your having written to good Fritz. What he can do I know he will.

Uncle Louis is still at Munich, and I don’t think he will abdicate; besides, he is at this moment doing what his country wishes.

I received a letter from Julie Battenberg, saying what Uncle Alexander had written to her about Louis: “Le Prince Alexandre m’écrit qu’il a obtenu du Grand Duc la démission de Perglas” (who commanded the troops so badly), “et la nomination du Prince Louis en commandement de nos troupes; il me dit à cette occasion que votre Mari pendant cette triste campagne s’est fait aimer et apprécier de tout le monde qu’il s’est fait une excellente réputation, et qu’il sera reçu à bras ouverts par la troupe.” * * * It is a large command for one so young, and with so little experience—all the more so, as we don’t know how long peace may last. He is sent to Berlin, as the country all look to Louis to prevent new evil; and all this without poor Louis having any direct position of heir to be able to enforce his opinion. He has no easy life of it.

The horse you gave Louis he rode in the different engagements, and praised him very much. He stood the fire quite well, but not the bursting of the shells close by.

About the children, the 23d is quite soon enough for their departure.

We shall not call baby “Irène,” unless all seems really peaceful, and at this moment it does not look promising. I am very sad and dismayed at the whole lookout. My mother-in-law was so pleased with your letter, and thanks you warmly for it.

Nierstein, Gelbes Haus, August 17th.

This dear day makes me think so much of you, of home, and of those two dear ones whose memories are so precious, and who live on with us, and make me often think that we had parted only yesterday.

We are so pleased at your saying that you claim Louis as your son. He always considers himself in particular your child, and if any thing helps to stimulate him in doing his duty well, it is the sincere wish of being worthy to claim and deserve that title. Darling Papa would be proud of him, and pleased to see how earnestly he takes his duties, and how conscientiously and unselfishly he fulfils them, for he has had and still has many trials—things I can tell you of when we meet again.

Life is such a pilgrimage, and so uncertain is its duration that all minor troubles are forgotten and easily borne, when one thinks what one must live for.

Before leaving Darmstadt yesterday to come here, we went to see some of the wounded again. One poor man had died since I was last there: he had been so patient, and had suffered so much. Another had had an operation performed and was very low—he was crying like a child. I could scarcely comfort him, he held my hand and always moaned out “Es brennt so” [It burns so]. Such nice people most of those young men are—very young, and for that class so well educated. All who are well enough are reading.

I must praise the ventilation and cleanliness in the different hospitals; in these things they have made wonderful progress here.

We are here in Rheinhessen, as Louis has to take his command. This place, Nierstein, lies between Worms and Mayence, and all our troops are quartered about here. Louis’ staff is at Worms, where he himself is to-day, and was already last night.

He was more hopeful about the prospects for Oberhessen on his return from Berlin, and had been so kindly received by dear Vicky and Fritz.

When Louis wrote his farewell to his cavalry brigade (who are so sorry to lose him), as a remembrance that he and they had stood in the field together for their first campaign, he asked these two regiments, officers and men, to stand sponsors to baby, as she was born during that time, and they are delighted, but wish the child to have one of their names! We wait till the troops can come home to christen baby on that account. * * * I don’t think we shall be here very long. Whenever the Prussians leave Darmstadt we can return.

Nierstein, Gelbes Haus, August 21st.

* * * We are here still, and all our troops, and Louis has a great deal to do. To-morrow the armistice is over, and at present we have no news as to its prolongation or the settlement of peace; but it must be one or other. A little private war of Prussia against us would be absurd and impossible, so the troops remain quartered in the little villages about here. The country here is so rich and fertile, the villages so clean, with such good houses; but the people are blessed with children to an extraordinary extent! It is the most richly populated part of all Germany, and there are more people on the square mile than in England.

The change of air—though it is but two hours from Darmstadt—has done me good, and if later, through your great kindness, a little journey should be possible to us, it would be very beneficial to both of us.

This house is quite close to the Rhine, and this instant our pioneers have come by from Worms on their pontoon bridge singing a quartett, about twenty or thirty men. It looks so pretty, and they sing so beautifully. On their marches the soldiers always sing, and they have so many beautiful songs, such as: “Der gute Kamerad.” The Germans are such gemütklich [simple, kindly, sociable] people. The more one lives with them, the more one learns to appreciate them. It is a fine nation. God grant this war, which has produced so many heroes, and cost so many gallant lives, may not have been in vain, and that at length Germany may become a mighty, powerful Power! It will then be the first in the world, where the great ideas and thoughts come from, free from narrow-minded prejudice, and when once the Germans have attained political freedom, they will be lastingly happy and united.

But the present state of things is sad, though one should not despair of some good resulting from it.

My letter is quite confused. I beg a thousand pardons for it, but I have been interrupted so often.

Gelbes Haus, August 29th.

* * * The children arrived well and safe, and in such good looks. It was a great pleasure to see them again; and I tried to make Victoria tell me as much as possible of dear Grandma and uncles and aunts, and when she is not absent-minded she is very communicative. How much we thank you, darling Mama, for having kept them and been so good to them I can’t tell you. This change has been so good for them; for now there are both cholera and small-pox at Darmstadt, which is still full of Prussian soldiers. More have come, and our peace is not yet concluded. I hope it is no bad sign, and that the hopes of losing less will not disappear.

We were only in Darmstadt for the day when the children arrived, and we go there for a few hours to-morrow on business. Louis has a great deal to do, and all the military things are in his hands.

I am not feeling very well. The air here after a few days is relaxing, and I begin to feel more what a strain there has been on my nerves during this time. I have such a pain in my side again. Mountain air Weber wants me to have, and quiet, away from all bothers; but I fear that is impossible now, on account of Louis not being able to leave—and then financially.

I have some Heimweh [home-sickness] after dear England, Balmoral, and all at home, I own, though the joy of being near dear Louis again is so great! But life is meant for work, and not for pleasure, and I learn more and more to be grateful and content with that which the Almighty sends me, and to find the sunshine in spite of the clouds; for when one has one’s beloved, adored husband by one’s side, what is there in the world that is too heavy to bear? My own darling Mama, when I think of darling Papa and of you, and that he is not visible at your side now, I long to clasp you to my heart, in some way to cheer the loneliness which is a poor widow’s lot. Oh, none in the world is harder than that!

Darmstadt, August 31st.

* * * Thank you for telling me how you spent that dear day; it must have been peaceful and solemn, the beautiful country harmonizing well with the thoughts of that great and beautiful soul which ever lives on with us. He remains nearer and nearer to me, and the recollection of many things dear Papa told me is a help and a stay in my actions, particularly of late. The separation seems so short. I can see him and hear him speak so plainly. Alas! my children have never seen him. Through you, darling Mama, and in your rooms, and at your side, they must learn to know him, that they may become worthy of their descent.

Yesterday we saw the children. Victoria is not quite well, but Ella is well, and won’t leave me when I come into the room; she keeps kissing me and putting her fat arms round my neck. There is each time a scene when I go away. She is so affectionate: so is dear Victoria. I send you a photograph of our smallest, who is such a pretty child, and very good.

The peace is not concluded yet; more Prussians have been quartered in and around Darmstadt. The people are very angry at this lasting so long * * * They believe it is Strafeinquartierung [done to punish us]. Nothing is settled as to what we keep or lose, and we know and hear nothing. Waiting here, uncomfortably lodged, the troops impatient to go home, as they have nothing to do, gets very irksome.

Gelbes Haus, September 8th.

* * * At last the peace is concluded, though not yet ratified. The terms are not so bad. We lose the Hinterland and the Domains there, as also the whole of Hesse-Homburg—in all sixty-four thousand souls—pay three millions contribution, besides having kept a large part of the Prussian army six weeks for nothing, which cost the country twenty-five thousand florins daily. For Oberhessen we go into the North-German Bund, and half the army is under Prussian command, which will make a dreadful confusion. Louis would prefer having it for the whole, particularly in anticipation, alas! of a coming war.

The railroads, posts, and telegraphs also become Prussian; and they demand, besides, some fine old pictures, books, and manuscripts, which had once belonged to the Kölner Dom, and were made a present of to this country years ago; and for our Domains no Entschädigung [compensation]. In exchange for Homburg we get some small places—amongst others, Rumpenheim.

When the peace is ratified and the money paid, the Prussians leave the country, which must now be very shortly. Until then Louis must stop here, and as he can only get leave now and then to go to Darmstadt, and that always uncertain, baby’s christening is still impossible, as Louis must be there. She will be called “Irène Louise Marie Anna.”

Gelbes Haus, September 11th.

* * * Tired of constantly putting off and waiting, we settled yesterday to have baby christened to-morrow, as it is Louis’ birthday, and to go for the day to Darmstadt. Though the Prussians are still there, some of the godfathers are coming over; otherwise it will be quite quiet.

* * * How true and sad is what you say, dear Mama, about life and its trials! Alas! that it should be you, dear, loving, kind Mama, who have had to drink so deeply of that cup of bitterness. Those who possess all they love, as I do, can, however, feel all the more keenly, and sympathize more truly with you for what you have lost, though it is a grief we do not know. How I do long always to alleviate this grief for you, dearest Mama; but that is the world’s trial. None can bear the burden for you. One must carry it one’s self; and it wants patience and courage to bear such as yours, dear Mama. I feel for you now more than ever since during that month I feared from day to day my happy life might be brought to a violent close, and anticipated all the misery that might come, but which the Almighty graciously averted.

Darmstadt, September 16th.

* * * That you sent Louis, besides the pretty souvenir, the money for something in the house is really so kind. Our whole dining-room we consider your present, and it is furnished as like an English one as possible.

The name Irene,[64] through other associations, is one my parents-in-law and we like; it stands, besides, as a sort of recollection of the peace so longed for, and which I so gladly welcomed. It will always reminds us of the time, and of how much we have to be grateful for.

Darmstadt, September 24th.

* * * We are settled here again; our troops have returned and Uncle Louis likewise. The former were received most warmly by the inhabitants and showered with nosegays—Louis also, who rode at their head. We saw them all in front of the Schloss, and it was sad to see the thinned ranks and to miss the absent faces we knew so well. On the 13th and 14th of July, at Frohnhofen, Laufach, and Aschaffenburg, out of 8,000 we lost 800 men and 11 officers, and of the officers just those who were very intimate with the Prussians, and who wished Germany to be united under Prussia.

This afternoon we are going to see after the poor wounded, some of whom are still very ill with such horrible wounds. So much suffering and pain and grief to those poor people, who are innocent in this unhappy war!

If only now the other sovereigns will forget their antipathies and the wrongs they have suffered from Prussia, and think of the real welfare of their people and the universal fatherland, and make those sacrifices which will be necessary to prevent the recurrence of these misfortunes!

The poor Homburgers marched by with our troops, and their tears and ours fell as we saw them (who had fought so bravely under Uncle Louis) for the last time before they become Prussians, and return to their homes as such.

My parents-in-law are gone to Switzerland. Henry is become Colonel of the 2d Guard of Uhlans at Berlin.

October 1st.

* * * I can but write a few lines, as we are going with the children to Uncle Alexander to Jugenheim for a few days. The change of air is wanted for Ella, who is still pale; and Irene has never had any change yet, and is also rather pale.

We were at Frohnhofen and Laufach a few days ago to see where the unfortunate engagement was, and visited the graves of our soldiers. In the middle of a field there is a mound, below which some eighty men and some officers lie, and so on. It makes a very sad impression, for as our troops retreated, and they were buried by the people, none know which of the common soldiers or even which of the officers lie in the different places. We found some balls, and things the soldiers had thrown off during the fight. In one grave in the churchyard, the wounded who died afterward are buried. I asked who lay there, and the gravedigger answered “Ein Preuss’ und ein Hess’ liegen dort beisammen” [“A Prussian and a Hessian lie there together”], united in death, and fallen by each other’s hand, perhaps. Some of the officers who accompanied us, and had not been there since the engagement, were much overcome on seeing the graves of their comrades. I put wreaths and flowers on them, and ordered crosses where we knew who lay there.

The wounded here are recovering, and I go often to see after them.

As you say, this large Prussia is by no means an united Germany; but, nevertheless, I think the duty of the other German sovereigns, in spite of all, is to unite with Prussia and place themselves under her, so as to make her unite with Germany. Otherwise, the next opportunity, they will be annexed.

Heiligenburg, Jugenheim, October 7th.

* * * We return to town to-day, leaving the children for another week, as the air on the hill is so delicious. Louis has so much to do that he can’t remain away longer, though he went at half-past seven every morning to his office, returning for luncheon.

Darmstadt, October 22d.

On Thursday we are going to Waldleiningen for a fortnight and take Victoria with us. The two little girls knew your photograph at once, and began, of course, to talk of you and of England.

Waldleiningen, October 31st.

* * * It is quite beautiful here. We found dear Ernest, Marie and children well; the former so kind and dear, as they always are. Victoria and Alberta get on tolerably together. The little boy is splendid, so strong and fat.

The Castle is so fine and lies just in the midst of mountains and woods, and there are walks without end—many of them reminding me so much of Scotland.

The Nichels came to see us, and Marie and I played with Nichel[65]; it reminded me so much of the good old times to see him.

Ella’s birthday is to be kept when we return. She is too small to know the difference of the day. I thank you beforehand for the locket for her with dear Papa’s picture. The children always speak of their two Grandpapas—dear Grandpapa in Heaven, and dear Grandpapa in Darmstadt. Victoria, hearing Papa so often mentioned, and seeing his pictures about everywhere, asks no end of questions about him.

Darmstadt, November 14th.

I am better, thank you, but I am so weak without the least reason, and dreadfully chilly. Still, I go out regularly in all weathers and take exercise, but of an evening I am quite knocked up.

We always breakfast at half past eight, as Louis gets up early and prefers it; so that I lead a very healthy life, and in spite of that am not well. A change quite into another climate, for a few months was what I really required; but it was impossible. On that account, dear Mama, I shall hope to have a full three months in England when we come, and perhaps part of the time with Bertie, if he can have us. I went through a great deal this summer during my confinement. The excitement and the will to keep well kept me so at the time, but I feel it now, alas! and show it, too, for I am getting so thin again.

Darmstadt, November 21st.

Dear Vicky’s birthday. She will think how happily she passed it at Windsor last year, and, though she has another child, it cannot replace to her what the other one was.

How glad I am to hear you praise dear Alix! She is so good, tactvoll [full of tact] and true. I love her very much.

I had the pleasure of seeing dear Countess Blücher for a few hours here last Sunday. She came during a dreadful snowstorm. The young King of Bavaria is coming here for the day to-morrow. * * *

The large pictures from Homburg—George III., Queen Charlotte, George IV., William IV., and the Duke of York en pied—Uncle Louis has given us, and now that I have given these good people, whom I don’t like, the best places in our rooms, I should so much like you and dear Papa, which you promised me some years ago from the last Winterhalters, or from those in the garter dress.

I look forward so much to seeing dear Bertie here, if only for a few hours. I suppose Monday or Sunday, if he travels day and night, as he leaves on Friday; it is a very long and cold journey.

November 22d.

A thousand thanks for the precious book,[66] and for your dear lines. The former I have nearly finished. I got it yesterday morning, and you can well imagine that every spare moment was devoted to its study.

I think it very well done, and I am only sorry that General Grey cannot continue it, as the other persons, I believe, did not know dear Papa. The longer I live, the more I see and know of the world, the deeper my tender admiration grows for such a father. It makes me feel myself so small, so imperfect, when I think that I am his child, and am still so unworthy of being it. How many people here who like to hear of dear Papa, ask me about him, and you can understand with what pride and love I talk of him, and tell them things which make them all share our sorrow at not having him here any more! But if ever a life has outlived a man, dear Papa’s has done so. In my thoughts and aims he ever remains the centre and the guiding star. Dear beloved Papa, he never half knew, how much, even when a foolish child, I loved and adored him. His great life will be a model for many and many for generations to come, and his great thoughts and aims can leave none idle who knew them.

You kindly ask how I am. Better, thank you, since I have begun some bark—quinine I can’t take, or else I should have been well sooner.

Victoria I am teaching to read—in playing with cards with different letters on them.

November 30th.

To-day it is six whole years since we were engaged to each other in the Red Drawing-room at Windsor, when we in dear Papa’s little room afterward received your and dear Papa’s sanction to it. And the following year—how sad that already was, for darling Papa was beginning to be unwell. How constantly do I think of you, beloved Mama, during that fortnight of anxiety and sorrow! God mercifully spare you to us, though for yourself it was the commencement of the sad and lonely existence you lead without dear Papa.

I am sure it is good for little Henry[67] to be this winter with you in England: the Berlin climate is very unwholesome. Health is such a blessing. If one has children, the first wish is they should be healthy, for ill health influences all, and nothing more than temper.

We intend, if possible, going for a day or two to Carlsruhe. Poor Louise and Fritz went through so much that is painful this summer. * * *

I read an immense deal now of serious, and what some call dry, books; but it is a great resource to me, and the thought of standing still, if one does not study, urges me on. The long winter evenings we always spend together, and twice in the week receive in the evening, when I play on the piano duets with such as play on the violin, and pass the evenings very pleasantly.

Carlsruhe, December 6th.

Thousand thanks for your dear letter! I congratulate you on all having gone off so well at Wolverhampton,[68] and am very grateful for the account. Dear Bertie’s visit is over, and it has been a very great pleasure to us to have seen him again, and to have him under our own roof—where we at length had an opportunity, in a small way, to return his hospitality and constant kindness to us. God bless him, dear brother! he is the one who has from my childhood been so dear to me.

We have come here, and I think it has pleased good Fritz. Louis seems very well. I saw Lady Fanny Baillie yesterday, looking dear and pretty as ever. It is a pleasure to look at her sweet face.

Carlsruhe, December 11th.

As every year during these days my thoughts are with you, and as each year brings round again the anniversary of that dreadful misfortune, it seems more and more impossible that five years should already have elapsed, since he whom we all loved so tenderly was taken from our sight. How I thank the Almighty again and again, as this season returns, that He spared you to us, when at such a moment, we trembled for your precious life, fearing that two so united in life even in death could not be parted. What should we poor children, what would the country have done, had that second misfortune come over us! Yet it seemed selfish and unkind to wish for your loving wife’s heart the solitary widow’s existence. How bravely and nobly you have borne it!

We leave this to-morrow morning, and have spent pleasant days here. There was much to talk about together, and Fritz is so excellent and so wise, that I am always glad to hear him. Dear Louise is well and in good looks, and most kind.

Now I must end beloved Mama. God bless you and comfort you, and in these days let sometimes the thought of your absent child, who was at your side during that dreadful time, mingle with the recollection of the past!

Darmstadt, December 14th.

Beloved, precious Mama:—On awaking this morning, my first thoughts were of you and of dear, darling Papa! Oh, how it reopens the wounds scarcely healed, when this day of pain and anguish returns! This season of the year the leafless trees, the cold light, every thing reminds me of that time!

Thousand thanks for your dear letter received yesterday. Well, only too well, do I remember every hour, almost every minute, of those days, and I have such an inexpressible longing to throw my arms round your neck, and to let my tears flow with yours, while kneeling at that beautiful grave.

The tender love and the deep sorrow caused by His loss remain ever with me, and will accompany me through life. At the age I then was, with its sensitive feelings, it made an impression which, I think, nothing can efface—above all, the witnessing your grief. Happily married as I am, and with such a good, excellent, and loving husband, how far more can I understand now the depth of that grief which tore your lives asunder! I played our dear Papa’s organ under his beloved picture this morning, and my heart and my thoughts were in dear England with you all.

We found our children well on our return, and Irène prospers perfectly on her donkey’s milk.

My mother-in-law is so much pleased with the book,[69] and it has interested her very much. She came to see me early this morning on account of its being the 14th. She is always so kind and full of attentions.

Darmstadt, December 17th.

How dear of you to have written to me on the 14th; thousand thanks for your letter! How much I thought of all on that day you can imagine; also what good it did me to know that you still thought of me so kindly with those recollections. I am so sorry to hear that you are so suffering. I hope Osborne will do you good, and that rest and quiet will refresh you.

Darmstadt, December 21st.

* * * I hope by this time that you are quite recovered, though this mild damp weather is not made to give one strength. I feel it so much also, and am really only kept alive by steel, for off and on I am so weak that I nearly faint if I have to stand any time, and this is so unpleasant.

* * * I am trying to found what is no small undertaking: a “Frauen-Verein” to be spread all over the land in different committees, the central one being here under my direction, for the purpose of assisting the International Convention for nursing and supporting the troops in time of war, which was founded at Geneva, and to which this country also belongs. The duty in time of peace will be to have nurses brought up and educated for the task, who can then assist in other hospitals or amongst the poor, or to nurse the rich, wherever they may be required in time of war. This committee of women has to collect all the necessary things for the wounded and for the marching troops, has to see to their being sent to right places, etc.

All these things were done by private people in this war, and, though quantities of things were sent, the whole plan was not organized, so that there was want and surplus at the same time.

In time of peace these things should be organized, so that, when war comes, people know where to send their things to, and that no volunteer nurses go out who have not first learnt their business.

The same thing exists in Baden, in Bavaria, and in Prussia, and here it is much wanted. But all these undertakings are difficult, particularly in the choice of persons to assist one. Still I hope I shall be able to do it. My mother-in-law helps me, and I hope before long to be able to begin.

The Elector is coming here on a visit to-day, and Uncle Alexander returned from Petersburg last night.

Darmstadt, December 25th.

* * * I have a dreadful cold, and am not very well besides, so I can but scribble a few lines. To-day we go to the Bescheerung [distribution of Christmas gifts] to the wounded in three hospitals. Of course it will be very hot.

Henry is here for a few days. He looks so handsome in his new uniform with his dark beard. He has grown so good-looking these last few years, and he is so excellent. I am very fond of him. He is likewise so much gayer than formerly.

The good eatables you sent will be given to-night, when Louis’ parents and brothers come to us for dinner.

The children have a party for their tree.

Darmstadt, December 30th.

* * * May the Almighty give you every blessing of peace and comfort which the world can still give you, till you gain that greater blessing and reward above all others, which is reserved for such as my own sweet mother! May every blessing fall on my old dear home, with all its dear ones! May peace, and the glory which peace and order bring with it, with its many blessings, protect my native land; and may, in the new year, your wise and glorious reign, so overshadowed by dear Papa’s spirit, continue to prosper and be a model and an ornament to the world!

This year of pain and anxiety, and yet for us so rich in blessings, draws to a close. It moves me more than ever as its last day approaches. For how much have we not to thank the Almighty—for my life, which is so unworthy compared to many others, the new life of this little one, and above all the preservation of my own dear husband, who is my all in this life.

The trials of this year must have brought some good with all the evil: good to the individual and good to the multitude. God grant that we may all profit by what we have learnt, and gain more and more that trust in God’s justice and love, which is our guide and support in trouble and in joy! Oh, more than ever have I felt in this year, that God’s goodness and love are indeed beyond comprehension!

* * * I am really glad to hear that you can listen to a little music. Music is such a heavenly thing, and dear Papa loved it so much, that I can’t but think that now it must be soothing, and bring you near to him. * * *

1867.

The experiences of the late war had shown the necessity for an efficient and widespread organization for aid to the sick and wounded on the battlefield. Already in 1865 a society had been formed in Hesse, with Prince and Princess Charles as its patrons, in accordance with the resolutions passed at the Geneva Convention in 1863, and had done good work in the last war. The nursing of the wounded had hitherto been undertaken by “Deaconesses,” Sisters of Mercy, and orders of a kindred nature.

After the close of the war, those at the head of the committee (or Society) made themselves responsible, so far as lay in their power, for the wounded and disabled, and for the families of those who had fallen in the war. It was, however, felt to be very desirable that other committees should be formed throughout the country for the purpose of training specially-qualified nurses.

The Princess was deeply interested in this question—indeed, her whole attention had been directed to it since the beginning of the war, after she had seen what was done in Baden under the direction of the Grand Duchess. She had also before her the example of Florence Nightingale, and the good she had done during and after the Crimean war. The Princess was naturally fond of nursing, and of all that had to do with it, and she therefore eagerly took up the idea of founding a Frauen-Verein, or “Ladies’ Union”—an idea which, under her auspices, was soon most successfully carried out.

She wished lay women and ladies of all classes to join in this undertaking, so that the nursing should not be confined, as heretofore, to religious orders only. After much consultation a committee was formed in 1867, consisting of six ladies and four doctors, with the Princess as President. The central committee of the “Ladies’ Union” was to be at Darmstadt, under the Princess’ direction. The other committees spread over the whole country. Its object was to assist “the nursing and supporting of the troops in times of war,” and in times of peace to “train nurses, to assist other hospitals, or amongst the poor, or to nurse the rich”—in fact, to help wherever help was required. In 1868 the members belonging to the “Ladies’ Union” had greatly increased, and in 1869 they reached the number of 2,500.

The duties of the local committees consisted in collecting money and all necessary materials for the wounded or for the troops on the march. The central committee did its best in times of peace to direct the general attention to this most important question by lectures on the subject, delivered by medical men.

At the time the Princess started this undertaking she was also much occupied with another all-engrossing subject—viz.: the improvement of the condition of poor unmarried women and girls, as well as the education of girls in general. The Princess found an able assistant in Fräulein Louise Büchner—a most distinguished authoress, and the champion of women’s rights, more particularly of the higher education of women.

With her help the Princess formed another committee for the encouragement of “Female Industry.” A permanent Bazaar was established on the 25th of November, 1867, called after the Princess, “The Alice Bazaar,” for the purpose of receiving and disposing of articles of needlework at their proper value, and also for obtaining employment for women of all classes. The “Bazaar” soon became a flourishing institution.

At the beginning of the year 1867 the Prince and Princess went to Gotha, where they met the Crown Prince and Princess of Prussia for the first time since the war. They then went for a few weeks to Berlin. After the threatening rumors of war caused by the Luxembourg question had been dispersed, the Emperor Napoleon invited all the Sovereigns and Princes of Europe to visit the great International Exhibition at Paris. Prince and Princess Louis, amongst others, accepted the invitation, and were at Paris at the same time as the Emperor of Russia, the King of Prussia, and the Crown Prince and Princess of Prussia. The Prince and Princess visited many other places of interest and note at Paris besides the great Exhibition. All institutions for art had a great attraction for her, and she took up the idea most warmly of founding Schools of Design in her own country, as she hoped they would exercise a good influence there.

During the Prince and Princess’ visit the great review of the Imperial troops in the Bois de Boulogne took place; and on that day, too, the happily unsuccessful attempt on the Emperor of Russia’s life was made.

After attending all the festivities at the Imperial Court, where the Prince and Princess received every possible attention and kindness from the Emperor and Empress, they left Paris on the 10th of June, and, having met their children at Calais, crossed over to England. During this stay in England the Princess visited the German and many other Hospitals, and she also assisted in doing the honors for the Queen at several Court festivities. She was present at Windsor and Osborne during the visits of the Sultan, who had been so cordially received in England, and in whose honor a great naval review at Spithead was held.

Prince and Princess Louis returned to Darmstadt in the first days of August; and, having established their children there, they left for St. Moritz in the Engadine, where they intended to spend a month, and where the Princess was to take the baths.

Whilst there they made several excursions, travelling about quite simply, like any other tourists.

On their return to Germany, the Prince and Princess spent a few days with the Grand Duke and Grand Duchess of Baden on the island of Mainau on the Lake of Constance. During the autumn the Princess met several of her own brothers and sisters. She also went to Cassel to meet the Crown Prince and Princess of Prussia, who were returning from a visit to England.

Gotha, January 15th.

* * * It is a great happiness to be with dear Vicky and Fritz, and the future—that which is to be feared, that which must inevitably come—is of course our constant talk. Whatever comes, our position, and that of other small sovereigns, must undergo a change, which for the older ones will be very hard, and which they will ever feel. Even dear Louis, who is so sensible and reasonable, says he has been brought up with particular rights, which for centuries have been ours, and he feels sore that he is never to inherit them.

Dear aunt seems very well, and is ever like a second mother to us, so loving and kind; also dear uncle. Papa’s and your children are dear to him almost as though they were his own; and he lives to see us with our families and in our homes, whereas darling Papa does not. Yesterday the Braut von Messina was given—that beautiful piece which Papa was so fond of. I thought so much of you.

On Thursday Vicky and Fritz go to Berlin. We remain here until Sunday afternoon, as on Sunday is the Ordensfest; and as many will be decorated who fought against us, Louis thought it better to arrive after the ceremony. Hermann is here still. He has been to see Feo,[70] who has been very ill. Fritz William [the Crown Prince] saw Ada and Fritz Holstein at Carlsruhe, and Fritz and Anna of Hesse—all four turned out of their countries. * * *

I am delighted to hear of dear Arthur having passed so good an examination. How proud you must be of him! And the good Major,[71] who has spared no pains, I know—how pleased he must be! Arthur has a uniform now, I suppose.

Berlin, January 26th.

* * * We remain here a little longer, probably until the following Saturday, as the King, owing to his cold, could not see us often, and begged us to remain longer.

I saw Amalie Lauchert[72] here two days ago, looking so well, and charming as ever.

Little Vicky is such a darling, very like her poor little brother—so merry, so good, one never hears her cry—and it is really a comfort to Vicky to have that dear little thing. Poor Vicky is very sad and low at times.

After intense cold it is quite warm, like spring, which is very unwholesome and tiring.

Darmstadt, February 16th.

* * * I think I can understand what you must feel. I know well what those first three years were—what fearful suffering, tearing and uprooting those feelings which had been centred in beloved Papa’s existence! It is indeed, as you say “in mercy,” that after the long storm a lull and calm ensues, though the violent pain, which is but the reverse side of the violent love, seems only to die out with it, and that is likewise bitter. Yet, beloved Mama, could it be otherwise? There would be no justice or mercy, were the first stage of sorrow to be the perpetual one; and God grant, that time may still soothe and alleviate that which it cannot change! I can only imagine what the loss must be, if I measure it by the possession of that one adored being, who is the centre and essence of my existence.

Darmstadt, February 28th.

* * * Yesterday we had a very interesting lecture in our house about Art in Venice, by a young Swede [Herr von Molin], who has been studying three years in Italy. We had the room full of people, artists, and professors, who liked to listen.

* * * All the natural cleverness and sharpness in the world won’t serve nowadays, unless one has learnt something. I feel this so much; and just in our position it is more and more required and expected, particularly in a small place, where so much depends on the personal knowledge and exertions of the Princes.

Darmstadt, March 8th.

* * * The knowledge of dear sweet Alix’s state makes me too sad. It is hard for them both, and the nursing must be very fatiguing for Mrs. Clarke. I am so distressed about darling Alix that I really have no peace. It may, and probably will, last long, which is so dreadful.[73]

March 28th.

* * * We mean to have some children on the 5th, so that Victoria can have a party.

My father-in-law is better again, I am happy to say. The warm weather did him good at once.

Darmstadt, April 1st.

* * * I could not write the other day, as I had a good deal to do with two committees for charities, which had to be got into order, and which took up a great deal of my time.

Cold, hail, snow, and rain, have returned; and Irène has got a cold, which most people here have. The weather is so unpleasant.

We shall stop here in town until we go to England, as we have nowhere to go to before. It is a pity for the children to have no country air, and they miss the flowers in their walks. I can’t praise Orchard[74] enough. Such order she keeps, and is so industrious and tidy, besides understanding so much about the management of the children’s health and characters.

Darmstadt, April 5th.

Thousand thanks for your dear letter, and for the kind wishes for Victoria’s birthday! I pray she may be a worthy granddaughter and goddaughter of my darling Mamma! I shall never forget that day—your kindness to us, and the tender nurse you were. * * *

Victoria means to dictate a letter to you; she is so much pleased with her presents. Irène has not a tooth yet, and is not very fat, poor little thing! but she is fresh and rosy, and, I think, strong.

This last week the excitement here has been dreadful, as all anticipated a war with France on account of Luxembourg. I fear sooner or later it will come. May the Almighty avert such a calamity!

The Moriers were quite in ecstasies about your handsome present. The christening[75] went off very well.

April 8th.

* * * We have just returned from church, and to-morrow morning we all take the Sacrament at nine o’clock in the Schlosskirche. Professor Jowett is here on a visit to the Moriers, and is going to read the service on Sunday. I have not had an opportunity to attend our English service since we were at Windsor, excepting one Sunday at Berlin with Vicky and Fritz.

People think now, the evil of war is put off for a few weeks, but that is all. Henry is here for Easter, and says the same from all he heard at Berlin.

April 21st.

* * * How I wish you may be right in not believing in war. I always fear it is not Luxembourg, but the intense jealousy of the French nation, that they should not be the first on the Continent, and that Germany is becoming independent and powerful against their will. Then, again, the Germans feel their new position, and assert their rights with more force because unanimous, and neither nation will choose to give in to the other.

The war would be totally useless, and sow no end of dissension and hatred between the two neighbor countries, who, for their own good as for that of mankind, ought to live in peace and harmony with each other.

We seem drifting back to the Middle Ages, as each question is pushed to the point of the sword. It is most sad. How dear Papa would have disapproved of much that has happened since 1862!

Is the Catalogue which Mr. Ruland sent some time ago to Mr. Woodward for dear Papa’s Raphael Collection in print now?[76] So many people know of its coming out, and are anxious to see it, as, indeed, I am likewise, for it is the only complete collection in the world, and the world of art is anxious to know all about it. Will you, perhaps, let me know through Mr. Sahl,[77] as I believe it is already a good while since you approved of its being published, and gave the orders for its being printed?

May 2d.

As yet none dare to be sure of the peace, but all live again since there are more chances for its being maintained. But, then, I trust it will be a permanent peace, not merely a putting off till next year!

The French press was so very warlike, and it always talks of the French honor not being able to allow such a mighty empire as the German is becoming to gain the upper hand; and then rectification of her frontiers, always wishing for the Rhine.

Poor little Anna of Mecklenburg is here; it seemed so sad to see the dear little child come alone to inhabit the rooms its Mama had never returned to. She looks delicate, very fair, but with dark, thick eyebrows and eyelashes; rather shy and silent for she has no little children to play with in her home. My two led her about at once, and tried to amuse her. Ella, who is five months older, is a head taller and twice as broad. I am so afraid they will be too rough with her, for dear, fat Ella is very strong, and by no means gentle.

Annchen has an old nervous nurse, who is too frightened about her. It is a great responsibility, where there is no mother. It looks so sad!

May 13th.

I must tell you something in confidence of what has taken place here with regard to Louis. * * * Since Louis took the command last August, and since the Convention with Prussia has been settled, Louis has been opposed by Uncle Louis and the Kriegsministerium [War Department], in doing all the things which he thought absolutely necessary, and which toward Prussia the Grand Duke had promised to do, so as to get the troops into the necessary order and organization. Here the Government is, Louis has reason to fear, once more playing a false game toward Prussia, and all his true friends and a small party of the clever-thinking people have encouraged him in the idea that to serve his country, he may and must not be implicated in the present sad and desperate state of affairs.

It has cost him a great struggle to make up his mind to ask Uncle Louis to accept his resignation, which he has been obliged to demand, as he felt that under present circumstances he could not fulfil what was desired of him.

Uncle Louis may refuse to let him go; then he intends to ask for leave until the 1st of October, the date when the Convention must be carried out, when he hopes and trusts the King will send a Prussian general to put all in order.