Part 7

* * * We shall be delighted to receive you in Kranichstein, and if you will send your suite all to Darmstadt we shall be able to arrange, though we have not one spare room anywhere, and I feel you will be rather squeezed. How I look forward to meeting you again, after a year of separation, I can’t say; and I am so glad that it will be under our roof that our joyful embrace will take place. As Uncle Louis is to have the Garter, may not Affie bring it to him _without_ ceremony? He would like it so much better if it can be so.

On the 17th Louis goes to Oberhessen to shoot _capercailzies_, and he deposits me and the children at Lich on his way, where he will join us again for my birthday.

Anna was safely delivered of a little girl this morning, and is doing well.

April 15th.

* * * We have been very anxious about Anna[53] the last few days, for she has had fever since the 9th, and shivering still yesterday.

We have a great deal to do this morning, so I can write but shortly.

We have fine weather at length, and are out a great deal.

Yesterday we took the Sacrament at nine, and numbers of people with us. The service lasted till past eleven, with a pause between.

April 18th.

This is really a dreadfully sad death in our family, and will be a blow to my dear parents-in-law, which will weigh them down for many a day. They who lived so retired, and to whom the family life was all--Anna, the pet--“_das Prinzesschen_,” whom they gave up so unwillingly, and with whom they corresponded daily! It will be a blank in their existence, which I can’t bear to think of! Such tender loving parents! My poor Louis was dreadfully distressed, though he feared the worst all along since we knew that Anna had fever. He left with Grolmann, having passed a dreadful morning. All the old servants, tutors, friends, came crying to us. Since he is gone I have passed sad lonely hours; and poor old Amelung comes[54] and sits in my room, sobbing that she should ever have lived to see this day.

Yesterday morning I went to the Rosenhahe and picked flowers from Anna’s garden, and wound a large wreath, which I have sent to Louis to place on her coffin. The three brothers feel it dreadfully--the first rent in the family circle is always hard to bear, and she so young, so good, so happy! I hear the poor little baby is nice.

Yesterday night Anna was taken into the Schlosskirche [Palace Chapel] upon Louis’ arrival, after a journey of twenty-seven hours. I hope he won’t be ill after all this _Gemüthsbewegung_ [strain upon his feelings], and fatigue always upsets him and makes him sick, and he feels all so deeply and warmly. It is so shocking. I can think of nothing else; and I am very low and sad being so alone, and the warm weather makes one unwell.

The poor Cesarewitch has passed a tolerable night. I fear he is so reduced he can’t get through it. The Empress doats on this son, and he is so like her. The poor Emperor has left for Nice.

April 21st.

Oh, it is sad, very sad! Life indeed is but a short journey, on which we have our duty to do, and in which joy and sorrow alternately prevail. Anna was very good, very unselfish, and a true Christian, with her gentle, humble spirit, and as such she was loved and admired. What rare people my parents-in-law and their children are, I can’t tell you--such childlike faith, such pure unselfish love to each other; I really feel unworthy to belong to them, and they are dear to me beyond description. As I have shared their joys, so with all my heart do I share their sorrow, and fervently pray for them! You will understand this, darling Mama. From you I have inherited an ardent and sympathizing spirit, and feel the pain of those I love as though it were my own. To-morrow I have wished that there should be in the Palace Chapel a funeral service at the same time as the funeral at Schwerin, and all the people here seemed pleased at my wish. Bender, who taught her, confirmed her, and who married her not a year ago in that very church, will perform the service.

Poor Dagmar! what a journey for her, poor child! She begins her troubles early enough.

April 24th.

* * * Many thanks for your kind letter, and for all the kind wishes for my birthday. It will be sad and quiet; but I hope my beloved Louis will arrive to-night, and be with me again--such cause for joy and thankfulness. When I have _him_, all sorrow is turned into peace and happiness. Could I but know you still had darling Papa at your side, how light would my heart be! Once when we have all fulfilled our allotted duties, and overcome that dark night, then, please God, we shall be together, never again to part!

The sympathy of all does my sorrowing family good, for it soothes so much! I had a few lines so tender, so full of faith, from my dear mother-in-law to-day. Since Ella’s birth I know to understand and love her most dearly. She suffered dreadfully, but no complaint passes her lips. She consoles her husband, her son-in-law, and this, with prayer, enables her to bear that which has almost broken her heart.

April 25th.

* * * Dear Louis returned last night well, and bringing good accounts of his parents. They remain there still a little longer, to arrange Anna’s things. At Frankfort, at eleven last night, we met; it was so warm.

The poor Cesarewitch is gone! The Emperor and Empress are coming here in ten days; what sad meetings.

How warm it has been daily since a fortnight, I can’t tell you! We sit all day in the garden, take tea there, drawing-lessons, etc.

April 29th.

I thank you so much for your kind sympathizing letter. All my family are so grateful for all the kindness and sympathy you have shown them on this sad occasion.

To-day Uncle Louis arrives; on Monday the Emperor and Empress, and children. What a sad meeting! They go to Jugenheim direct, where last year they were so happy all together. I hear the Empress is worn out, mind and body; and she insists, instead of finishing her cure, on going in a fortnight to St. Petersburg to meet the remains of her child, and to do him the last honors. Louis fears that it will be more than her feeble frame can endure. In the Greek Church, too, the night Masses are long and exhausting, and she is sure to wish to do all.

We spent my birthday as every other day, and the weather was heavenly. I am painting in oil now, and that interests me much. I find it much easier than water-colors.

I hope Affie will come to pay his respects to the Russians. If you send them a kind message through him, it would please them much.

May 2d.

* * * How well I understand your compassion being alike for mourners in all positions of life. It is but right and natural, and I can’t imagine one’s feeling otherwise.

May 6th.

To-morrow morning my poor parents-in-law arrive. What a meeting, and what a return! My father-in-law and the Empress[55] are each other’s favorites, and understand each other so perfectly. It will be a consolation to both to pour their hearts out to each other, and share each other’s sorrow. My dear father-in-law wrote to Aunt Marie: “Although my heart is sorely depressed, yet it is even more filled with gratitude than with sorrow, that the dear God has given us two such dear children, though but for a brief space.” He is so touching in his grief.

May 8th.

I find my dear parents-in-law pretty well, but poor Mama so terribly tired. She was dreadfully overcome in coming home, and at the several meetings. He looks much older, as, indeed, does also the poor Emperor, who parted yesterday to go to St. Petersburg. Dear Aunt Marie seems very weak, and they both, together with my parents, make such a sad picture to look at. But they all like to speak of those they have lost. My parents-in-law and we go this week to Uncle Louis, to Seeheim for three weeks.

SEEHEIM, May 12th.

You can’t think what real pleasure your pretty locket gave my mother-in-law. She was deeply touched by the kind thought and the considerate attention of the gift--with what was engraved on it. She was so very much pleased with it, and put it on the moment she received it. The photograph is to be put in. To-day, Anna’s wedding-day, it arrived.

We have been here since yesterday afternoon--my parents-in-law and Uncle Louis. The suite are on leave of absence, so we are quite _en famille_.

Yesterday, Serge’s birthday, we went with Uncle and Aunt to the Greek Mass, which lasted more than an hour. We dine daily at the Heiligenberg. This morning also we were there with our parents and children; and Aunt Marie [the Empress of Russia] kept Ella half an hour on her lap, playing with her, which the little one enjoyed very much, as she is particularly sociable and amiable. Victoria romped with her cousins--Aunt Marie’s two, and Uncle Alexander’s four.

SEEHEIM, May 15th.

* * * To-day Michael and Cécile arrive, and on Tuesday the Emperor and Empress recommence their journey homeward. The return will be for both most trying. Aunt Marie spoke with me about her sons, their education, etc., very long last night. Her whole life she has studied and lived for Nike [the late Cesarewitch], that he might become that which was necessary for his future; and she was much more with him, and they were both much more intimate together, than she is with her other children. Affie came here on Saturday, and I am so glad to have him and hear some news of you. At this moment he and William are in the room shooting at a target out of the window, which makes no little noise.

May 20th.

* * * We mean to remain here in the Bergstrasse with our parents; is seems to console them; but my father-in-law makes me very anxious, and is so nervous. Poor Mama! so soft, so tired, so unlike herself, _cela fait pitié_.

On the fifth the Grand Duke is going to receive the Garter. You shall have an account of all.

Affie is here, and to-day dear Arthur comes for a few hours. I shall be so pleased to see him again.

SEEHEIM, May 21st.

* * * Yesterday the Emperor and Empress and children left. So sorry to see them go! God knows when we shall all meet here again. We have been so much together and so intimately, that I have grown very fond of them, and am very sad at the thought of the long and uncertain separation. Dear little Arthur was here, looking very well. The wooded hills here are so nice to ride about on, and the country is very beautiful.

May 31st.

I read serious books a great deal, and of a Sunday together we read out of Robertson’s sermons. In the second series there is one, “The Irreparable Past” for young people, so cheering, so encouraging, so useful. Louis read it to me on his return from Schwerin after poor Anna’s death. A short life indeed, and it makes one feel the uncertainty of life, and the necessity of labor, self-denial, charity, and all those virtues which we ought to strive after. Oh, that I may die, having done my work and not sinned with _Unterlassung des Guten_ [omission to do what is good], the fault into which it is easiest to fall.

Our life being so quiet gives one much time for earnest thought, and I own it is discouraging to find how much one fails--how small the step of improvement is.

I suffer still so much, and so often, from rheumatism. I am taking warm soda-baths in the morning for it, and am rubbed afterward with towels which have been dipped in cold water and then wrung out. It is not very pleasant.

June 4th.

* * * The weather is very beautiful, and we had tea yesterday at Schönberg, the castle of young Count Erbach, whom Louis presented to you at Windsor. Could you tell us for certain when you intend going to Coburg, and when we are expected there, as we are going to the sea to bathe for Victoria and myself, and we would arrange our time accordingly? I require some sea air after the great heat, and after baby’s weaning; also before Scotland it would be good, for I have so much rheumatism. Some sea water will strengthen me.

June 7th.

* * * You know how very Scotch we both are. Louis is devotedly attached to Scotland and his Scotch friends. Do tell them so always. But now I must tell you of yesterday. In the morning Affie, we, and our suite, drove into town for the investiture. At half past three I drove with my ladies, a Kammerherr [Chamberlain], Becker, etc., to the Schloss, where Uncle Louis received us in _shorts_! Then Affie and Louis in their whole Garter dress arrived in a carriage with six horses and an escort. Uncle Louis, before the throne, and the family, Court, corps diplomatique, etc., received them. Affie read in English the address, to which Uncle Louis answered in German; then Affie buckled on the Garter; then Louis helped him to put on ribbon, cloak, etc., and fastened the sword on him, which was no easy task; but they acquitted themselves to perfection, and went out through the long Kaisersaal backward, bowing.

There was a large dinner afterward, at which your health was proposed by Uncle Louis, and in return Affie gave his. You have made a happy man, and he feels the honor--as he said to me in English--“utmostly”; and he wishes me to repeat once more how grateful he is to you. * * *

Affie did not return here last night; he slept at Darmstadt, and left this morning for Amorbach. To-day Uncle Ernest is coming to us, but only for one night. As we have again to go into town to fetch him, and it is very warm, I must close.

SEEHEIM, June 15th.

* * * How it will amuse and please us to show the good excellent Scotchman our home. It is a pleasure to hear of such devotion and attention to you as Brown’s is, and indeed you are so kind to him, that his whole happiness must consist in serving so good a mistress.

I think you will be pleased to hear of a most kind and touching tribute which the Frauen [women] of Darmstadt have paid me. Two hundred and fifty have subscribed to have a splendid picture painted for me, by P. Weber, of Loch Katrine. I am to see it on Sunday. It is very much admired, and they sent the painter to Scotland to do it, thinking that something from my own country would please me most. Is it not kind of them? It has given me so much pleasure--but of all things the feeling which has prompted them to do it, as it shows me that, though I have been here so short a time, they have become attached to me, as I am with all my heart to my new home and country.

Now about myself. I have weaned Ella, last Saturday, and can say that my health has never been so good, nor have I been so strong or looked so fresh and healthy as I do now. When Uncle Ernest saw me he said I looked again as I did as a girl, only rather fatter.

Ella crawls now, and is very strong; she has her first two teeth. Victoria is very wild, and speaks more German than English. I think her rather small, but other people say she is not. She goes out walking with her Papa before breakfast quite alone, with her hands in her pockets, and amuses him very much.

June 19th.

Many thanks for your last letter from dear Balmoral. The parting from that lovely place must always be sad, and there is something in mountains which attaches one so much to that scenery.

Yesterday was a very trying day for my poor mother-in-law (her birth-day), and she was very low, but, as all along, so resigned, so touching in the beautiful way she bears her grief; so unselfish with it, never wishing to make others sad, or to be less interested in their concerns than formerly.

Dear Mary Cambridge has been here, and we enjoyed her visit so much. We took her back to Frankfort to-day, where we gave her and Aunt Cambridge a luncheon in Uncle Louis’ Palais.

June 21st.

It is warm, but very windy and dusty here; we were nearly blinded out riding yesterday evening. I am reading that most interesting History of England by Pauli, in German, which commences with the Congress of Vienna in 1815, and is, I believe, very detailed and correct. It gives a sketch also of the reign of George III., and is so well written one can scarcely lay the book down. It is part of a work written by the best German professors on England, Russia, Italy, France, Spain, and Austria in those years, and I am reading them one after another. They are thick books, and eight volumes.

KRANICHSTEIN, July 2d.

We both thank you for your kind wishes for our wedding-day. It was rainy and not fine, but we spent it very happily indoors--Affie and Mary with us. Dr. Weber now wishes (as we should have to go from Blankenberghe back to Coburg, and then again all the journey back), that I should not bathe at all this year, as all the good would be undone by the hurried journey, and the excitement of the sea air might not be good for Victoria. We are all to go instead for four weeks to Switzerland, beginning with Rigi Kaltbad, and this we greatly prefer. We go into the mountains at once for the bracing air. On Saturday until Tuesday we go to Baden for the christening of the baby. We both are god-parents.

KRANICHSTEIN, July 10th.

*** Ella already says, since some time, “Papa” and “Mama,” and calls herself, and crawls, and is very forward and merry--such a contrast to Victoria, who is so pale and fair, and _now_ thin, for Ella’s eyes are so dark blue, and her hair of such a rich brown, that you would never take the little things for sisters. They are very fond of each other, and so dear together, that they give us much pleasure. I would not change them for boys, if I could; this little pair of sisters is so nice, and they can be such friends to each other.

I hope you will be comfortable here, but we are much annoyed not to be able to be there to receive you. None of the family will be here, save perhaps my mother-in-law with poor Fritz Schwerin, who is expected then.

We mean to start on the 25th, and we go as private people, on account of the expense. We are only going to Oberland, and sha’n’t go very far about.

KRANICHSTEIN, July 17th.

*** It was 95° in the shade yesterday at eight in the morning, and I think the heat increases. Dr. Lyon Playfair lunched with us yesterday; he is so charming. To-morrow morning at five we go to Bonn for the day, and shall be there before ten. The heat is too great to go at any other time. We start next Tuesday evening, and on Wednesday shall be on the Rigi.

This morning at six o’clock we rode to the exercising--I on a new horse, for two hours and a half over sand without any shade.

Mary [Duchess of Teck] has been so kind as to give us a boat, which we expect shortly. It is to be christened “Mary Adelaide,” after her.

July 24th.

Many thanks for your letter, and for the sad account of Victoria Brant’s[56] death. It is quite shocking, and she was my dearest friend of those contemporaries, and the one I saw the most of. “In the midst of life we are in death”; and the uncertainty of all earthly things makes life a real earnest, and no dream. Our whole life should be a preparation and expectation for eternity. Merry as she was, she was yet very serious and thoughtful; but what a loss she will be to her poor parents and husband!

I have made all arrangements for your comfort here. I own I do not like your coming here when we and the whole family are away--it looks so _odd_! I forgot to tell you, in answer to your question about Ella’s name, that she of course must be called “Elizabeth,” _entre nous_ only “Ella,” for she bears my dear mama-in-law’s name.

RIGI KALTBAD, August 1st.

I am enchanted, delighted with this magnificent scenery. Oh, how you would admire it! When I am sketching, I keep telling Louis how much more like you would make the things; one can always recognize the places when you draw them.

We left Darmstadt at eight Wednesday morning, the 26th, slept at Basel that night, and we got there early enough to see the fine church in a thunder storm. The next day we only went to Lucerne, as the weather was not fine enough to ascend the Rigi. It was a lovely afternoon, and the lake of a marvellous green color. The Pilatus was quite clear for a few hours. The next morning we two, the children, Moffat, Harriet the nursery-maid, Logoz and wife, Jäger, and Beck, our whole party, started in a very crowded steamer for Wäggis. Splendid weather, though cloudy. We then, on horses and in chairs carried by three or six men, made our ascent along a winding, narrow, steep path, below rocks, past ravines, where little châlets are situated, and all over the green pasture cows and goats feeding with bells round their necks. Westerweller was here when we arrived; he acts courier, and when we make long expeditions remains with the children. This is a very roomy hotel, crammed full of people, among them some odd Austrian ladies whom we see below walking on the terrace--very smart, and smoking. We two have been on mules with a guide--such a funny man, who was a soldier at Naples, and was at the siege of Gaeta--on all the expeditions hereabout.

To-morrow we leave, and go till Monday to Buochs, on the other side of the lake; then to Engelberg, where Uncle Adalbert and his wife will be. The children are well; Victoria very troublesome, but Ella good and amiable as ever. As I am writing at the window, the clouds cover the lake and the lower mountains, and I can only see the quite high ones with glaciers, which are of such a splendid shape.

The color of the Scotch mountains is, I think, finer; but here they are, first of all, so enormously high, and then such fine shapes, and the mountains are studded with trees and rocks down below, and of a green color.

The air is very light and cold, but the sun intense. We are going off for the day again on our mules, so I must close. Of course many funny incidents take place, which I reserve to tell you when we meet.

I do hope the heat will be over for your journey, and that it will be fine when you are at our dear Kranichstein. Marie Grancy will be there to receive you, and do any thing which is required.

ENGELBERG, HOTEL TITLIS, August 8th.

These lines I send by Becker, and hope you will receive them at Kranichstein. * * * I hope you found all you wanted in the rooms, and that the meals were as you like them. I ordered all, and wrote all down before leaving, as I know what you like.

We were for some days at Buochs, a very pretty village; and we lived in three detachments in different common Swiss houses, very comfortable on the whole, but not smelling very nice, so that I could scarcely eat while we were there.