Part 18

My dear parents-in-law bear up well; but when we three get together we pour our hearts out to each other, and then tears which are full of anxiety will flow.

KRANICHSTEIN, September 2d.

I went early to Homburg, as no trains go regularly now. I went by road from Frankfort, and found dear Vicky well--her little baby very pretty and healthy-looking; the other dear children also well.

How much we had to tell each other! How much to be proud of, and how many friends and acquaintances to mourn over! The few hours we had together flew by in no time, and at Frankfort the train was unpunctual--outside Darmstadt it waited nearly an hour. At our palace, where I arrived at ten in the evening, people who were going to our _Haupquartier_ [headquarters], were waiting. I scribbled a few words to my dear Louis (the first since he received the Iron Cross, a great distinction) and packed a few things for him--tea, etc.

September 15th.

Though I am still forbidden to use my eyes, I must send you a few words of thanks for your dear letter and telegram. I had a violent inflammation of eyes and throat, with two days strong fever and neuralgia. I am recovering now, but feel the effects very much; my eyes are still bad, and it has reduced my strength, which I require so much. Dr. Weber has just lost his sister (whom he treated in her confinement) from puerperal fever, and he told me he thought he must have given it to her, from going to and fro to his wounded, for _Lazarethfieber_ [hospital fever] and that were so closely akin. You can fancy that in Louis’ absence, and with the prospect of being alone, without even a married experienced lady in the house, this prospect frightened me. It is unhealthy at any time to be for one’s confinement in a town full of hospitals with wounded, and Weber could never give me as much attention as at another time, and, should I be very ill, there is no authority to say any thing about what had best be done. On that account your telegram was a relief to me.

September 20th.

* * * Daily I hear the muffled drums of the funeral of some soldier or officer being taken past my windows to his last resting-place. How deeply I do feel for the poor parents and widows!

My children are very well, but have absolutely no place where they can walk with safety from infection, for the mass of sick troops who get out and stop near the _Exercirplatz_ [drill-ground], and the hospitals in town. The barrack at the foot of our garden contains 1,200 French prisoners, and many of them ill. It is much to be hoped that there will be soon an end to all these things. I feel for the Emperor and Empress very much. What ungrateful, vain, and untruthful people the French are! To expose Paris to a siege, now their armies are beaten, which they think through fine speeches and volunteers they can set right again.

September 22d.

I received your letter through Kanné yesterday, and thank you many times for it; also for the little shawls and sash for Ernie. Every souvenir from dear Balmoral is a pleasure.

Good Dr. Hofmeister will be very welcome, and I know he is very clever. Mrs. Clarke is sure to get on well with him, and an older doctor just now, besides being an acquaintance of so many years, is to me indeed a comfort. I shall be able also to hear of all at home, and of so many things that interest me. Thousand thanks from Louis and from myself for your sending him. * * *

ALL long for peace--the army and the nation--and I think so great a national war as this need not require part of the foes’ territory. What little is necessary for the military frontier they must take; but the union of Germany under one head is a far greater and finer end to such a war than the annexation of land!

* * * War is the greatest scourge this world knows, and that we may not live to see it again, is my earnest prayer.

October 1st.

* * * The children are all well, in spite of the bad air here. I send them out driving of an afternoon, when I can best, having only one coachman, as ours are with Louis. At present they can’t manage it often. * * *

October 3d.

* * * Dr. Hofmeister is to both of us a source of real confidence and comfort. I don’t think any one else would have been more welcome to me just now, and he can write daily to Louis, and letters go usually in two days now.

I go as little as possible to the hospital now, and, indeed, do nothing imprudent, you can be sure. * * *

November 12th.

* * * The nerves of my forehead and eyes are still painful; and from all sides I am again called upon to look after, settle, and advise concerning many things. On that account Dr. Weber and my mother-in-law insist on my leaving Darmstadt for a total change of scene, etc., for three weeks. I have resisted as long as I could, as I so much dislike going from home now (though I do not feel up to the work, and yet cannot keep from doing it), but I have finally given in, and accepted Vicky’s kind invitation to accompany her for three weeks to Berlin. The journey is long and cold, but her company when we are both alone is a pleasure to me, and I shall hear all news as directly there as here.

* * * Last night I was much overcome. I had been sitting at the bedside of one of my poor young friends, and he was gasping in a too-distressing way. The father held his hand, the tears streaming down his cheek, the son was trying to say “_Weine nicht, Papa_” [“Don’t weep, Papa!”]. The poor old father, so proud of his good and handsome child, is heart-broken, and they are touchingly united and full of feeling for each other. I would give any thing to save his life; but all efforts will, I fear, be in vain. Though I have seen so many lately die hard deaths, and heard and seen the grief of many heart-broken widows and mothers, it makes my heart bleed anew in each fresh case, and curse the wickedness of war again and again.

Poor baby can’t be christened yet, as my parents-in-law think Louis would not like it during his absence, so I shall wait. * * *

November 17th.

* * * How I rejoice to hear that Leopold gains so much strength, and that he can be about again as usual. Will you kindly tell him in Louis’ name and mine (as I am still restricted in all writing and reading) that we beg him to stand godfather to our little son?[99] Baby is so nice and fat now, and thrives very well. I think you would admire him, his features are so pretty, and he is so pink, and looks so wide-awake and intelligent. Ernie, who in general is a rough boy, is most tender and gentle to his little brother, and not jealous. * * *

BERLIN, December 5th.

* * * Yesterday Fieldmarshal Wrangel came to see me, and his words were, “_Zu gratuliren dass Ihr Mann ein Held ist, und sich so superb geschlagen hat_” [“Accept my congratulations that your husband is a hero, and has fought so magnificently”]. I am very proud of all this, but I am too much a woman not to long above all things to have him safe home again.

* * * The evenings Vicky and I spend alone together, talking, or writing our letters. There is so much to speak of and think about, of the present and the future, that it is to me a great comfort to be with dear Vicky. It is nearly five months since Louis left, and we lead such single existences that a sister is inexpressibly dear when all closer intercourse is so wanting! There is so much, beloved Mama, I should like to speak to you about. * * *

The girls are quite well, and very happy with their grandparents. The governess--who in the end did not suit for the children--as the six months’ trial is over, will not remain, and I am looking for another one.

DARMSTADT, December 18th.

* * * The children and I bore the journey well, and it was not cold. Parting from dear Vicky was a hard moment, and I shall feel the loneliness here so much, and miss my dear good Louis more than ever. The children are, of course, at such a time the greatest blessing. There is so much to do for them, and to look after for them; and mine are dear good children, and do not give over-much trouble.

Letters I have again received speak of the amount of danger Louis has again been daily exposed to, and how his personal courage and daring have given the victory in many a fight. God protect him! I live in fear and trembling for his precious life, and after I hear of his being safe through one battle, I take it as a fresh present from the Almighty, and breathe freer again, though the fear soon enough gets the upper hand again.

I have asked Uncle Louis to allow his _Berichte_ [reports] to be copied for you. Louis has Köhler and another footman with him, that is all--and two coachmen. He rides in all battles the horse you gave him in 1866, which he rode during that campaign, and which is quite invaluable. It would interest Colonel Maude to know this, as he bought the horse. My nursery is in very good order, and they are all invaluable in their way.

How is good Dr. Hoffmeister’s family? Please say many kind things to him from me, and tell him that the baby is getting so nice and fat, and is so healthy in spite of all troubles. Here is a photograph of him, but not at all flattered. Please give Dr. Hofmeister one of them!

I have this instant received a letter from Louis dated the 11th! I will have an extract made for you, I think it might interest Bertie to hear something of Louis, whom he can be proud to have as a brother-in-law, for I hear his praises continually. He has been throughout the war, as every other General has been, without a carriage, etc., like other Princes, and has gained the respect and devotion of his troops.

DARMSTADT, December 19th.

* * * I hope for this last time, if we are spared and live to come over together once more, we may have the joy of showing their dear Grandmama the whole little band. Of course, no thoughts of plans can be entertained, and I know, after so very long a separation, Louis would not be willing again to part from his children.

My wounded were so pleased to see me again yesterday. Alas! many in bed, and so ill still! My two in the house are much better, and the one who during six weeks lay at death’s door is recovering. I have seldom experienced so great a satisfaction as seeing this young man recover, and the doctors say I have been the means of saving his life.

The joy of the old parents will be very great. Since I left, there are new widows, and fresh parents bereft of only children; it is a most painful duty to go to them. But I know the comfort of sympathy is the only one in deep grief.

December 23d.

My warmest and tenderest thanks for your dear and loving letter, with so many expressions of a mother’s love and sympathy, which do my heart good, now that I feel so lonely and anxious. It seems too great a happiness to think of, that of our being allowed to come with our children to you, and to Scotland; and you know the smallest corner is enough for us, who are by no means particular--neither are our people. If I write this to Louis, it will be something for him to look forward to, to cheer him and reward him after so hard a time, which he bears so bravely and uncomplainingly. This morning I have been at the Alice Hospital, which is prospering. I have been taking my gifts for Christmas to one hospital after another. Your two capes have delighted the poor sufferers, and the one wounded for the second time is very bad, alas! My wounded officer in the house is recovering, next to a miracle. For the two wounded in the house, the children, our household, and the children of our servants at the war, I arrange Christmas-trees.

We grown-up ones of the family have given up keeping Christmas for ourselves. We have too much to do for others, and my parents-in-law, like me, feel the absence of the dear ones who are always here for Christmas.

I am superintending Victoria and Ella’s letters to you, which have not achieved the perfection wished for. As they are to be quite their own, I hope you will excuse their arriving a little later.

DARMSTADT, December 27th.

* * * Louis telegraphed on Christmas day from Orleans, where I had sent Christa’s brother with a box of eatables and woollen things for his people, and a tiny Christmas-tree with little lights for the whole party. Louis has sent me a photograph of himself and staff done at Orleans, and I have sent for a copy for you, as it is very good. On Christmas day it was five months since Louis and the troops left. The charming stockings you sent, I have sent off in part to-day to Louis to give to his _Stabswache_ [Staff-guard]; the other things I divide among the wounded and sick.

My children are all well. The little one sits up, and, though not very fat, is round and firm, with rosy cheeks and the brightest eyes possible. He is very healthy and strong, and in fact the prettiest of all my babies. The three girls are so grown, particularly the two eldest, you would scarcely know them. They are both very tall for their age. Victoria is the height of Vicky’s Charlotte, and Ella not much less. They are thin, and a change of air would be very beneficial.

1871.

The christening of the little Prince took place quietly on the 11th of February, the child receiving the names of Frederick William. The sponsors were the Empress of Germany, the Crown Princess, Crown Prince, Prince Frederick Charles of Prussia, and Princess Alice’s own brother, Prince Leopold. The ceremony took place in the absence of Prince Louis, who had been unable to get leave, although an armistice had been concluded on the 28th of January, which it was hoped would be the forerunner of peace.

On the 18th of March the King of Prussia, who had meanwhile become Emperor of Germany, made his entry into Frankfort-on-the-Main, together with his son and his whole staff. The Grand Duke of Hesse and the members of his family received him there.

Prince Louis at last obtained ten days’ leave of absence, and arrived at Darmstadt on the 21st of March. The parents of the Prince had gone to meet him and his brother William a few stations beyond Darmstadt, whilst the Princess Alice awaited her husband at the Darmstadt railway station. The joy and thankfulness of that meeting can well be imagined. Darmstadt was gaily decorated in honor of the Prince’s return; and he met with an enthusiastic reception.

Prince and Princess Louis were present at Berlin on the 16th of June at the triumphal entry of the German troops on the conclusion of the peace. On the 21st of June the Prince entered Darmstadt at the head of his Hessian division. In spite of pouring rain, the town presented a most festive appearance. Later on the Prince and Princess and their children went to Seeheim (near Darmstadt), where her brother, Prince Alfred, visited them on his return from his three years’ voyage round the world. The Prince and Princess of Wales also paid their sister a visit; and Prince and Princess Louis saw much of their Russian relations, who were then staying at Jugenheim.

In August, the family went to the seaside at Blankenberghe, where they spent three weeks, and afterward went to London. They arrived at Balmoral on the 13th of September, on a visit to the Queen, whom they found suffering severely. They stayed with her till the 1st of November, but the children, who had caught the whooping cough, were sent to London sooner. Whilst at Sandringham, to which the Prince and Princess went on their way back from Balmoral, in the middle of November, the Prince of Wales was taken ill. Prince Louis had to return to Darmstadt, but the Princess remained in England, and shared the anxieties of the very dangerous and protracted illness of her brother, whom she helped to nurse. It was the same terrible fever (typhoid) which, ten years before, had ended the life of the beloved Prince Consort, and it was so severe that the worst was feared. Prince Louis returned to England on the very day when the danger was greatest, but he also was able to share in the joy and thankfulness when improvement set in upon the 14th of December. He remained over Christmas, and returned to Darmstadt before the year was at an end.

DARMSTADT, January 7th.

* * * In England people are, I fear, becoming unjust toward the German troops. Such a long and bloody war must demoralize the best army; and I only say, in such a position how would the French have behaved? Many French officers say the same, and how greatly they respect the German soldier. Hundreds of French officers and two generals have broken their word of honor, and run away. I doubt, whether _one_ in the German army would do such a thing. The French peasants, often women, murder our soldiers in their beds, and the wounded they have used too horribly many a time. Is it a wonder, then, when the men let a feeling of revenge lay hold of them? A guerilla war is always horrid, and no words can say how all Germans feel and deplore the present phase of the war! I hope and trust that the end may not be far distant.

One of the poor wounded soldiers whom I gave your cape to is dying, and the poor boy won’t part from it for an instant, and holds it tight round himself.

Louis continues at Orleans, where they have entrenched themselves, and await with impatience news from Paris which must be of great influence for the continuation or ending of the war.

My days fly past. The children take much of my time--so, too, the house, my two wounded in the house, and the hospitals, to one of which I go daily.

DARMSTADT, January 14th.

* * * How kind of you to work something for Louis; he will wear it with such pleasure. Prince Frederick Carl’s recent victories[100] and the fresh hosts of prisoners must help to bring the war to an end. Germany does not wish to go on, but the French won’t see that they are beaten, and they will have to accept the visitors, who must increase in numbers the longer the French refuse to accede to the German demands.

I am so low, so deeply grieved for the misery entailed on both sides, and feel for the French so much. Our troops do not pillage in the way described in English papers. I have read far worse accounts of what the French soldiers and _francs-tireurs_ do in their French villages.

The poor soldier who had your cape is dead. He died with it round him. I was with him in the afternoon, and he had tears in his eyes, and was very low. In the night he died. This morning I was at the station to give things to the wounded and sick who came through--a sorry sight. This afternoon I am going to a poor soldier’s widow who has just had twins. The distress on all sides is great. I help where I can. Becker tears his hair. The two wounded in the house cost so much. So does every thing else; but as long as I can, through sparing on myself, help others, I must do it--though I have, as things now are, nothing left.

I will get a head of Ernest done for your bracelet, and another one, so that you may have something else of him. He is a magnificent boy, but so huge--such limbs! The baby is not at all small, but near Ernest all the others look small.

He can’t speak properly yet, but he understands every thing, and has a wonderful ear for music. He sings the “_Guten Kameraden_” without a fault in the time, and is passionately fond of dancing, which he also does in time.

Irène is growing fast also, but the two eldest are quite big girls; it makes me feel old when I see them growing up to me so fast. Victoria has a very enquiring mind, and is studious, and learns easily and well. Since the middle of December I have been without a governess.

To-morrow I go to Mayence to see poor Woldemar[101] Holstein’s sister. He is very bad, to the grief of all Mayence, and of all who know him.

DARMSTADT, January 16th.

* * * It is pouring and thawing--most dismal--and my thoughts are with our dear ones and our poor troops far away. Becker lost his brother-in-law, who leaves a wife (Matilda, Becker’s sister) and four little children. Each day fresh losses.

My little baby ought to be christened, but Louis and my parents-in-law always hope that the end of hostilities is near, and that Louis can then get leave. Baby’s blue eyes are beginning to turn, and look almost as if they would be brown. Should dear Grandmama’s and Grandpapa’s eyes come up again amongst some of the grandchildren, how nice it would be!

I have but little news to give. I go about to the poor soldiers’ widows and wives--no end of them, with new-born babies, in the greatest distress.

Yesterday I saw the mother of the poor young soldier who died. She keeps your cape as a precious relic, as it had given him such great pleasure.

January 30th.

Your charming photograph and kind letter arrived this morning--thousand thanks for both! How like the photograph, and how pleasing! I am so glad to have it.

The armistice and capitulation of Paris are great events. The people are out of their minds with joy--flags all over the town, and the streets crowded.

I forgot to say in my last letter how grieved I was about Beaty Durham’s[102] death. It is quite shocking! and those numbers of children in so short a time. I earnestly hope none of us run such a chance, for on the whole our children have not been so close together. My last came sooner than I wished, and is smaller than his brother, but I hope now for a long rest. I have baby fed, besides, so as not to try my strength. He is very healthy and strong, and is more like Victoria and my brothers and sisters than my other children, and his eyes remind me of Uncle Ernest’s, and seem turning brown, which would be very pretty, as he is very fair otherwise.

Your pretty photograph is standing before me, and makes me quite absent. I catch myself continually staring at it, instead of writing my letters.

DARMSTADT, February 2d.

* * * All the many French here are pleased at the capitulation of Paris, and hope that peace is certain. Louis writes to me that the inhabitants of Orleans were equally pleased, and consider the war over. I earnestly pray it may be so. How greatly relieved and thankful all Germany would be!

Louis telegraphed to-day. He has no leave as yet, though he hopes for it. Now that there is a prospect of peace, and that the fighting is momentarily over, I feel quite a collapse of my nerves, after the strain that has been on them for six whole months. I can scarcely imagine what it will be when my beloved Louis is at home again; it seems _too great_ a joy! Rest and quiet together are what I long for; and I fear in the first weeks he will have so much to do, and there will be much going on.