Part 22

In the autumn the Prince and Princess went to Heiden in Appenzell for a little change. From there they paid a visit to the Prince of Hohenzollern at his castle of the Weinburg. At the end of November they went to England with their three youngest children, and remained there till the 23d of December, when they returned to Darmstadt.

DARMSTADT, January 12th.

* * * We were both much shocked to hear of the death of the Emperor Napoleon, and I must say grieved; personally he was so amiable, and she is much to be pitied. That he should die an exile in England and, as Louis Phillipe did, is most striking. In England the sympathy shown must touch the poor Empress, and, as I telegraphed, we should be so grateful to you, if you would kindly be the medium through which both of us would like to express to her how much we feel for her. How proud you must ever be, in feeling that your country is the one always able to offer a home and hospitality for those driven away from their own countries! England is before all others in that; and its warm sympathy for those who are in misfortune is such a generous feeling.

Fannie Baillie’s Victoria is such a nice girl. She comes to our children every Saturday, and is not above playing at dolls with them, though she is so much older. There are two rather nice little English girls, daughters of the chaplin here, who come to them.

February 1st.

If any one will feel with us, I know you will do so most. Since three days, with an interruption of one day, poor Frittie has been bleeding incessantly from a slight cut on his ear, which was nearly healed. Since yesterday evening we cannot stop it. All the usual remedies were used, but as yet unavailing. Just now the place has been touched again with caustic and tightly bound, after we had with great trouble got rid of the quantity of dried blood from his hair, ear, neck, etc. He is horrified at the sight of so much blood, but shows great strength as yet in spite of so great a loss. He is of course very irritable, and, as he must not scream, one has to do whatever he wishes, which will spoil him dreadfully. I own I was much upset when I saw that he had this tendency to bleed, and the anxiety for the future, even if he gets well over this, will remain for years to come. All have their trials, one or another, and, please God, we shall bear whatever is sent without complaining. To see one’s own child suffer is for a mother a great trial. With what pleasure one would change places with the little one, and bear its pain!

February 6th.

* * * In the summer Fritz had a violent attack of dysentery, which was so prevalent at Darmstadt, and off and on for two months it continued, until Scotland stopped it; and this illness made him sensitive and delicate.

* * * What has caused him such great suffering has been that, what with the use of caustic, the tight bandaging and the iron, a quantity of small gatherings formed on his cheek and neck, causing such an amount of pain that he could not remain in bed or anywhere quiet for the two first days and nights. Now they are drying off, the itching is such that he don’t know what to do with himself, and we have the greatest difficulty in keeping him from rubbing or scratching himself. The want of sleep through pain, etc., has excited him very much, so that he has been very difficult to manage. The bandages of course cannot be removed, and great care will be taken when they are removed, lest bleeding should re-commence. He has been out twice a day as usual all along, and his skin never quite lost its pinkness and mottled appearance; all of which are signs that he has good blood and to spare, else he would look worse and have shown weakness, which after all he did not. * * *

He speaks well for his age, and is, alas! very wild, so that it will be impossible to keep him from having accidents. * * *

* * * I have been playing some lovely things (very difficult) of Chopin lately, which I know you would admire.

DARMSTADT, February 19th.

My best thanks for your dear letter! That I forgot to thank you at once for dear Grandmama’s very beautiful print[111] came from my having the lithograph of that picture in my room always before me, and, though the print far surpasses it, I am so fond of the lithograph, that I forgot the print at the moment I was writing to you. Before that dear picture, the painting of which I recollect so well, my children often sit, and I tell them of her who was and ever will be so inexpressibly dear to us all. In the schoolroom, in my sitting-room, in the nursery, there is, with the pictures of you and dear Papa, always one of dear Grandmama, and, in my room and the schoolroom, the Duke of Kent also.

My sitting-room has only prints and lithographs, all Winterhalters, of the family: you and Papa, your receiving the Sacrament at the Coronation, Raphael’s “Disputa” and “Bella Jardiniérre,” and the lovely little engraving of yourself from Winterhalter’s picture in Papa’s room at Windsor.[112]

Vicky is coming here on Wednesday. The Grand Duke of Weimar has kindly allowed Mr. Ruland to join us as cicerone: which for galleries, etc., is very necessary, and we take no courier. Rome is our first halting-place in Italy, and for years it has been my dream and wish to be in that wonderful city, where the glorious monuments of antiquity and of the Middle Ages carry one back to those marvellous times.

I am learning Italian, and studying the history and art necessary to enable me, in the short time we have, to see and understand the finest and most important monuments. I am so entirely absorbed and interested in these studies just now, that I have not much time for other things. My father-in-law, perhaps Princess Charles too, will be with Aunt Marie of Russia at Sorrento then. William will probably join us at Rome; he is quite a connoisseur in art, and a good historian, quite at home in Rome, about which he raves. I must say that I look forward immensely to this journey; it opens a whole new life to one. * * *

Kanné has made all arrangements for us at Rome. We shall leave here about the 18th of March.

ROME, HÔTEL ALLEMAGNE, March 27th.

* * * We left the dear children well, but very sorry at parting. The two days at Munich were most interesting. The National Museum in its way surpasses any I have ever seen, and in originals is richer even than South Kensington. Aunt Mariechen was very kind and dear; the Moriers very amiable hosts, and we met some interesting people there. Two hours before we left, after eight in the evening, Ludwig and Otto[113] came to us and remained some time.

The Brenner, over which we came, was covered with snow--most beautiful scenery, like St. Moritz in the Engadine. The journey was very fatiguing. We had a morning for Bologna, and had to wait three hours at Florence for the night train--time enough to drive round and in the town, which is most lovely. What trees, mountains, colors! then the fine buildings!

The following morning at six we reached Rome. The sun was bright, the distance blue--the grand ruins dark and sharp against the sky, cypresses, stone pines, large cork oaks, making up such a beautiful picture. Every day I admire the scenery more and more; every little bit of architecture, broken or whole, with a glimpse of the Campagna, a picturesque dirty peasant and a dark tree close by, is a picture in itself which one would like to frame and hang up in one’s room. It is too, too beautiful! To tell you all we have seen and are seeing would tire you. Bertie and Arthur’s descriptions, too, so lately have told you the same.

The Via Appia, the grand old road lined with ruins of splendid tombs, leading from Albano through the Campagna to Rome, along which St. Paul went, and the great kings and emperors made their triumphal entries, is a fit one to lead to such a city as Rome, which ruled the world.

The antique monuments, those of the Middle Ages, are so magnificent and interesting that as yet I don’t know which to mention first or admire most!

Our incognito did not last long (though even now we maintain it), for the Crown Princess heard of us and came to see us, as did the Crown Prince, and we had to go to the Quirinal, a morning visit without _entourage_.

PALM SUNDAY, ROME, April 6th.

* * * We saw the beginning of mass and blessing of the palms in St. Peter’s this morning, with a procession and beautiful singing. Whilst the procession, with part of the choristers, go outside the church, some remain within, and they respond to each other, which produces a very striking effect. In spite of the bad style inside of St. Peter’s, as a whole it produces a marvellous effect through its wonderful size and richness of decoration.

I saw two convents yesterday: the Sepolte Vive, which Bertie and Alix saw, and where the nuns asked much after him, and said that he was _molto amabile_; and another equally strict one, but not austere, where the Superior told me that Aunt Feodore with Princess Hohenzollern had paid them a visit. Monsignore Howard was the only gentleman with me and the ladies, as they never see any men. Their idea is, that they spend the whole of their life in contemplation and prayer, so as to pray for those who cannot pray for themselves.

The museums of the Vatican and of the Capitol, with their enormous collection of antiques, are very fine. The celebrated Venus, Apollo Belvidere, the Torso (which Michael Angelo admired so much, and was taken to touch when he could no more see it), the wounded Gladiator, etc., are there. The Sistine Chapel, with Michael Angelo’s frescoes, which are certainly the most marvellous pieces of painting and conception, is very dark, and the frescoes are suffering much from the smoke, dust, etc. Raphael’s Stanze are far better preserved, and lighter than I had expected, and of such beauty!

I thought so often and so much of dear Papa, when I saw the originals of all the pictures he so much admired and took such interest in. How this alone fascinates me I cannot tell you. In these galleries and churches there is only too much to be seen, besides the antique ruins, etc. You would be terrified to see how full our day is from before nine. Mr. Ruland is an excellent cicerone for pictures and sculptures. William is with us here since last Sunday.

We are going to the Villa Ludovisi this afternoon. The gardens of the Villa Doria Pamfili are most beautiful: the terraces there remind me of Osborne. I can see in many things where dear Papa got his ideas from for Osborne and for his decorations, which Professor Gruner understood so well to carry out.

Many thanks for your having told Lady Churchill to send me an account of your opening of the Park.[114] I am glad that all went off so well, and that you were not the worse for it.

I have quite refused going to Naples. We shall arrange probably to go for two days to Castellamare (one hour from Naples); from thence to Sorrento and Pompeii, and return here. As yet it is not hot here at all.

ROME, April 9th.

Let me thank you for your letter written on our dear Victoria’s birthday. I have never been away from her on her birthday before, and though we see such fine interesting things, yet I feel very homesick for the dear children always. In three weeks or less I shall see them again. I look forward all the time with perfect impatience, as I am so rarely separated from them, and we live so much together. Every other day Fräulein Kitz and Orchard write, so that I have news daily.

Louis’ father wrote me to-day, as his sister asks us to her house at Sorrento for one or two nights for the 12th; but as I was rather deranged from a sick headache yesterday, I shall wait a day before we decide. It is wet and quite cold to-day.

We visited San Clemente two days ago, and Father Mulooly took us through the three churches--one under the other. The antique one was full of water, and we walked about on rickety planks, each with a lighted taper, as it is quite dark there. It is most curious, and the old paintings on the walls telling the legend of St. Clement are wonderfully full of expression and feeling for the time they were done.

ROME, April 19th.

* * * Our visit to Sorrento went off well. We got there at one on Monday morning for luncheon. The sun had given me a dreadful headache, which ended in sickness, so that I could not leave my room. Marie sat with me, and was very dear and kind. The next day, she and my Aunt, who seems tired and dispirited, had bad headaches. We went with my father-in-law and some of the ladies and gentlemen on the following afternoon in the Empress’ yacht to Capri, close by, to see the blue grotto.

The Bay of Naples, particularly seen from Sorrento, is most lovely--like a beautiful dream--the colors, the outlines are so perfect.

We breakfasted together in the morning with Aunt and Marie, and on Tuesday we took our leave.

We shall go to Florence the 23d, (the first station homeward); remain there three or four days; one night at Verona, and then home. It is a fatiguing journey, and we have so often had people in the carriage, which is very unpleasant--some very rude English, going to Sorrento; they did not know us.

FLORENCE, April 25th.

Your kind wishes I received early this morning. Thousand thanks for them, and for the presents which I shall find on getting home.

I shall be so glad to have a large photograph of yourself. Thirty years! Good-bye, youth! but I feel quite as old as I am, though the time has flown by so fast. I would it had flown as well as it has fast! I look back to the past with great gratitude to the Almighty for innumerable blessings, and pray our life may continue so blest. I have a very bad headache--neuralgia; I have it continually; and the journey is very long and tiring. Darling Ernie wanted to buy something for my birthday, and he thought a china doll with a bath would be the best. I am glad Victoria remembered to write to Beatrice as I told her; they are very fond of their Auntie.

Florence seems a beautiful town, and the situation amongst the hills, over which the suburbs spread, is most picturesque.

I enclose the last telegrams from Sorrento. It is _fièvre du pays_ which Marie had. We remained at Rome a day longer on account of poor Alfred. He is very patient and hopeful.

The King, whom we saw at the races, sends you his respects, and was delighted with the cream-colored horse you sent him. Many thanks for the flowers. I enclose two from here. The account of your giving away the colors[115] I had already read with interest.

We must go to the Grand Duchess Marie to-morrow; Monday to Verona, twelve hours; next morning to Munich, and that night to Darmstadt. How I look forward to seeing the dear children! It seems to me an age since we parted.

DARMSTADT, June 9th.

Tender thanks for your last letter, and for every word of sympathy! The weary days drag on, and bring much pain at times, though there are moments of comfort, and even consolation.

The horror of my darling’s sudden death[116] at times torments me too much, particularly waking of a morning; but when I think he is at rest, free from the sorrow we are suffering, and from every evil to come, I feel quite resigned. He was such a bright child. It seems so quiet next door; I miss the little feet, the coming to me, for we lived so much together, and Ernie feels so lost, poor love.

We were at the Mausoleum with all the children yesterday evening. It is a quiet spot amidst trees and flowers, with a lovely view toward the hills and plain. He loved flowers so much. I can’t see one along the roadside without wishing to pick it for him.

There is a young sculptor from Stuttgart, who was accidently here, and, meeting the children, had asked permission to make medallions of them. The _last_ afternoon sweet Frittie had sat to him, and he is now making a lovely bust of him, which is getting very like.

On Wednesday my mother-in-law, with her three sons, goes to Berlin; on Thursday Uncle Adalbert[117] will be buried in the Dom.

We sha’n’t be able to go to Seeheim until Saturday.

How _too kind_ of you to have asked us to Osborne! How a rest and home air would have revived me--and the pleasure of seeing you again; but Louis cannot leave until after his birthday. If he did get leave, it would so throw him out before he has to command; and, having been absent this spring, he feels it an impossibility, and this I am sure you will understand. I could not leave him or the children. Our circle has grown smaller, and drawn us all the more together with a dread of parting from each other. We thank you a thousand times for the kind offer.

SEEHEIM, June 22d.

* * * I do earnestly hope that too long a time may not elapse before we meet.

It is very hot, and I feel very low and unhappy.

To-morrow this house will be full, and all the Russians, etc., close by. Had there only been any other quiet country place to be at, how gladly would I have escaped this.

* * * It is only three weeks to-day since we took our darling to his last resting-place! I wish I could go there to-day, but it is too hot and too far.

Fritz and Louise of Baden came two days ago to Darmstadt, to see my parents-in-law and us.

Dr. Macleod’s letter is very kind.

I enclose two photographs of dear Frittie out of groups, the negative of one of which unluckily does not exist any more. The little blouse is the one he had on on that terrible day. My darling sweet child--to have lost him so! To my grave shall I carry this sorrow with me.

In the book you sent me there is a fine poem by Miss Procter, “Our grief, our friend,” called “Friend Sorrow,” which expresses so much what I myself feel about a deep grief.

SEEHEIM, June 27th.

* * * It was just four weeks yesterday since our darling died, and we went to the Mausoleum. I felt the whole weight of my sorrow, and the terrible shock doubly again. But the precious child does not--that is a comfort. He is happy and at rest, whilst we grieve and mourn. Ernie always prays for Frittie, and talks to me of him when we walk together.

Aunt Marie arrived at two on Monday, and a few hours later came to see me, and was so sympathizing, motherly, and loving; it touched me much. At such moments she is peculiarly soft and womanly, and she loves her own children so tenderly. She cried much, and told me of the sad death of her eldest girl, who was seven, and of the terrible, irreparable loss her eldest son was to her. She has such a religious, truly resigned way of looking at great sorrows such as these. In the room I am now living in Aunt Marie had seen Frittie in his bath two years ago, and she remembered all about him. She is coming to “Sunshine’s” toilet this evening; it always amuses her, and she is very fond of the children.

SEEHEIM, July 9th.

* * * There are days which seem harder than others, and when I feel very heartsick, prayer and quiet and solitude do me good.

I hear Affie comes on Thursday night. This evening the Emperor arrives. Poor Marie[118] is very happy, and so quiet. * * * How I feel for the parents, this only daughter (a character of _Hingebung_ [perfect devotion] to those she loves), the last child entirely at home, as the parents are so much away that the two youngest, on account of their studies, no more travel about.

SEEHEIM, July 26th.

* * * I am glad that you have a little colored picture of my darling. I feel lower and sadder than ever, and miss him so much, so continually. There is such a gap between Ernie and Sunny, and the two boys were such a pretty pair, and were become such companions. Having so many girls, I was so proud of our two boys! The pleasure did not last long, but he is _mine_ more than ever now. He seems near me always, and I carry his precious image in my heart everywhere. That can never fade or die!

SEEHEIM, August 2d.

Many thanks for your dear letter! I am feeling so low and weak to-day that kind words are doubly soothing. You feel so with me, when you understand how long and deep my grief must be. And does one not grow to love one’s grief, as having become part of the being one loved--as if through _this_ one could still pay a tribute of love to them, to make up for the terrible loss, and missing of not being able to do any thing for the beloved one any more?[119] I am so much with my children, and am so accustomed to care for them and their wants daily, that I miss not having Frittie, the object of our greatest care, far more than words can describe; and in the quiet of our every-day life, where we have only the children around us, it is doubly and trebly felt, and is a sorrow that has entered into the very heart of our existence.

May the hour of trial and grief bring its blessing with it, and not have come in vain! The day passes so quickly, when one can do good and make others happy, and one leaves always so much undone. I feel more than ever, one should put nothing off; and children grow up so quickly and leave one, and I would long that mine should take nothing but the recollection of love and happiness from their home with them into the world’s fight, knowing that they have there _always_ a safe harbor, and open arms to comfort and encourage them when they are in trouble. I do hope that this may become the case, though the lesson for parents is so difficult, being continually _giving_, without always finding the return.