THE END. 1878.

“Life is serious—a journey to another end.” (December 12, 1874.)

THE state of the Grand Duchess’ health prevented her from accompanying the Grand Duke to Berlin on the occasion of the marriages of Princess Charlotte of Prussia (eldest daughter of the Crown Prince and Princess of Germany) to the Hereditary Prince of Saxe-Meiningen, and of Princess Elizabeth of Prussia (sister to the Duchess of Connaught) to the Hereditary Grand Duke of Oldenburg. Although she was unable to go out much into society, or to take an active part in social gayeties, her interest and sympathy were unabated, particularly in all matters concerning art and science. She received many guests, and Prince William of Prussia (then studying at Bonn) often visited her.

The celebrated portrait painter Heinrich von Angeli came to Darmstadt in the spring to paint a family picture of the Grand Duke and Grand Duchess and their children by command of the Queen of England. Princess Alice greatly enjoyed his acquaintance, and was charmed as well by his musical talent as by his wonderful genius in painting. Angeli’s picture of Princess Alice was the last ever painted of her.

The repeated attempts on the life of the old Emperor of Germany affected the Grand Duchess very nearly, as from her childhood she had ever been greatly attached to him.

The Grand Duke and Grand Duchess with their children spent the summer months of this year at Eastbourne. Sea-bathing and sea-air had again been recommended as necessary.

The Grand Duke had to return to Darmstadt soon after their arrival at Eastbourne, but toward the end of the stay there he rejoined them.

The whole family visited the Queen at Osborne.

Although the Grand Duchess had, during all her former visits to England, shown her lively personal interest in all charitable institutions in London, visiting many herself, she seems on the occasion of this, her last, visit to her beloved native land, to have taken a more than ordinary interest in these matters, and to have also gone minutely into the subject of the exertions which were being made to relieve the pressing wants of the poor.

The Grand Duchess had scarcely arrived at Eastbourne (an eye-witness tells us), when she at once made enquiries as to the condition of the poorer parts of that town, and determined to visit them herself. She loved to wander about that part of Eastbourne which is inhabited by the fishing population. She often entered their cottages, visiting the sick, and showing her sympathy to all. The visits to the Sunday-school were a great pleasure to her. The Princess often remarked, “How much good such instruction must do!”

She attended divine service at a church some little way off, not because the service was particularly attractive, but because the church and its congregation needed support and help.

Amongst those good works which from year to year had specially occupied her were the Refuges and Penitentiaries for those poor women and girls who most need our help. Much had been done in this way in England, and the Albion Home at Brighton, founded and managed solely by Mrs. Murray Vicars, had proved of the greatest service and blessing. The Grand Duchess invited Mrs. Vicars to come and see her at Eastbourne, and tell herself about her work, and showed her, when she came, the greatest sympathy and kindness, entering with the warmest interest into all details of the working of the Home.

Before leaving Eastbourne the Grand Duchess went incognita to Brighton, and paid a private visit to the Albion Home. “I only come as one woman to visit another” were the Princess Alice’s own words, when Mrs. Vicars begged her to be allowed to tell the poor Penitents who their visitor was.

The Grand Duchess was greatly impressed, after her visit to the Home, by Mrs. Vicars’ wonderful power and practical knowledge, and by her gentle, loving way toward those poor girls; and this in a great measure induced her, with the Grand Duke’s consent, to become Patroness of the Albion Home. At first, when asked by Mrs. Vicars to become the Patroness, she had refused to do so; but, having reconsidered the subject, she wrote to her the following letter from Darmstadt:

New Palace, Darmstadt.

Dear Mrs. Vicars:—I have returned from visiting the Home so convinced of your excellent management of it in every respect, that, if you still feel my becoming Patroness of the Home (and of the Ladies’ Association connected with it) can further the good and noble work, I am most willing to comply with your request. The spirit of true, loving, Christian sympathy in which the work was begun by you, and with which it is carried out; the cheerfulness you impart, the motherly solicitude you offer to those struggling to return to a better life, cannot fail to restore in a great measure that feeling of self-respect so necessary to those voluntarily seeking once more a virtuous life, and by so doing regaining the respect of their fellow-creatures. “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto Me.” In this spirit may the Home, as well as the Association connected with it, continue its good work. My entire sympathy and good wishes will ever be with it.

Ever yours truly, Alice.

After the Grand Duchess’ return to Darmstadt, she devoted herself with redoubled energy to all her charitable institutions; but, alas! she felt more and more that her bodily strength was no longer equal to her exertions.

In the autumn she had the happiness of seeing several of her family at Darmstadt, the last of them being her brother, Prince Leopold.

Darmstadt, January 26th.

Though I have no letter, and expect none at such a moment, still I must send you a few lines to tell you how constantly I think of you, and of my own beloved and adored country. The anxiety you must be going through, and the feelings you must experience, I share with my whole heart. * * *

God grant it may be possible to do the right thing, for it is late, and the complication is dreadful!

I have barely any thoughts for any thing else; and the Opposition seems to me to have been more wrong in its country’s interest, and to have done her a greater harm than can ever be redressed. It is a serious, awful moment for Sovereign, country, and Government; and in your position none have to go through what you have—and after all so alone!

I hope your health bears up under the anxiety.

April 9th.

* * * Angeli has arrived, and will begin at once. We thought Ernie and Ella—Victoria is too big, though she is the eldest and ought to be in the picture; she would be too preponderant. Angeli is quite lost in admiration of Aliky and May, who are, I must say myself, such a lovely little pair as one does not often see. He will begin our heads to-morrow. * * *

Darmstadt, November 6th.

* * * I am but very middling, and leading a very quiet life, which is an absolute necessity. It is so depressing to be like this. But our home life is always pleasant—never dull, however quiet. Only a feeling of weariness and incapacity is in itself a trial.

On the 8th of November Princess Victoria was suddenly attacked with diphtheria. How and where she caught the illness remains unexplained. The Grand Duchess, always so courageous in illness, and fearing none, had, however, always had a great horror of diphtheria. Princess Victoria was at once isolated from her family and the others in the house; but, alas! to no purpose. Princess Alice superintended the nursing, aided by the nurses and the Lady Superintendent of her hospital. The terrible anxiety of the poor mother during that illness is best described by her own telegrams and letters to the Queen.

Telegrams.

November 8th.

Victoria has diphtheria since this morning. The fever is high. I am so anxious.

November 10th.

Victoria is out of danger.

November 12th.

This night my precious Aliky has been taken ill.

Darmstadt, November 12th.

This is dreadful! my sweet, precious Aliky so ill! At three this morning Orchie called me, saying she thought the child was feverish; complaining of her throat. I went over to her, looked into her throat, and there were not only spots, but a thick covering on each side of her throat of that horrid white membrane. I got the steam inhaler, with chlorate of potash for her at once, but she was very unhappy, poor little thing. We sent for the doctor, who lives close by, and who saw at once that it was a severe case. We have put her upstairs near Victoria, who is quite convalescent, and have fumigated the nursery to try and spare May and the others. It is a terrible anxiety; it is such an acute, and often fatal, illness. * * * Victoria has been graciously preserved; may God preserve these [the younger ones] also in His mercy! My heart is sore; and I am so anxious.

Telegram.

November 13th.

Aliky tolerable. Darling May very ill; fever so high. Irène has got it too. I am miserable; such fear for the sweet little one!

On the 14th of November Prince Ernest and the Grand Duke were attacked with diphtheria, so that, up to that time, Princess Elizabeth only had escaped the infection. She was sent to her Grandmother’s, Princess Charles of Hesse’s palace.

Telegram.

November 15th.

My precious May no better; suffers so much. I am in such horrible fear. Irène and Ernie fever less. Ernie’s throat very swelled. Louis no worse; almost no spots. Aliky recovering.

Evening.

Darling May’s state unchanged; heart-rending. Louis’ fever and illness on the increase. The others, as one could expect; all severe cases. May’s most alarming.

The sympathy with the Grand Duchess in her great anxiety was universal. In many of the churches special services were held, praying for the recovery of that dearly beloved family. The well-known suffering state of the Grand Duchess’ own health, so sorely tried at this moment, caused the gravest fears to be entertained on her own account.

On the morning of the 16th of November sweet little Princess “May”—the Princess’ sunshine, as she ever called her—was taken from her doting parents. The Grand Duchess telegraphed as follows to her mother:

November 16th.

* * * Our sweet little one is taken. Broke it to my poor Louis this morning; he is better; Ernie very, very ill. In great anguish.

Telegrams.

November 16th; evening.

The pain is beyond words, but “God’s will be done!” Our precious Ernie is still a source of such terrible fear. The others, though not safe, better.

November 17th.

Ernie decidedly better; full of gratitude.

November 18th.

My patients getting better; hope soon to have them better. Last painful parting at three o’clock.

The coffin had to be closed very soon. It was entirely covered with flowers. The Grand Duchess quietly entered the room where it had been placed. She knelt down near it, pressing a corner of the pall to her lips; then she rose, and the funeral service began.

When it was over, she cast one long, loving look at the coffin which hid her darling from her. She then left the room and slowly walked up-stairs. At the top of the stairs she knelt down, and taking hold of the golden balustrade, looked into the mirror opposite to her to watch the little coffin being taken out of the house. She was marvellously calm; only long-drawn sighs escaped her.

When all had left the palace, she went to the Grand Duke, who was to be kept in ignorance of all that was going on. The Grand Duchess had herself arranged every detail of the funeral.

Telegram.

November 19th.

The continued suspense almost beyond endurance. Ernie thought he was going to die in the night, and was in a dreadful state for some hours. Louis very nervous, too; but they are not worse. The six cases have been one worse than the other.

Later, November 19th.

Ernie had a relapse, and our fears are increased. I am in an agony between hope and fear.

The Grand Duchess desired her warmest thanks to be expressed to the country for their heart-felt sympathy.

On the 25th of November the Grand Duke was able for the first time to leave his bed for a few hours, and on the 6th of December he and Prince Ernest drove out for the first time, in a shut carriage.

It was on this day that the Grand Duchess wrote for the last time to the Queen.

November 19th.

Beloved Mama:—Tender thanks for your dear, dear letter, soothing and comforting!

Our sweet May waits for us up there, and is not going through our agony, thank God! Her bright, happy, sunshiny existence has been a bright spot in our lives—but oh! how short! I don’t touch on the anguish that fills me, for God in His mercy helps me, and it must be borne; but to-day, again, the fear and anxiety for Ernie is still greater. This is quite agonizing to me; how I pray that he may be spared to me!

His voice is so thick; new membranes have appeared. He cries at times so bitterly, but he is gayer just now.

To a mother’s heart, who would spare her children every pain, to have to witness what I have, and am still doing, knowing all these precious lives hanging on a thread, is an agony barely to be conceived, save by those who have gone through it.

* * * Your letter says so truly all I feel. I can but say, in all one’s agony there is a mercy and a peace of God, which even now He has let me feel. * * *

P.S.—I mean to try and drive a little this afternoon. I shall go out with Orchie. Of my six children, since a week none more about me, and not my husband. It is like a very awful dream to me.

November 22d.

Beloved Mama:—Many thanks for your dear letter, and for all the expressions of sympathy shown by so many! I am very grateful for it.

Dear Ernie having been preserved through the greatest danger is a source of such gratitude! These have been terrible days! He sent a book to May this morning. It made me almost sick to smile at the dear boy. But he must be spared yet awhile what to him will be such a sorrow.

For myself, darling Mama, God has given me comfort and help in all this trouble, and I am sure His Spirit will remain near us in the trials to come! Great sympathy, such as all show, is a balm; but I am very tired, and the pain is often very great; but pain can be turned into a blessing, and I pray this may be so. * * *

When alone, I rest; and writing even is a physical exertion. Those around me have spared me all they could, but one must bear the greater weight one’s self.

May God spare you all future sorrow, and give you the peace which He alone can give!

P.S.—I finish these lines at my dear Louis’ bed. He thanks you so much for your dear, loving sympathy. Thank God, he is doing well. But the pain they have all gone through in their poor throats has been awful. The doctors and nurses—eight! for they have changed day and night, and had such constant attendance—have been all I could wish.

Your loving child, Alice.

Darmstadt, December 1st.

* * * Every one shows great sympathy, I hear, everywhere. * * * All classes have shown a great attachment to us personally, and to the House, and amongst the common people—it goes home to them that our position does not separate us so very far from them, and that in death, danger, and sorrow the palace and the hut are visited alike.

So many deep and solemn lessons one learns in these times, and I believe all works together for good for those who believe in God. * * *

December 2d.

So many pangs and pains come, and must yet for years to come. Still gratitude for those left is so strong, and indeed resignation entire and complete to a higher will; and so we all feel together, and encourage each other. Life is not endless in this world, God be praised! There is much joy—but oh! so much trial and pain; and, as the number of those one loves increases in Heaven, it makes our passage easier—and home is there!

Ever your loving child, Alice.

December 6th.

Louis and Ernie will go out in a shut carriage to-day, though it rains—but it is warm. Louis’ strength returns so slowly. Of course he shuns the return to life, where our loss will be more realized; to him, shut off so long, it is more like a dream. I am so thankful they were all spared the dreadful realities I went through—and alone. My cup seemed very full, and yet I have been enabled to bear it. But daily I must struggle and pray for resignation; it is a cruel pain and one that will last years, as I know but too well.

Ever your loving child, A.

Amongst the last letters from the Grand Duchess is one written on the 6th of December, instructing Prince Ernest’s new tutor in his duties. Princess Alice wished her son to become a truly good man in every sense of the word—upright, truthful, courageous, unselfish, ready to help others, modest and retiring. She wished his tutor to encourage in him fear of God and submission to His will, a high sense of duty, a feeling of honor and of truth.

It had been settled that as soon as the convalescent patients were able to be moved, the whole Grand Ducal family should go to Heidelberg for thorough change of air.

On the 7th of December the Grand Duchess went to the railway station to see the Duchess of Edinburgh, who was passing through Darmstadt on her way to England. That night she first complained of feeling ill; and on the following morning the unmistakable symptoms of diphtheria had begun to show themselves. It is supposed that she must have taken the infection, when one day, in her grief and despair, she had laid her head on her sick husband’s pillow. During the first day of her illness she settled several things, and gave various orders in case of her death. Still it was evident that she thought she would recover.

She bore her great sufferings with wonderful patience, and was most obedient to every thing the doctors ordered her to do, however painful and trying. Those were terrible days! How much so to her is apparent from short sentences which from time to time she wrote down on slips of paper. Every thing was done to alleviate her sufferings—every thing to encourage her. The high fever which set in at the commencement of the illness did not decrease on the third day as in the previous cases, though her sufferings were perhaps not so great. At times she was very restless and distressed. In the night of the 12th of December she gave many directions to her mother-in-law, and to her lady-in-waiting. At times, too, she spoke in the most touching manner about her household, also enquiring kindly after poor and sick people in the town. Then followed hours of great prostration.

On the morning of the 13th of December the doctors could no longer disguise from the Grand Duke that their efforts to save that beloved life were in vain. As the danger increased, the Grand Duchess expressed herself as feeling better. She received her mother-in-law that afternoon in the most affectionate manner; also saw her lady-in-waiting; and when the Grand Duke entered her room her joy was most evident. She even read two letters—the last one being from her mother. After some hours of heavy sleep she woke perfectly conscious and took some nourishment. She then composed herself to rest, saying: “Now I will go to sleep again.” And out of this sleep she woke no more.

Shortly after 1 A.M. on the 14th of December a change took place which left no doubt to those around that that precious life was fast ebbing away. When, a little later on, Princess Charles went into the Grand Duke’s room, who was then asleep, she had left the Grand Duchess perfectly unconscious. It required no words of his mother’s to break the news to him.

At half-past eight that morning Princess Alice died peacefully, murmuring to herself, like a child going to sleep: “From Friday to Saturday—four weeks—May—dear Papa——!”

It was exactly to the day four weeks since Princess May’s death, and seventeen years since the death of the Prince Consort. On the following Tuesday evening, the 17th of December, after a solemn service held by the English chaplain, the remains of the beloved Princess were quietly removed from her own palace to the chapel in the Grand Ducal Castle. The next day, amidst the universal grief of high and low, the coffin was placed in the Mausoleum at the Rosenhöhe. Her brothers, the Prince of Wales and Prince Leopold, were present.

A beautiful recumbent monument by Boehm, representing the Princess holding Princess May in her arms, is now placed in the Mausoleum over the spot where she rests.