The Duke resembles his father in his love for and cultivation of music.
There does not seem to be any opening for him to play a part like that of
Alfred the Great, but he can probably play the violin better than that
monarch ever did. They drew another sort of a bow in those old days.
The Princess Christian of Schleswig-Holstein (Princess Helena) is in appearance most like her mother, and perhaps in character and tastes, as she lives a life of quiet retirement, is a devoted wife and-mother, yet often giving her time and energies to a good work, or an artistic enterprise. She also is exceedingly fond of music and is an accomplished pianist. A passion for music belongs to this family by a double inheritance. Even poor, old, blind George the Third consoled himself at his organ, for the loss of an empire and the darkening of as world.
The Duke of Connaught, whom we so pleasantly remember in America as Prince Arthur, is the soldier of the family—a real one, since he won his spars in Egypt. He has something of the grave, gentle look of his father, and is much liked and respected.
The Princess Louise (Marchioness of Lome) is a beautiful woman, but with a somewhat cold and proud expression, a veritable grande dame. She is remarkably clever and accomplished, especially in art—modeling admirably well—for a Princess.
Prince Leopold (Duke of Albany) is the scholar of the family— intellectually and morally more like Prince Albert, it is said, than any of his brothers. I was once told by the eminent Dr. James Martineau, who had met and conversed with him, that he was a young man of a very thoughtful mind, high aims, and quite remarkable acquirements. As Dr. Martineau is not of the church, being a Unitarian divine, he cannot be suspected, in pronouncing such eulogies on the Queen's darling son, of having an eye to preferment-of working for a "living." On the whole, Her Majesty's sons are a decided improvement on her six royal uncles, on the paternal side.
We come now to the youngest, the darling and delight of her father, the little one who "stood and looked at him," when he lay ill, marveling at the mysterious change in his dear face;—the Princess Beatrice—as closely associated, as constantly with her mother as was the Princess Victoria with the Duchess of Kent. She also is accomplished and clever, nor appears in any way to "unbeseem the promise of her spring." She also has the love of music which marks her race. She was little more than a baby when her father went away, and her innocent wonder and questioning must often have pierced her mother's wounded heart anew; and yet those little loving hands must have helped to draw that mother from the depths of gloom and despair in which she was so nearly engulfed. Though the youngest of all, her father seems to have delegated to her much of his dearest earthly care, and she the good daughter, is, it may be, led by unseen hands, and inspired by unspoken words of counsel and acceptance. So, though the life of the Princess Beatrice is not abounding in the Court gayeties and excitements which usually fall to the lot of a Princess, "young, and so fair," none, can question its happiness, for it is a life of duty and devotion.
* * * * *
And now my little biography is finished—"would it were worthier!"—and I must take leave of my illustrious subject, "kissing hands" in imagination, with profound respect. If I back out of the presence, it is not in unrepublican abasement, but because I am loath to turn my eyes away, from the kindly and now familiar face of the good woman, and the good Queen—VICTORIA.