Part 14

I can’t find words to say how sorry I am that dear sweet Arthur should have the small-pox! and that you should have this great anxiety and worry. God grant that the dear boy may get well over it, and that his dear handsome face be not marked! Where in the world could he have caught it? The Major kindly telegraphs daily, and you can fancy, far away, how anxious one is. I shall be very anxious to get a letter with accounts, for I think constantly of him, and of you. My parents-in-law wish me to tell you how they share your anxiety, and how they wish soon to hear of dear Arthur’s convalescence; of course my Louis likewise, for he shares all my feelings, being a real brother towards my _Geschwister_ [brothers and sisters].

We both paid the King of Prussia our respects at Frankfort this morning, principally to tell him that Bertie had been so grieved at the ill success of his intended visit, as the Queen begged us to do.

I am better to-day, but Ella and Irène can’t shake off their colds, and poor Ella is altogether unwell. Victoria is all right.

We are going on the 18th to Baden for Fritz’s birthday.

DARMSTADT, October 14th.

How glad I am to see by your letter that darling Arthur is going on so very well. One can’t be too thankful; and it is a good thing over, and will spare one’s being anxious about him on other occasions.

Bertie and Alix have been here since Saturday afternoon, and leave to-morrow. They go straight to Antwerp, and Bertie is going back to Brussels to see the cousins.

The visit of the King went off very well, and Alix was pleased with the kindness and civility of the King. I hear that the meeting was satisfactory to both parties, which I am heartily glad of. Bearing ill-will is always a mistake, besides its not being right.

Dear Alix walked up our staircase with two sticks, of course very slowly, but she is improving wonderfully, though her knee is quite stiff.

Poor Jäger is a little better, and the momentary danger is past, though I fear he cannot ultimately recover. How hard for poor Katrinchen! There is much sorrow in the world, and how often such a share falls to the best and gentlest! I, of course, go to see him daily, but it always goes to my very heart to see that attached and faithful creature dying slowly away. How is Brown’s sister?

We hope that Countess Blücher will return here with Vicky and me from Baden for a few days, as it is an age since Vicky has seen her.

Dear Alix is writing in my room at this moment, and is so dear and sweet. She is a most lovable creature.

DARMSTADT, October 23d.

I have had the pleasure of having Augusta and the Dean [Stanley] here since yesterday, but they leave again this morning.

The King of Prussia is here to-day, and there is a large dinner for him in the Schloss, and he is kind enough to come and see me afterward.

The accounts of poor dear Aunt Feodore are so sad, and I hear she does not look well, and is so low about her eyes and being unable to see you again after so long a separation. She seems alone and lonely, with old age and sickness coming over her. If I had been well, I should have gone to see her. I am much better these last days. I can breathe much better, but the dreadfully swelled ankles and wrists remain as bad as before, and cause great discomfort and even pain. I never had this before.

SCHWEINSBERG, October 24th.

Dear Vicky and Fritz left us yesterday morning. It is such a pleasure to me to think that they, like Bertie and Alix, know my house, and that they have lodged under our roof. When will you, darling Mama? If ever again you go abroad and wish to rest on your way, all in the world we have is at your disposal. How happy that would make us!

We ourselves left at four yesterday afternoon, remaining the night at Marburg, and leaving at a quarter to five in the morning, so that Louis could reach Alsfeld in time to join the shooting-party. We parted at Kirchhain, and I came here with Christa to her mother’s house--so sad and changed since three years ago. It is most kind of them to have taken me up here, and the bracing air will do me good. They know that I can understand what a house of mourning is, and that I don’t want to amuse myself.

Ella cried on parting with us yesterday, and wanted to get into the train with us.

Victoria is going to have a little lesson every other day, when I go back, from Mr. Geyer, who taught poor Willem, and who teaches little girls particularly well. She must begin in my room, as it is better not to have lessons in the nursery, I think. Vicky and I spoke much together about education and taking a governess. I thought to wait a year (for financial reasons), and I think it time enough then--do not you?

DARMSTADT, October 26th.

* * * We arrived late at Baden, and Vicky and Fritz, who had had two long days’ journey, were very tired; but we had to go to dress at once, to go to a _soirée_ at Madame Viardot’s, which lasted till midnight, and at which the King and Queen were present. Her daughters and scholars sang a little operetta she had composed, which was very pretty.

I hope the inauguration of the statue went off as well as the weather would permit.

November 15th.

* * * It is so good and wholesome not always to be one’s own master, and to have to suit one’s self to the wish of others, and, above all, to that of one’s mother and sovereign. ---- feels it as such, and often told me so, regretting how seldom such was the case.

The Moriers are often with us, and we value them much; they are such pleasant companions, and such excellent, clever people.

DARMSTADT, December 6th.

* * * The visit to Claremont must have been quite peculiar for you; and I can fancy it bringing back to your mind the recollections of your childhood. In spring it must be a lovely place, and, with gayer papers on the walls, and a little modern comfort, the house must likewise be very pleasant. Ella, who was breakfasting with me just now, saw me dip my _Bretzel_ in my coffee, and said: “Oh, Mama, you must not! Do you allow yourself to do that?” because I don’t allow her to do it. She is too funny, and by no means quite easy to manage--a great contrast to Victoria, who is a very tractable child. Ella has a wonderful talent for sewing, and, when she keeps quiet a little while, sews quite alone and without mistakes. She is making something for you for Christmas, which she is quite excited about. Victoria’s little afternoon lesson answers admirably, and is the happiest time of the day for her. She can read words already.

We have snow and ice, and no sunshine since some time, and it is not inviting to take the dull walks in the town. But I make a rule to go out twice a day, and keep nearly the same hours as at home.

The account of your visit to Lady Palmerston and to her daughter is most touching. It is so inexpressibly sad for grandmother and mother, for it is unnatural for parents to survive their children, and that makes the grief a so peculiar one, and very hard to bear.

December 9th.

* * * During the long winter days, when Louis is away sometimes four times in the week from six in the morning till six in the evening, and then when he returns from his shooting has his work to do, I feel lonely. I am often for several hours consecutively quite by myself; and for my meals and walks only a lady, as she is the only person in the house besides ourselves. It is during these hours, when one cannot always be reading or at work, that I should wish to have some one to go to, or to come to me to sit and speak with; but such is not the case, and it is this I regret--accustomed as I was to a house full of people, with brothers and sisters, and above all, the chance of being near you. I always feel how willingly I would spend some of those hours with or near you--and the sea ever lies between us! When Louis is at home and free--for in the morning I don’t see him--then I have _all_ that this world can give me, for I am indeed never happier than at his dear side; and time only increases our affection, and binds us closer to each other.

We have deep snow now and sledging the last two days.

December 12th.

Before going to rest, I take up my pen to write a few loving words that they may reach you on the morning of the 14th. The sound of that date brings with it that sad and dreary recollection which, for you, my poor dear Mama, and for us, time cannot alter. As long as our lives last, this time of year must fill us with sad and earnest feelings, and revive the pain of that bitter parting.

I ought not to dwell on those hours now, for it is wrong to open those wounds afresh, which God in His mercy finds little ways and means to heal and soothe the pain of.

Dear darling Papa is, and ever will be _immortal_. The good he has done; the great ideas he has promulgated in the world; the noble and unselfish example he has given, will live on, as I am sure he must ever do, as one of the best, purest, most God-like men that have come down into this world. His example will, and does, stimulate others to higher and purer aims; and I am convinced that darling Papa did not live in vain. His great mission was done; and what has remained undone he has placed in your dear hands, who will know best how to achieve his great works of love and justice. I shall think much, very much, of you on the 14th, and you will be more in my prayers than ever. Think also a little of your most devoted child!

DARMSTADT, Christmas Day.

We missed poor Willem so much in arranging all the things; and poor Jäger’s illness was also sad. We gave him a tree in his room. He looks like a shadow, and his voice is quite hoarse.

To two hospitals, the military and the town one, I took presents yesterday, and saw many a scene of suffering and grief. My children are going to give a certain number of poor children a _Bescheerung_ on New Year’s Day. It is so good to teach them early to be generous and kind to the poor. They even wish to give some of their own things, and such as are _not_ broken.

Your many generous presents will find their use at once, and the Christmas pie, etc., be shared by all the family. The remembrances of those bright happy Christmases at Windsor are constantly before me. None will ever be again what those were, without you, dear Papa, and dear kind Grandmama.

DARMSTADT, December 27th.

* * * I am sure you will have felt under many a circumstance in life, that if any momentary feeling was upon you, and you were writing to some one near and dear, it did you good to put down those feelings on paper, and that, even in the act of doing so, when the words were barely written, the feeling had begun to die away, and the intercourse had done you good.

1868.

Although the winter season brought many social duties with it, the Princess’ active personal attention to all those good works and institutions which she had called into existence never flagged. No subject of interest or importance escaped her, and her time was always fully occupied. In April she met the Crown Prince at Gotha, where Prince Louis also came, on his return from Munich, to fetch her. She spent the months of June and July in England with her three little girls, either at Osborne, Windsor, or in London. The return journey to Darmstadt was made by water as far as Mayence. The autumn was spent at Kranichstein, in the neighborhood of which the manœuvres of the Hessian division took place, at some of which the Princess was present.

On the 25th of November, to the great joy of the parents and the country, a son and heir was born--“a splendid boy.” At his christening, on the 28th of December, he received, at the special desire of the Grand Duke, the names Ernst Ludwig--which had been borne by so many of the old Landgraves of Hesse. The sponsors were the Queen of England and the King of Prussia.

DARMSTADT, January 24th.

* * * To-night I am going to act with two other persons in our dining-room a pretty little piece called “Am Klavier,” but I fear I shall be very nervous, and consequently act badly, which would be too tiresome.

I have never tried to act in any thing since “Rothkäppchen.”

February 14th.

What a fright the news of dear Leopold’s dangerous attack has given us! Mr. Sahl’s letter to Becker arrived yesterday afternoon containing the bad news, and he spoke of so _little_ hope, that I was so upset and so dreadfully distressed for the dear darling, for you, poor Mama, and for us all, that I am quite unwell still to-day.

When your telegram came to-day, and Louise’s letter, I was so relieved and only pray and hope that the improvement may continue. May God spare that young bright and gifted life, to be a comfort and support to you for many a year to come!

Had I only had a telegram! for, the letter being two days old, until your telegram came I passed six such agonizing hours! Away from home, every news of illness or sorrow there is so difficult to bear--when one can share all the anxiety and trouble only _in thought_.

The day passes so slowly without news, and I am always looking toward the door to see if a telegram is coming. Please let me hear regularly till he is quite safe; I do love the dear boy, as I do all my brothers and sisters, so tenderly!

How I wish you had been spared this new anxiety! Those two days must have been dreadful!

Darling Mama, how I wish I were with you! God grant that in future you may send us only good news.

Louis and my parents-in-law send their respectful love and the expression of their warmest sympathy, in which the other members of the family join.

February 2d.

How glad and truly thankful I am, that the Almighty has saved our darling Leopold and spared him to you and to us all! For the second or even third time that life has been given again, when all feared that it must leave us! A mother’s heart must feel this so much more than any other one’s, and dear Leopold, through having caused you all his life so much anxiety, must be inexpressibly dear to you, and such an object to watch over and take care of. Indeed from the depth of my heart I thank God with you for having so mercifully spared dear Leo, and watched over him when death seemed so near!

You will feel deeply now the great joy of seeing a convalescence after the great danger, and I know, through a thousand little things, how your loving and considerate heart will find pleasure and consolation in cheering your patient.

That for the future you must ever be so anxious is a dreadful trial, but it is to be hoped that Leo will yet outgrow this strange illness. I am sure good Archie[85] takes great care of him, and by this time he will have gathered plenty of experience to be a good nurse.

Baby is better, but her poor head and face are perfectly covered with spots, and she was in despair with the smarting and itching, and of course rubbed herself quite sore. Ella has it slightly since this morning.

DARMSTADT, February 13th.

* * * First let me wish you joy for the birth of this new grandson,[86] born on your dear wedding-day. I thought of you on the morning of the 10th, and meant to telegraph, but those dreadful neuralgic pains came on before I had time to look about me, and really laid me prostrate for the whole day, as they lasted so very long. I have never felt so unwell, or suffered so much in my life, and this moment, sitting up in Louis’ room, I feel more weak than I have ever felt on first getting up after my confinements. Quinine has kept me free from pain to-day, and I hope will do so to-morrow. I have been in bed a week and touched absolutely nothing all the time. Yesterday evening, as throughout the day, I had had (but much more slightly) a return of these agonizing attacks, which seized my left eye, ear, and the whole left side of my head and nose. I got up and sat in Louis’ room; I could only bear it for two hours, and all but fainted before I reached my bed. If I can get strength, and have no return of pain, I hope to go out after to-morrow. I could not see the children or any one during this week, and always had my eyes closed, first from pain, and then from exhaustion when the pain left me. I really thought I should go out of my mind, and you know I can stand a tolerable amount of pain.

February 17th.

* * * I am so distressed that you remained so long without news. I was really for a whole week quite incapable of _any idea_ about any thing, and had mostly my eyes shut, and was constantly alone, as I could not bear any one in the room.

General Plonsky, the Corps Commandant from Cassel, came here unexpectedly, and Louis, being under his command, was so taken up during those days, besides an immense deal of military business, that I never saw him more than a few minutes in the morning; and during his free time in the afternoon he sat, like the best nurse in the world, near my bed in the dark room, putting wet rags on my head and trying by every possible means to alleviate my pains. He was touching in the great care he took of me. Louis and Harriet did all for me, and I could bear no one else about me. You see, poor Louis had no time to write, and he always thought that I should be well the next day and write myself.

DARMSTADT, February 24th.

To my and, I fear, dear Vicky’s great disappointment, Dr. Weber won’t let me go to Berlin, and wants me to go to Wiesbaden for a cold-water cure instead. The latter will be intensely dull, as I shall be there for four weeks all alone; but I believe it will be very beneficial, as with every year I seem to get more rheumatic, which at my age is of course not good.

We shall hope to be able to come to Windsor, middle of June, as you desire. The exact time you will kindly let us know later.

DARMSTADT, March 9th.

* * * Louis left yesterday morning for Munich. It is a twelve hours’ journey. There is a procession on foot at the funeral, going to the church through the town, which will last about two hours, and then a very long ceremony in the large, cold Basilica.[87]

DARMSTADT, March 14th.

I send you a few lines to-day for the 16th, the anniversary of the first great sorrow which broke in upon your happy life. How well do I recollect how I accompanied you and dear Papa down to Frogmore that night, our dinner in the flower room, the dreadful watching in the corridor, and then the so painful end! Darling Papa looked so pale, so deeply distressed, and was so full of tender sympathy for you. He told me to go to you and comfort you, and was so full of love and commiseration as I have never seen any man before or after. Dear, sweet Papa! that in that same year we should live together through such another heart-rending scene again, and he not there to comfort or support you, poor Mama!

It sometimes, even at this distance of time, seems nearly impossible that we should have lived through such times, and yet be alive and resigned.

God’s mercy is indeed great; for He sends a balm to soothe and heal the bruised and faithful heart, and to teach one to accommodate one’s self to one’s sorrow, so as to know how to bear it!

DARMSTADT, April 2d.

* * * Louis is in a most unpleasant crisis with the Ministry and the Grand Duke. I don’t know how it will end.

DARMSTADT, April 5th.

Only two words to-day, as my heart is so full of love and gratitude to you who took such care of me this day five years ago, who heard Victoria’s first cry, and were such a comfort and help to us both. All these recollections make Victoria doubly dear to us, and, as in this world one never knows what will happen, I hope that you will always watch over our dear child, and let her be as dear to you as though she had been one of us.

We have spent the day very sadly and quietly together. Louis’ affairs have taken such a turn that he has been obliged to tender the Grand Duke his resignation, as he does not consider it compatible with his honor to remain, under existing circumstances. He has made a great sacrifice to his duty and honor, but doing one’s duty brings the reward with it of a clear conscience.

April 3d.

* * * The King of Prussia has sent General von Bonin here to speak seriously with the Grand Duke, and prove to him through papers, etc., that he has not kept his word, and that he has been very badly advised, and that Louis was quite in the right. The result has been that the poor Grand Duke is scandalized at the state of affairs, and that he really seems to have been more in the dark than was supposed. He gives Louis the command again, sends away the whole _Kriegsministerium_ [War Department], to be reorganized more simply, and with other people, according to Louis’ proposals; and so all _military_ affairs will be in order, and Louis have much greater power to carry out all that has to be done.

We are so pleased at all having turned out thus far well, and know that you will share our feelings. Louis gets more work and a great responsibility; but he has proved himself so capable in every respect, so active and hard-working, that I think and trust he will overcome all difficulties.

I go alone to Gotha, and Louis will follow as soon as he can, so as to spend my birthday there.