Part 13

I hope you notice the pains I take with my writing, for you complained of it at Osborne--I fear, justly--and I am trying to improve it again.

ST. MORITZ, August 16th.

Yesterday we made a beautiful expedition, which it may amuse you to hear of, as in an exaggerated way it reminded me of our nice Scotch ones. The evening before we left with Victor and Lolo (without servants) about eight o’clock for Pontresina. The country looked more beautiful than ever in the brightest moonlight. We found two very small but clean rooms in an hotel outside the village.

The next morning we got up at half-past four, dressed, and breakfasted, then got on four horses with most uncomfortable saddles, with our guide Adam Engler, an amusing man, most active and helpful. We saw the sun rising over the snow-covered mountains, and the valleys gradually coming out clearer.

We were to ascend the Piz Languard, a mountain 1,200 feet high. We rode for two hours by a worse and much steeper road than up the Glassalt, then walked over rocks, sand, and slippery grass, so steep that one could not look up to see where one was going to, quite precipitous on each side, leaving snow and glacier below us. The last bit has a sort of immensely high steps hewn in the rock. After an hour and a half’s hard labor we reached the summit, which is rocky and small--enormous precipices all round. Poor Lolo was giddy for some time, which was very unpleasant. The view from the top is most extensive. The Italian, Swiss, and Tyrolese Alps are all to be seen, but the view was not very clear. We rested and ate something, and drank some Lochnagar whisky. The sun was getting intense. We commenced our descent at eleven o’clock, and had to walk the whole way back, for one can’t ride down. We did not reach Pontresina till nearly four, as we had to rest several times, our limbs ached so, for there is no level ground the whole way, and the stones slip, and it was very hot. I had quite sore feet with blisters all over, so that the last hours were really agonizing. But it is a thing to have done, and the view amply repaid one, though one does not feel tempted to do it a second time. I feel very well, excepting my face, (which is still burning and quite red), and my unfortunate feet.

Poor Christa wrote to me yesterday, and says:--

“I must also tell your Royal Highness that I have received a letter in her own hand from Her Majesty the Queen. I cannot express how deeply this has moved me and filled me with gratitude. God bless the Queen for her rare human love; for surely there is no one, who in such a position as hers, has preserved a heart like hers, so full of kindness and sympathy for others.”[81]

Dear sweet Mama, your kind and sisterly words have been balsam to many a wounded heart, and many are the blessings that have been craved for you from above by hearts filled with thankfulness for your true sympathy.

ST. MORITZ, August 21st.

* * * Now I will tell you of our expedition. Louis and I, Victor and Lolo, and a guide, with each a small bag, left this early on the morning of the 17th (dear Grandmama’s birthday) in a carriage for Pontresina; from thence, in two of those shaky _Bergwagen_, over part of the Bernina Pass, past the magnificent Morteratsch Glacier, which we saw perfectly. The guide told us he had been there with Professor Tyndall, and that the latter had observed that the glacier advanced a foot a day in the warm weather, and old people recollect it having been a mile higher up. We soon left the high-road, and all vegetation, save grass, for a bad path into the Val da Fain. The heat was again intense. We lunched and rested, and then took the horses out of the carts for us ladies to ride. The scenery was wild and severe, until we began again to descend, and came down upon the lovely Livigno Valley, which is Italian, and covered with brown châlets. We reached the village of Livigno, with only wooden huts, by six o’clock, and turned into a funny little dark inn, in which we four found one small but clean room for us--most primitive. As the inhabitants speak a sort of Italian, we had the greatest difficulty to make ourselves understood. Victor cooked part of the dinner, and it was quite good.

We all slept--I resting _on_ a bed, the other three on the floor--in this little room, with the small window wide open.

The next morning we left at nine, and drove on no road in such a small carriage--of course, no springs--our husbands at first getting a lift on the horses, without saddles; then on foot up a steep and dangerous ascent. Splendid weather, but too hot. We went over the Pass of the Stretta: a more difficult and rough ground I never crossed in my life, but splendid scenery. We came on a view which was glorious--such enormous snow-covered mountains and glaciers, with the green valleys deep below looking on Italy and the Tyrol.

We reached Bormio by seven, and took up our residence at a bathing-place, quite magnificently situated, very high up--also Italian. The next morning we started early in carriages, and went over the Stelvio Pass. There, nearly at the risk of my neck, I picked for the first time some Edelweiss, which I am very proud of, as it is always difficult and rare to get.

We got down to St. Maria, which is at the upper end of the Münsterthal and belongs to Switzerland. In the afternoon, dreadfully hot, I was very thirsty and drank off a glass of milk; but how it tasted! It was goat’s milk; the people keep the cow’s milk for butter and cheese. We remained the night there, and left the next morning for here, by Zernetz and Ofen. To get from one valley into another, one has always to ascend and descend enormous heights, and always by narrow paths at the edge of precipices. We enjoyed our tour immensely, and got on perfectly without servants. Packing up my things, though, every morning was a great trouble, and the bag would usually not shut at first. The trees growing here are splendid larches and arven[82]; the latter grow only in these very high regions and in Siberia. Victor and his wife are most amiable and pleasant travelling-companions, and pleased with every thing; not minding to rough it, which we had to do.

SCHLOSS MAINAU, August 30th.

* * * We left St. Moritz at seven, and reached Chur at seven in the evening. The next day we came on here to Louise of Baden. Fritz is at Carlsruhe. This place is very lovely, though, alas! the fine mountains are gone, which one always misses so much.

I thought of you more than I can say on the dear 26th, and I felt low and sad all day. Dear Papa! Time has not yet accustomed us to see each anniversary come round again, and he still remain away. It is so inexpressibly hard for you, and you must feel such intense longing for the dear past. There remains a future! that is the only consolation.

To-day we went with Louise by carriage, and then across part of the lake to the property of the Emperor Napoleon, Arenenberg, which the Empress gave him eight years ago, and which was his home with his mother, and where she died. Every picture and bit of furniture is replaced as it was when the Emperor lived there, and he was there himself and replaced every thing. It is quite a page in history to see all the things that surrounded the Emperor in the days of his misfortune.

DARMSTADT, September 8th.

* * * I spent three days and two nights with dear Alix at Wiesbaden, and I find her leg decidedly better. * * * It is a little less hot to-day, but much hotter even now than we ever have in England. Stallmeister Meyer[83] came to see us yesterday, and we took him out riding, which made him quite happy. Any one who reminds me of the good old times before the 14th of December does me good; it is a pleasure to speak about those past, so happy days! When they came to a close, I lost the greater part of my joyousness, which, though I am so happy, has never returned. A certain melancholy and sadness sometimes overcome me, which I can’t shake off; then I have _Heimweh_ after adored Papa to such an extent that tears are my only relief.

DARMSTADT, September 20th.

* * * The King of Prussia’s visit went off very well here, and both high personages seemed pleased to have got over the meeting. The King came most kindly to see us, and went over all our rooms, which seemed to amuse him. * * * Yesterday evening Sache and Minnie[84] arrived, and we intend going over to see them all to-morrow.

Louis will retain the command, but, according to the King’s advice, has demanded a Prussian General Stabschef [Chief of the Staff], which will be a great assistance to him.

At the sale of the Homburg things I bought a lovely miniature of dear Grandmama in a black velvet gown, with a red shawl over her shoulder--shortly after her marriage, I think.

DARMSTADT, October 3d.

Yesterday evening I returned from Wiesbaden, leaving Alix well, but having caught a bad cold myself. The children have equally heavy ones.

DARMSTADT, October 8th.

Many thanks for your letter just received, and for the review of dear Papa’s Life, which is excellent, and which I sent on to Aunt Feodore, as you desired. I have been laid up for a week with influenza, and am only about again since yesterday, though not out of the house. I am quite weak from it. The whole house is laid up with bad colds, and baby can’t shake her’s off at all. The cough is so tiring, and she whoops whenever she coughs. Poor Jäger, who is, alas! we fear, consumptive, broke a blood-vessel two days ago, and is dangerously ill, to the great grief of all in the house. He is our best servant, and so devoted; he never would take care of himself, as he could not bear letting any one but himself attend on Louis. We have just got a _Diakonissin_ [Deaconness] to nurse him; on account of his great weakness he can’t be left alone one instant.

Sir William, Lady, and Charlotte Knollys have been on a visit to us; also Lady Geraldine Somerset for two nights. They are all interested to see our house.

Uncle George has made me a present of one of the horses the Sultan sent him.

DARMSTADT, October 10th.

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.