IN HER NEW HOME. 1862-1865. (continued 2)

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

January 1st.

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

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

January 2d.

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

January 14th.

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

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

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

January 20th.

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

January 23d.

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

Berlin, January 29th.

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

Berlin, February 1st.

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

Berlin, February 4th.

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

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

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

Berlin, February 7th.

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

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

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

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

Berlin, February 11th.

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

Berlin, February 14th.

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

Berlin, February 17th.

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

Darmstadt, February 21st.

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

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

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

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

February 27th.

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

March 4th.

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

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

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

Darmstadt, March 6th.

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

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

Darmstadt, March 11th.

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

Victoria is teething, which makes her pale and poorly. Ella’s vaccination did not take, and we have the small-pox here.

March 18th.

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

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

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

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

April 1st.

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

April 4th.

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

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

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

April 8th.

* * * We shall be delighted to receive you in Kranichstein, and if you will send your suite all to Darmstadt we shall be able to arrange, though we have not one spare room anywhere, and I feel you will be rather squeezed. How I look forward to meeting you again, after a year of separation, I can’t say; and I am so glad that it will be under our roof that our joyful embrace will take place. As Uncle Louis is to have the Garter, may not Affie bring it to him without ceremony? He would like it so much better if it can be so.

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

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

April 15th.

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

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

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

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

April 18th.

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

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

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

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

April 21st.

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

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

April 24th.

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

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

April 25th.

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

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

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

April 29th.

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

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

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

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

May 2d.

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

May 6th.

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

May 8th.

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

Seeheim, May 12th.

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

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

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

Seeheim, May 15th.

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

May 20th.

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

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

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

Seeheim, May 21st.

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

May 31st.

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

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

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

June 4th.

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

June 7th.

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

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

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

Seeheim, June 15th.

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

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

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

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

June 19th.

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

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

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

June 21st.

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

Kranichstein, July 2d.

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

Kranichstein, July 10th.

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

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

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

Kranichstein, July 17th.

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

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

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

July 24th.

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

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

Rigi Kaltbad, August 1st.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Engelberg, Hotel Titlis, August 8th.

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

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

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

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

Pension Belle Vue, Tracht bei Brienz, August 14th.

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

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

The white heather is from above Engelberg, near Brienz.

Pension Belle Vue, August 15th.

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

Kranichstein, August 21st.

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

September 1st.

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

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

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

Kranichstein, September 8th.

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

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

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

Inverness, October 8th.

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

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

Sandringham, November 16th.

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

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

Coblenz, November 25th.

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

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

Darmstadt, November 28th.

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

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

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

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

Darmstadt, December 5th.

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

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

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

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

Darmstadt, December 8th.

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

December 11th.

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

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

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

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

December 15th.

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

There will be many Princes at Brussels, I believe.

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

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

December 20th.

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

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

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

Darmstadt, December 24th.

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

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

Christmas Day.

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

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

December 30th.

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

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

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