Part 10
* * * 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.