Part 16

“Hold fast the sacred tradition of 1877, so as always to be worthy of the great distinctions which you owe to your brave brothers in arms. I raise my glass to drink to the health of the army, and to the memory of the fallen heroes of Grivitza.” Enthusiastic hurrahs and the braying of trumpets awoke the echoes of the hills. Then the King rose again to wreathe the flag in the name of the Queen, and said--“This garland of flowers the Queen dedicates to the flag torn with bullets and blackened with the smoke of the powder, around which the remnants of the battalion crowded in the hour of danger and pressed on to victory!”

The banquet had ended. The King surrounded by his soldiers, and the Queen by children, went from tent to tent, giving all a kind word or a smile. Then gipsy music suddenly resounded, and as if by magic the crowd arranged itself hand in hand for the famous dance of the Hora, this celebrated national dance of the Roumanians. The royal pair placed themselves in the middle of the circle formed by soldiers, peasants, and ladies and gentlemen. It was soon extended to such a length that a second circle of dancing children formed itself round the Queen. At first the Hora moved slowly and with stately grace, but when the gipsies sang the Kindia, when the violins, pipes, mandolins, and tambourines sounded louder and quicker, the circle was broken, and the people flew up and down in long rows. They surged to the right and to the left, backwards and forwards, without pausing, and with breathless speed. They were all in the highest spirits, but their joy was kept within bounds. There was no disorder, and only joyous sounds resounded in the hills.

At sunset the royal pair returned to the castle. A thousand voices cheered them as they descended the height, and sounded on and on when their figures had long been lost in the gloom of the forest. Soon the braying of trumpets was heard in the still side valley of the Prahova, where the beautiful castle of the King stands near the foaming Pelesch. One torch after another appeared in the dark fir woods. Then the procession of torches came up the sides of the hill and stood before the castle, which, being at this moment illuminated with Bengal lights, shone like a fairy palace in the dark night, the royal pair appearing in the glorious light. The military bands sounded grand amongst those mighty mountains. The performance of the battle prayer was the close of this patriotic fête. The torch-bearers gradually disappeared into the shades of the forest. Deep silence surrounded the castle, and broad shadows overspread the forest and mountains. Night stretched her dreamy wings, over the landscape which had so lately been peopled by a gay throng.

A few weeks later the royal pair left their castle in the Carpathians and travelled to Sigmaringen. Prince Charles Anthony of Hohenzollern and his consort, born a Princess of Baden, the parents of the King of Roumania, celebrated their golden wedding there on the 21st of October. All their children and grandchildren surrounded the venerable pair. The Emperor William heightened the brilliancy of this extraordinary festivity by his presence, to which nearly all the Princes of Germany had assembled themselves in the castle of the Hohenzollern. Numerous deputations brought artistically executed congratulatory addresses, presents, and poems. They were all tokens of sincere and grateful veneration, for the whole of Germany had taken a lively interest in the happiness of the princely pair.

But to this joy soon succeeded the sorrow at the death of Prince Charles Anthony of Hohenzollern. After much suffering a sort of apoplectic fit had seized him. His condition became worse, his weakness increased, and he lost consciousness. Surrounded by his children and the faithful partner of his life, he passed away on the 2nd of June 1885, without a struggle. During the sad days when the Prince was slowly dying, the Queen of Roumania had been “a true angel of consolation,” as she expressed it, to her mother-in-law, the now widowed Princess Josephine. Queen Elizabeth had watched and prayed with her at the deathbed of the Prince during the first night, and had undertaken for her the numerous labours of love which in such days have such claims on heart and time.

It was a historic moment when, on the morning of the 6th of June, the mourning procession, headed by the then Crown Prince of the German Empire, started from the castle to the tomb of their ancestors, in which the mortal remains of the last reigning Prince of Hohenzollern-Sigmaringen were laid to rest. He belonged to the most distinguished and meritorious men of his time, whose influence the grateful German Fatherland will not forget.

But not alone the family lost a beloved centre in the noble German Prince. The Emperor William bewailed in him the trusted friend of many years, who had stood faithfully at his side in times of difficulty and danger. Prince Charles Anthony had made the first step towards the union of Germany. Having realised with great political insight during the occurrences of 1848 that the position of the little states was untenable, he willingly renounced the sovereignty of his Hohenzollern lands. He handed his principality over to the head of the Prussian branch of his house, and forthwith, as the first German subject, worked with great unselfishness and conscientiousness to help on the power and greatness of Germany. Prussia’s territory now extended to the south of Germany. As a memento of this deed, Frederick William IV. founded the Order of Hohenzollern, with the inscription, “Vom Fels zum Meer” (From the Rock to the Sea).

The Roumanians also bewailed the loss of this noble Prince. They knew that he had followed the development of the country with the interest of a statesman, for its fate remains closely bound up in the family of Hohenzollern. Roumania is an hereditary constitutional monarchy. In the year 1866 the naturalisation of the Sigmaringen branch of the Hohenzollerns was carried out, and the question of the succession legally settled. Prince Leopold, the then hereditary Prince, stood nearest to the throne, and his second son Ferdinand was the heir-apparent of King Charles.

In 1886 this circumstance assumed a political significance. During a visit of the present Prince Leopold and his two sons, Ferdinand and Charles, a weighty affair of State was transacted. The King had nominated Prince Leopold of Hohenzollern chief of the 3rd Regiment of Grenadiers, which Prince Ferdinand now entered as a lieutenant. After his nomination had been read out in the presence of the Queen, all the Ministers, the Presidents of the Senate and Chamber of Deputies, as well as all the generals and officers, the King addressed the assembly. Touching on the entrance of Prince Ferdinand into the Roumanian army, he added--

“This is an honour for him of which I am assured he will prove himself worthy. For us it is a great cause for rejoicing and a surety for the future which the country will understand, for as a member of my family he might one day be called upon to protect my kingdom and to carry on our traditions. It is therefore a weighty moment which now unites us here, and in later times we shall often remember that the 26th of November has a deep meaning. I and my successor, to-day and in the future, will place our entire confidence in the army and rest on its sure foundations.”

Loud hurrahs often interrupted the royal speech, and the touching and important ceremony was brought to a close by the march-past of the troops, during which the Prince of Hohenzollern led his regiment, and Prince Ferdinand with deep emotion took his place in its ranks near the flag.

What feelings throbbed through the heart of the royal lady at this moment, which brought so vividly before her the bitterness of her sorrow, all she thus had to resign, and how many disappointed hopes! This great sorrow had been her constant companion during the last eighteen years--“It has added the battle with itself to the battle with life.”

“_3rd March 1886._--And yet I shall never say I would rather not have lived, for my life is rich and full, and though the waves do not cease to beat, they are mighty waves on a deep sea, and the wind which whistles round my cables makes them a harp and sings songs to the world. No; life is still beautiful though it may be stormy.”

What was deeply enshrined in her heart has found an expression in songs and pictures. The Queen has quite lately raised a monument of her lost child which will outlive many a human life, for she has entrusted it to the sacred keeping of the Church.

During the government of King Charles not only the political and commercial life of the country was renewed, but he had regarded it as his duty to save the treasures of art and the ancient buildings of the country from destruction. One of the finest monuments of the Middle Ages, and a marvel of classical Byzantine, architecture, is the Cathedral of Curtea de Arges. Through the influence of the weather, fire, and neglect it had fallen into decay. King Charles sent for the famous Lecomte de Nouy, a scholar of Viollet-le-Duc, to Roumania, in order to restore the church according to the intentions of its founder, as gloriously as it stood nearly four hundred years ago.

On the 5th of March 1886 Queen Elizabeth writes to her mother:--“I have undertaken a great work for the Church of Curtea de Arges. I am inscribing the gospels on enormous sheets of vellum, from which they are then to be read every Thursday as a recollection of that Thursday on which I heard them read beside the coffin of my child. It will be a fine work, and I shall write this book with my own hands, so that it will be the best monument to little Marie. I will paint a dedication for its consecration according to the customs of the Middle Ages.

“The binding will be executed by Telge in Berlin in cloisonnet after my designs. I have just painted a background with a scarlet border. Gold letters with red in them are to appear on this blue background, and on the scarlet edge Moorish ornaments in gold with blue. You can imagine how rich this will be.

“On the first page are four episodes in the life of Marie, and four from the Passion of Christ, on which the words ‘Betrayed’ might stand: ‘Gethsemane, the Kiss of Judas, the Betrayal, and the Purple Robe.’ In the middle is the Resurrection, that is the Noli me tangere of Fiesole, Christ and the Magdalene. On the other side of the page is my dedication surrounded by angels’ heads. In the midst my child’s portrait. She is represented as tolling the Easter bell. To the left Otto; to the right Hermann, Marie, and Franzi; in the middle below Stéphanie; on the right Marie Bibra; to the left Marie Sulzer. Their names and the dates of their death are inscribed at the side.

“The dedication is as follows:--

‘I have made this book of the Twelve[4] Gospels of the Passion of our Lord and Saviour Christ Jesus for the Holy Church and Episcopacy of Curtea de Arges, and consecrated it to God as a monument to my only and deeply loved child Marie, who passed to life eternal on Thursday in Holy Week, and at whose deathbed I then heard the consoling words of God.

[4] In the Greek Churches of Roumania the Passion of our Lord is read every Maunday Thursday. It is there called the twelve gospels, as the words of the four evangelists are interrupted twelve times with song and prayer.

‘CASTLE PELESCH, _27th Aug.-8th Sept. 1886_.’

“Round the pages I have only painted butterflies, symbols of eternity and resurrection, and three times the song of Easter week:--

‘Christos a înviat din morti Cu Moarte prim Moarte calcând Si delor din mormônturi Viata daruindule.

‘Christ is risen from the dead, Having overcome death through death, And given life To those in the grave.’”

“_18th February 1888._--The Book of the Gospels of Curtea de Arges takes much strength and time. It contains fifty large sheets of parchment, and will want fifty more. When I am working at it my pen is thrown aside. It is as if my fancy could only work in one direction at a time. Of course I work at it twelve to thirteen hours a day, and finish a page in three days.”

“Et dire que ce travail machinal me survivra peut-être seul, quand tout ce que j’ai écrit sera démodé et mes grandes pensées éteintes!”

In the middle of October 1886 the renovated basilica was to be consecrated, and the King and Queen were to arrive in Curtea de Arges on that day. The little market town lies in Wallachia, to the north-west of Pitesci, and was the seat of the Wallachian Princes from the thirteenth to the fifteenth centuries. The cathedral stands on a height outside the little town. It is said to have been built between 1517 and 1527 by the architect Manole. According to the legend, Manole buried his young wife alive in the foundations of the building, to break the spell which caused the work of the day to fall to pieces in the night. Art critics say that this church is unique of its kind. The Greek cross was chosen for the plan of foundation of the basilica, with a wide dome. The whole building is painted green, gold, and blue. The arches of the windows and their frames, and the numberless garlands in stone which entwine around them, are covered with numerous and ever-varying ornamental sculptures. The effect of these is enhanced by a gold ground and light tints. As symbolic ornaments, little doves carved in stone with bells in their beaks hover over these garlands. The most beautiful harmony of colour and form pervades the whole of this artistically perfect creation. Some steps lead up to the Moorish entrance, the ante-hall of which is supported by twelve pillars. Not far from the principal entrance stands the baptistery.

When the King and Queen arrived, the road from Pitesci to Curtea de Arges was decked with numberless triumphal arches, but the greatest ornament were the people, who enthusiastically greeted their Majesties, and whose beautiful national costumes harmonised in a wonderful manner with the architecture.

From a telegram from the Minister Stourdza to the Dowager Princess of Wied:--

“We have in consecrating the Episcopal Church of Arges taken part in a beautiful and ideal fête which nothing could further enhance. Surrounded by an indescribably beautiful landscape, which shone in a glorious light and magnificent autumn tints, the fête was intensified by religious, artistic, and poetical feelings, as well as by the recollection of the past, a sense of the present, and a firm faith in the future. The King and Queen were the centre of interest, to whom a crowd of all classes from all parts of the kingdom (above 20,000 people) brought a magnificent ovation.

“The speech of the King from the portal of the church found an echo in the hearts of all present. The book of the Gospels written by the Queen and now consecrated was demanded by the people, and kissed with touching devotion. This day is a day of great importance and wide-spreading influence. We were consecrating a splendid Temple of Peace to the God of Heaven whilst dreadful disorders surrounded us. All the clergy, from Archbishop to Priest, came to the King to thank him warmly for the protection which he had accorded to the church, and for the beacon light which the Roumanian Church had, through the influence of King Charles, become in the East.”

On the 30th of October 1886 Queen Elizabeth writes to her mother:--“The church is simply like one of the Arabian Nights, with its magnificent background of mountains, which are as high as Caraiman. I have rarely seen such harmony of colour. I said to Lecomte--‘N’avez-vous pas trop souffert pendant ces douze ans, pour vous réjouir aujourd’hui?’ ‘J’ai travaillé pour un idéal et maintenant que Votre Majesté est contente, je tâcherai de ne plus souffrir.’ I was quite overpowered when I entered the church, as also when I saw my book carried out and kissed, and the Gospel read out of it.

“Those were wonderful moments! During the communion all the little bells which the stone doves carry in their beaks began to tinkle in a light breeze, and the church echoed during Charles’ speech as though it were giving answer. More than 15,000 people had assembled, mostly peasants in their costumes. They rejoiced because I was dressed as they were. In the afternoon they brought me an ovation. When I went to fetch my Book of the Gospels I found the church full of the common people. The Bishop carried it out and placed himself before the door of the church with it. I turned over the pages for the people, who kissed my shoulders, arms, and hands, and crossing themselves, blessed me and kissed the book. Women, children, and soldiers all crowded around us in the wonderful church door. Add to this the sunset, which tinted the distant mountains violet and pink, the nearer hills golden. Next year the railway will run to Curtea de Arges, so that you can be there from Bucharest in three hours. Then of course the posting will come to an end, and all the peasants will no more accompany us with their horses, which is so charming.”

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Troublous times for the old as well as for the new home of Queen Elizabeth now followed. The King and Queen of Roumania had also hurried to Berlin for the Emperor William’s ninetieth birthday, the 22nd of March 1887. The assembled people cheered heartily and enthusiastically when the carriage drove up to the Palace which brought the King and Queen of Roumania to offer their congratulations. It was in honour of the son of Hohenzollern, who had founded a kingdom in the East with a strong hand. It was also in honour of Carmen Sylva, the royal poetess.

Not a year had passed when in the early morning of the 9th of March 1888, the Emperor William had passed from his eventful life to life eternal, strong in his simple faith. Victorious in battle and moderate in victory, the founder of the German Empire, the ideal of a German Emperor, his death became an event in the history of the world.

It was not God’s will that the Emperor Frederick III. should reign long and gloriously. With a courage which effaced all the glories of his victories on fields of battle, he patiently bore the tortures of his illness till the last moment when he departed this life! Germany does not forget her hero, round whose brow a double laurel-wreath is bound--that of the warrior and the uncomplaining sufferer of cruel anguish!

The royal Roumanian pair had again come to Berlin for the funeral of the Emperor. Circumstances did not allow of their doing the last honours to the Emperor Frederick. But all the reasonings of statesmen had to retire to the background when, in the course of the summer, a change of air became a necessity for their Majesties, repeated attacks of fever having utterly weakened them. In August 1888 King Carol went to take the waters of Gräfenberg for a short time, whilst Queen Elizabeth was sent to Westerland-on-Sylt on the North Sea.

Not as Queen of Roumania, but as “Carmen Sylva,” was she enthusiastically received on her journey to Sylt as soon as she was on German soil. She has sung her songs and told her tales to the German Fatherland, and now the German people crowded around her and thanked her with hearty cheers!

In beautiful sunshine, her carriage hung with garlands, and enthusiastically greeted by the crowd, Carmen Sylva arrived at the station of Westerland, which was gaily decorated with triumphal arches. The Queen had taken the Villa Roth, near the Downs, for herself and her suite. She desired her tent to be erected at the most southern point of the neutral shore, for there was the principal playground of the children, and she, the children’s friend, wished to be in the midst of them and their merry games.

The next day she writes to her mother--“The crowd of children surrounded me already. There are children from Berlin and Westphalia, Saxony and Styria, from all parts of Germany. They have built me a fortress, and I tell them fairy tales whilst they sit crowded around me on the sand. I am like the ratcatcher of Hameln--all children run after me.” And so it continues, day after day, for three weeks.

It was a lovely picture when, on each morning, the children hurried down to the shore to ornament the sand-hill on which the Queen was to take her place with flowers, to throw flowers on her lap and bestrew her path with them. She sat there like a fairy queen, encircled by the children. Whichever way she turned, her eyes rested on the eager eyes of children and their joyful faces. A little fair-haired child held her parasol over her whilst she read to them, or told of the hills and rivers of Roumania which she had turned into living pictures in her fairy tales. The deep stillness of the children listening with eager attention, was only broken by the sound of the waves or the calls of the sea-gulls which were poised overhead.

When the royal lady ascended the steep steps which led from the shore of an evening, she walked alone, only accompanied by the crowd of children, who carried after her the numberless floral offerings which had been showered upon her in her seat on the sand or in her tent in the course of the day. Then the Queen often followed the little path that led to the cemetery, that “Home of the Homeless.” Here she decorated with her choicest flowers those graves on whose cross only the words “Stranded hither” were engraved, with the date. After her departure from Sylt, the Queen had a slab of granite placed opposite the entrance with a few verses which point to the Home above, where all names shall stand in the Book of Life.

Her departure from Westerland on the 18th of September was quite touching. Queen Elizabeth had won all hearts during her stay there. Many hundreds of people had assembled at the station to get a last sight of her. The road which led to her garlanded carriage was bestrewn with leaves and flowers, whilst grown up people and children stood on each side. With grateful looks they offered her the last flowers, and the Queen could only advance one step at a time, as there were so many to take leave of. Weeping children pressed to her and weeping women kissed her hands. Enthusiastic cheers for the royal poetess resounded as the train left the station, and did not cease till it had entirely disappeared.

The people of Sylt have a superstition that if a wreath is thrown into the sea whilst one is thinking of loved ones who are absent, they will return one day if the waves carry it back to the shore. When the Queen was removed from their sight the children had committed their wreaths to the foam-crowned waves, and had dried their tears and shouted for joy when the flowers were thrown up on the shore in safety!

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We will end our account of the royal poetess by reminding our English readers that the Prince of Wales paid a visit to Sinaia in October 1888. His Royal Highness was delighted with the beauty of the place and with the arrangements made, in the Queen’s happiest vein, for his entertainment. Among these may be mentioned an elaborate series of _tableaux vivants_, prepared and executed, under the Queen’s personal supervision, by members of her Majesty’s household, and representing the thirteen letters contained in Prince of Wales. The scenes were mostly from Shakespeare, the last of all giving a vivid rendering of the Tavern Scene from “Henry IV.,” in which Falstaff recounts his exploits to the future victor of Agincourt.

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