A DAUGHTER OF THE QUEEN

Evening Star, Issue 6514, 2 February 1884, Page 1 (Supplement)

A DAUGHTER OF THE QUEEN

We make the following extract? f ■ om the 'Age's' review of the late I'n'ncess Alice's book, " Recollections of her Life, with Selections from her Letters." The reviewer deals with the latter part of the bio. raphy, in which the most interesting portions of the correspondence appenr, Tiio tirst letter is : :>, S 1 I wait quito ta*uii ;'.')k'.k when .:. i\ci:v\d Bertie's telegram in which he announced to U3 the birth of bin h' tie son. May my ft ear p-ipa'a blessing rest on the little one ; in y he turn < ufc juit as dear pap*, and be a comfort- a«-.d pii.le to joa and his young p irents. You- first Engluh prandchlld ! Dear mamma, mv h*art nso fu'l. I hope AUx (<he Princess of Wales) and baby *ire well. Here is a letter about the " Heidenrcieh Foundation":— , r , . March 5. I must toll you something which I did the other day, but please toll nobody of It, for hero nobody, except Louis and my bdies in waiting, knows of it. I am the protectress of the " Heidenreich Foundation." to which you made a handsome present when it was formed. The ladies who aie members take linen to poor, resectable womrn in childbirth who chum their a»«i tanoa, and they biing them food, too -in short, they give ttiem relief. Every rase _is reported to me Tome d»y* ?go I went- nuypnila with Christ,* to a poor woman of this -mid in the old town, and what a trouble we hau .0 hod the homo. At last wo went through a little, dirty court, uo a dark ladder into a small room, where tho pior woman and her baby wire lying in bed ; thwro were four other children in tiie came room, the husband, two other beds, and a fctove. There was no bad smell in the room. and it wai not dirty. I Font Chrlsta downstairs with the children ; then I cooked something for the woman with her hu-bind's hup, arranged her bed a little, took the baby from her, bulled its eyes, which were very sore -poor little thing —and put everything in order. I went there twice. The people did not know me, and tboy 'were so nice, good ualured, and touchin-ly attached to one another, it did one good to find such feeling in the midst of snch poverty. The man had no work ; tho children were still too \oung to go to school; and at her cr.ifinement she had only four kreuzers in the house. Imagine this misfry and affliction. If one never see-) any kind of poverty, and always lives amongst courtiers alone, the feelings of the heart fall into the background, and I felt the necessity of doins the little good which lay in my power. lam convinced you will understand me. The following letter refers to the Duchess of Kent's death : llth March. My own dear, dear Mamma,—These words are intended for the 16th of this month. It was tho first severe trial in our life when you allowed me to bo with you. Do you remember when all was over, and dear papa led you to the sofa in the colonnade, and br<-right me to you '! I took this as a tacred charge from him to love, value, and comfort my dear mother to <he utmost of my weak powers I can no longer be always with you, but nothing has diminished my deep love for r.ou and my lon s ir.g to soften every pain that affecti you, and, evenwhen far away from you. to i-ct according to this charge. O, my dear mamma, if I could only find words to express to you how attached I feel to you, how constantly my thoughts and prayer? belong to you. The mutual sympathy of our hearts alone cau tell one another how tender my love ond gratitude towards you are and how keenly I feel with you and for you every new trial and every new experience. , . . From another letter, of the 29th of September, I quote the following passage : 20th September. . , , "What you say about my poor sisters, and especially about the younger ones is true. The little br »thers and Beatrice are those who have lost mo it, poor things 1 I eannc: bear to think of it, for dear papa wai much more necei Bary for his children than any other fatter, and he wa3 their dear friend, even their playmate. Such a lons like ours is really without a parallel. Time only increases Its greatness, and one feels the gap more keenly. . . . In such passages as this referring to the uniqueness of the lots is the only sign to bo found of the inevitable effect of lifelong royal distinction upou a simple character. The Princess insists—as indeed the Queen has so often insisted—that the Prince Consort's death wa3 a misfortune unparalleled in kind. What all mourners feel and yet know to be a delusion a queen and a princess feel and take quite literally. But such a little slip of judgment or feeling—such a small egotism—is not to be judged harshly. Rare and beautiful must be the character which took none but this trifling stain from a training amid the innumerable indulgences of royalty. And the Princess was otherwise wholly unspoiled. Over her mother's health she kept watch from afar with unabated tenderness. . , . We are both veiy pleased at the arrangement with Brown and your pony, and I think It very sensible. lam certain {■■ will do you good, and besides having a Rood effect on your nerve 3 it wi'l make the monotony of you • life in the open air more bearable. I havo long wished you should ride a littlo, for driving only 1s really not good for the health. . . . The last letter of this year affords a pleasant glimpse into the happy life of the whole family:— 15th December. I had no moment to myself yesterday towiite to you and to thank you for the kind line? which you sent me by dear Dr M'Leod. "We had a beautiful service ; tho sermon gave a sketch of the noble, grand, and good character of dear papa, with beautiful allusions to you in his prayer, In which we nil prayed most fervently for you, dear mamma. "We talked for a long time afterwards abou; dear papa and you, and, although separated, we were near you In thought and prayer. Dear Vicky spoke so lovingly and fondly of you. and told me she sometime.-, had home sickcess. On that dreadful day, three years rgo, she was not with cs. and that pains her so much. Little Affie (tho Puke of Edinburgh) was, like us all, very much touched by all that Dr M'Leod naid. (Vicky, Affie, Louiso, and I Fat in. the little dining room. There he r.-ad aloud to us. Fritz had left early In the morning). We spent | the day in quiet and peaco with one another, and I was verv thankful that dear Vicky and Affie were w'ith us on that day. My dear Louis asks me to express to you with what fovd sympathy he thought of you on this sad anniversary. We could never leavo off talking of my home, and of all your giief. God bless and preserve you, my own dear mamma ! The next letters belong to ISGS. Ist January. ... A thousand thanks for your kind wordi and for your good wishes. I was thinking bo much of you and home when your letter carno —lt made mo so happy. Darling mother, I feel so much with you and for you in these days, The whole day I was almost cryirg. for the word New Year brought papa and grandmamma and all at Windsor so viv.dly before my eyes, it made my heart ache. This gay, happy past especially the latter years when I was tho «i ! p *" t Inine ani had the privilege of being so much with you both, are a reminiscence deeply eng'aven in golden letters in my heart. The whole morning I told Louis how it used to be at home, and how wo all used to assemble in front of your dressingroom in order to call out «n ohoiu J'roslt Ncujahr ! and to glvo you and papa our drawings and essays, the busy work of the previous weeks. Then playing to you on the p'ano and reciting our poems, when we often broke down, and papa bit; his lips to ketp Ltmsclf from laughing. Our walk to the ridiu b --scho'/l (where presents were distributed to the poor), and then to Frogmore, those were happy days, ond even the remembrance of them must be a sunbeam to you. lam so thankful that I remained at home and "lost none of those happy days. 14th Januaiy. A thousand thanks for your dear letter, for the pretty enclosure from Dr M'Leod, and for Dean Stanley's beautiful sermon. One remark struck me as specially applicable to near papa, where he soys: "Dying is gain. Kot to be any longer tormented by the sight of evil, which one ennnot prevail over," elc ; for d(a? papa mffred when Lo saw others doing wrong-it pained this good puro mi.'.d ; aid although wo long for him and nerd him, I brimve that even if wo could call him 1 ack. twn you who record him so much, would kcoitaio to give expression to the wish wh'cb would summon him Iv.ck. . When trias come, whut alone, excepo faith and hope in a happy future, can support Ui ? 1 20 ih JMmv.ry. The more or.o strives and attempts to'form'a conc-puon of those wo.i-h-.rful laws which govern the world, <hu mere «:.o admires and reveres rhat which is so mcomp^hensibK and I always wonder how discontent*: ami .11-luimori-d i.i"»le can exit in thia bf-autUul world, which n f;-r too g.-od for our dctorLfl, and whero wn, aftnr havirg performed our duly, hope to bo i.lways with tho.=;o whom w.) love, wh're joy will'br; so imeat and Lst'i.g that thai pre tent ca'e.ar-d rdllic ion. will melt t,w,iy In the presence <A that sun: h;;.e. In a letter of the '2;>>:d January the (Iraiid Duchess Alice writes about her visi*. fo her sister in Berlin, whofje lot was pin- ed in a far more important court: "You can imagine that it is with a certain sci'.u? of timidity that I &<j to Berlin, into a com-

pletely new circle ; I have been so little m society since 1861." Her impressions sne gives in the following letter : ... The journey passed off very well, and wo arc very ghd '0 b.; hero. • Vicky and j Friiz are kindness Use-]', and Vicky is so'good | and lovbj". I feel that it does me good ; tiiau a 1 trait of theg.oatm'nd of her father ia n» h-r. j He w.v< so fond and proud of her The kmg is, as usud, very kind, and very glad •(, s..e us j here. Louis is very happy as *«" n >> T h!s "■* \ c-nvadvs. and they the s-tme | 1 so 1 ~ t; -I-',-! Hi.-*: "jii.- ou. l :' v ■:■■:-' ''. ' "'■■ ' lr '' ' : ,„, 'f.-. ,-i- -,; ■ i.'nl, ;:■ v. ,'h ~..■- .- t: d our life mu-c sometimes be very tedious for a • young man of active mind like him, [ Further referring to the Kith of Feb- j ruary : February 4. This is very comfortable- and. Vicky in surrounded by pictures of yourself and papa on J all her tables, and be i les nunurouß souvenirs ; of our childhood, It made me quite melancholy J to see all the thirgs which I had mt seen for J seven jears and tinco we had lived together as children, fouvenirs of Christmas—of birthdays from bath of you, from dear grandmamma, Aunt Gloucester, ttc. It asvakf ned a thousand old recollections of happy bygone days. . . , How much am I thinking of you now, tho happy si'ver wedding that would have been, when you might have been surrounded by so many of us ! Poor mamma, I feel for you so j much. 1 May I long, if not for ever, be srared turn a j dreadful affliction. ! Moniirg, noon, and evening I thank the 1 Almighty for cur happiness, and pray that it j may last. Those lines are intended for the 16th, although th<y wili rench you the evening before, and they | are to tell you from. Lou's and me how fondly j we shall think of you and d? ar papa on that ; day. lam afraid it will he a day of severe trial j for you; may the Almighty give you strength , and courage to baar it. lam sure my dear j brothers and sisters will endeavor—each in his ' ownfpecial kind way—to cheer you uo, abovo all, little Beatrice—tho young st of all of us. About the intended visit of Queen Victoria to Kranschstcin the Princess writes : Sch April. . . . We shall be delighted to see you ia Kranschsttin, and if you send your whole suite to Darmstadt we shall be able to arrange it although we have no superfluous room anywhere, and I am afraid it will bo rather cramped for you. I cannot tell you how lam lookli"» forward to meeting you agiin after a Reparation of a year, and I am 1.0 glad that our happy embrace will take place under our roof. As Uncle Louis is to receive tee Order of the Garter, might, not Affie bring it to him ? He would much rather receive it without ceremony, ; provided this is possible. | The following letters refer to the (loath of I her sister-in-law, the Grand Duchess Anna of Mecklenburg : 18.h April. J This is, indeed, a dreadfully sudden death in [ our family, and a blow for my parenta-in-law, ! which will oppren them foe a long time—for j them who lived so retired a life, and to whom i tho family was all in all, Anna, the favorite, J the little Pr'ncess, whom thty gave away so ic- j luctantly, and with whom they coiresponded j daily. There will he a gap in thoir existence, j which is unbearable to thick of —inch tenderly 1 loving parents ! My poor Louis was dreadfully j shocked, although ho fea:ed tho worst the j whole time from the moment wo heard Anna j h„d f;:ver. Ho left with Grobnan, after passing j a fearful morning; all the old servants, gover- j nors. and friends came to us in tears. Since he I has been away I have parsed gloomy, lonesome j hours; and poor old iimelun? (nurse of tho j Princo and his brothers and has come, j and is sitting fobbing in r..y room at the j thought she has been forced to livo to see- this < day. Yesterday morning I went to the Rosenhohe, i gathered some flowers in Anna's garden, and 1 arranged a large wreath which I sent to Louio j to bo laid on her coffin. The three brothers j feel it dreadfully. The first 1033 in a family | circle is always hard to bear, and she was so j so good, Etxid bappy. 1 liear tl\at th.e ( little baby is nice. 21st April. Oh ! it is sad, veiy sad - life ia really only a < journey on which we miut do our duty, and on I which joy and grief iulo by turns Anna was ' very good, very unselfish, and a true j with her gentle, humble mind, and as such the i was loV'-d and admired. I cannot tell you what ■ rare people my parents-in-law and their children j are. Such childl'ke faith, such unselfuh love | to one another. I feel myself unworthy of j belonging to them, and they are dear to me beyond description. At I have shared their | joys I will ako share their (sorrows with all my ! heart, and fervently pray for them. You will j uuderstuid this, dear mamma.' I have inherited ' from you an active and sympathising heait, and I feel the of these I love ai if they were j my own. I have expief.std a wish that to- j morrow, aj the same time that the funeral Is taking place in Schwerin, a funeral service ; should be held In the C-istie Chur -b, and every- | body seems to agree with my w sh. Bender, j who inaUuctcl Anna, confirmed her, and; marrh d her in this very church not a year ago, j will conduct the service. Poor Da&mar ! What a journey for the poor child. Her sorrows"are beginning early enough. i This refers to the summoning of the pre- j sent Czarina to Nice, -where her first betrothed, the Czarewitch of those dayn, lay : dying of consumption. The Princess of "Wales's sister had been trained with a view j to marriage with the heir of the Emperor of j Russia ; even her religion having been so I skilfully taught her as to allow for the expected "call" to the orthodox church. She wa3 said, however, to be sincerely attached to the gentle and sickly Prince who died, which did not prevent her epeedy betrothal to his brother. The Czarewitch was dead. Long live the Czarewitch ! Like the Vicar of Bray, "whoever happened to be the Czarewitch the Princess Dagmar was to be the. Czarina." Another death followed : 24th Aprl 1 . . . . Many thank;! for your dear letter, and for your kind, congratulations en my biithday, I; will piss sorrowfully and quictiy ; but I hope darling Lou'n will be with me again thin evening—such cause for joy and gratitude; when I have him, all rny caion tarn into peace and happiiu-si. If I could only think you still had darling papa by your ride, how light my heart would bo ! Some day, when we have a?', fulfilled the duties that we have been charged with, and 'hat dark night ia surmounted, then, If it please God, we shall bo united never to part again. The r-ympathy of all does my afllicted family good, for it soothes so much. To-day I received a few lines from my dear mother-in-law—lo tender, so full of faith. Since Ella's birth I can unrlerttand her, and lovo her deeply Shu suffered frightfully, but no complaint passed her lips. She comforts her husband. h°r son-in law, and this, ai well as prayer, makes her ablo to bear what has almost broken her heart 2nd May. . . . How well I understand your sympathy, which Is the fame for sufferers in all btatlons of life. It is the only right and natural feeling, and I cannot conceive how one can feel otherwise. The following refers to the decease of the King of the Belgians : llth December. Thousand thanks for your letter. Dear Uncle Leopold is no more. How much is buried with him—for you, for us, for all. One more bond from those dear old times is severed. I feel so deeply for you, for dear uncle was really a father to you Now you are the head of tho family it seems inerediblo, and that dear papa should not be at your side. The s} mpathy for de--.r Uncle Leopold is so general, lie stood so high in tho eyes of all parties. Hist life was a history in itself, and now this bo'k is cloned. Oh ! it hj so ead. I am almost glad that this grief has happened during these days, which are already sanctified by sad, but yet dear memories. How well I remember every hour, every minute of those days. When one thinks of it, one feels again the hope, tho anxiety, and at last tho despair and grief at this irretrievable loss. The Almighty wan at our side, and gave us strength to bear it, for I am always surprised that wo turvived that fearful time. ihe next world seems so like a real home, for so many of our dear ones will meet there. There is something peculiarly sad in the death of tho last of a l.'-.rgc family ; one feels that no further interchange of conversation about their former life is possible, about which the younger ones could only iearn from their mouths. The next letters are dated 180(5. Kith March. How painful the visit in the camp at AblerBhot must, have been to you; but it was wise and kind of you to go there I cannot thinK ot it without, tears coining into rny eyes. Formerly that was one of the greatest pleaburea of my girlhood, and you and dear papa looked so nice together. It was such a pleasure to me to r.co'ompany you on such occasions Such moments I should like to recall foi' a minute. Our house here ia quite empty, and the move onuses so much work. To-morrow wo sleep for the first time in the new house. 17. hj March. .1 am writing from our dear little old house. May dear p-pa's and your blessing rest over our new houe. I am sure of It. It it fuU of souvenirs «-f botii ot you; all your plctuies, photographs of doar brothers and sisters, and of home. It reminds me a litt'.o of Osbo'im a>-d Buckingham Palace—oven a Utile of Balmoral,

If I could only show it to dear p pa. If indeed, I havo any taste at all, I owe it to him alone, and I Larnt eo much when I him hanglrg up pictures and arranging rcortp. This evening, at 7 3D, we go into our new louse. Bender mil offer up prayers and give a blursiog when we. wi'.h our whole household, as emb.'c b -fore the hou-o. Besides its, only Loui-.'s parenti :snd Wiliiam, I h-.g that your aud p:ipa's bl> .sdi-g may on us. March. 20. This (l-.ho de.'dh of the Duchess of TOrd) was *.' ehi giv ldng of ;dl our g»ii f Lu- d ■.-•:■• ;.'.■ :'n! --i t",:d">'"i";--. symi-a'hy, ami .:< I c.icy of ft- ling for you-how t-.,s\ i-, wa-i to hear it in coniparhon with all that ft bowed. . . . We :ui! very comfortably settled hero, and I cuuiotatall imagine that I am iu Germany, ai the house and all the fitt' 33s are so English. \S hen may we hope to have you here ? Naturally, tint i* the end of our wishes, and 3 our rooms lio towards the east, and are very cod, as you always go abroad when it is hot, and suffer so much from heat. I shall die from the heat this year, for my rooms He towards the we.t That year, 1860, was to grow dark, as the spring wore on, with a menace which finally burst in tho short but terrible war culminating in tho battle of Sadowa. The position of Hesse was delicate, and the Princess's letters show a keen understanding of politics, but they wander from that intimate character which gives them their special value. In 180S she visited that most brilliant of International Exhibitions which marked the highest point of the glory of the Second Empire. In 1870 that Empire fell. And the murderous war which wrought its fall gave to the ardent and sympathetic Princess work to do among the wounded who came pouring back into Germany from the fields of France. With all her tenderness she was a calm woman, capable of organising and of administering; and the good she did was large. Soon to her own home came the disease and death which she had striven valiantly to keep from the doors of others. In 1873 her youngest boy died, and from this blow she never wholly recovered. The Princess loved her children passionately, devoting to the benefit of their education all those accomplishments in which she had gained a certain distinction—her painting, her study, and performance of classical music, her interest in science. To lose one of her precious brood caused her a sorrow which she expresses in her letters freely, gently, but intensely, and which broke her now frail health. But it was no egotistic melancholy to which she gave her heart. Her husband's accession in 1877 to the throne of tho Grand Duchy opened to her a way to fulfil many an old project, educational and philanthropic, and she Ret herself to do in these respects all that her hand found to do. A visit to England for health's sake was turned to charitable account. She translated Miss Octavia Hill's pamphlets on the housing of the poor ; and at Eastbourne she sought the acquaintance of Mrs Vicars, whose little book, "Work Among the Lost," had fallen into her hands. Mrs Vicars superintended an institution at Brighton for the rescue of outcasts, and to this work the Princess lent her active and beneficent aid. On her return to Darmstadt she remembered her poor English ponitentf, and sent them three sacred pictures for the walls of their home. For the friend of Straw-is, to whom he had read and dedicated his " Life of Voltaire," had now returned to that early faith which filled the letters written in her first youth. It is said that the religious history of most thinkiug persons can be summed up in three words —Yc s, No, Yes. It certainly was 80 with the Princess Alice. She had said her unquestioning "yes" in her girlhood, the "no" of her riper and more restless years had also been uttered and was over, and tho old "yes " came back to her lips after many sorrows. Her biographer says : We have to thank the Princess of B , a friend to whom thy Grand Duchess unreservedly opened her inmost heart, for tho following communications, with which the observations of others agree:— After her son's death I thought I observed a difference in her feeling*. Previously she had almost openly expussed her doubts In the existence ot God, albwing herself to be led by tho views of philosopher-- ; after her son's death the no longer ppoko In this way, tut remained silent under tie hdl-.tonco of a power from within, whose efl cb I afterwards perci-ived. It seeme:' as if was unwilling to admit that a change h'.-d come over ho>\ Later she confided to me how this charge took place in her, and I could not iiaton toln-r st ;ry without team She ascribed it to the death of her child and to a Scotch gentleman from whom she had painting lessons, ''l owe all to this man, who has exercised such a beneficial influence on my religious views ; yet people tdk so much evil of him, and of my relations to him." At another time she said : " The whole conduction of phiio-ophical conclusions which I had formerly built up I now find t> be based on nothing; nothing has remained, and what should we be in life if we had no faith and no conv'ctlon that there is a God who governs the world and each siDglo cne of U3." "I fee! the. nee.: sity of prayer. I like to sing hymns with my children, and each has its favorite hymn." I remember that her tables were, covered with religious bools in all language.*, and that the recommended some ot them to me. The Princess's pathetic death is still freshly remembered. While nursing her husband and children in the disease which had attacked them she sank at her post. One of her dying children, full of the poison of diphtheria, besought her for a kiss, and the tender mother folded the child in her arms and drew her own-death from its lips in a last embrace. Such a story needs no adorning. But it was very curiously characteristic of the Orientalism of Lord Beaconsfield that he declared in the House of Lords that it ought to bo engraved on gems or cameos.

The Princess Alice died on tho anniversary of her father's death—the day which for seventeen years had been kept as a day of mourning and tears at Windsor—in the Crown Princess's palace in Berlin, and in the younger daughter's home at Darmstadt. The Queen had just been gladdened by better news of the sufferers, and she slept in hope, but woke to receive the telegram which announced the end. In a letter to Lord Granville the Prince of Wales wioteon that day : So good, to kind, so clover. We had gone through so much together—my father's illness, then my own ; and she has tuccumbed to the pernicious malady which laid low her husband and children, whom she nursed with unceasing care and attention The Queim

bears up bravely, but her grief is deep, beyond words.

The Princess had written in the year of her death: "This journey becomes easier the more the number of those we love increases in Heaven." Her end was peaceful; and, as the laureate said, she "died so English " that she directed the Union Jack to be laid over her bier. She had lived in one sense too long, for she had lived to see the death of several of her children. But she has left daughters who are the very flower of princesshood. In the Princess Elizabeth especially seems to live again the fine grace which gave her mother an inimitable distinction. It is not precisely beauty ; but it is a refinement and perfection of ladyhood in look and manner. Her sister is already betrothed ; and the Princess Elizabeth herself is a priza for whom the flower of princes might well contend. Let us add that the close cousinship cxistiug between the Princess and the eldest sou of the Prince of Wales may be thought a bar to a union which would otherwise almost certainly take place. But there are those who whisper that ties still closer than those of consanguinity may yet unite them, and that another and a gcotler Elizabeth will be amongst the English queens of the future.