Part 9

The Princess had begun her new life in her new home with illness. Only her wonderful energy had enabled her to bear the fatigues of her public reception whilst labouring under great physical discomfort. On the third day after her public entrance the Princess was attacked by the measles, though fortunately only slightly, and the illness was not of long duration. After the great excitement of the last weeks the enforced quiet could only be desirable. How happy the Princess felt in her new surroundings a little poem shows which she inscribed in her Journal on the 12th of December 1869:--

“From a gladsome month a jubilee song Soars up to the skies above, Like the lark’s song saying, so clear and strong, ‘What a beautiful world to love!’”

After her recovery the first expedition the Princess made was to Cotroceni, which is situated on a height at ten minutes’ distance from Bucharest. It is an old monastery, surrounded by a thickly wooded park, which the Prince had arranged as a country house for the summer. Not far off, beyond the green trees, the shining domes of the Asyle Hélène, an educational establishment for young orphan girls, are seen. From this height the view of Bucharest is also very fine. This is nearer to the town than the station, and the coming and going in the wood-paved streets can be distinctly perceived. Women in their dazzlingly white linen and embroidered garments are seen busily painting their cottages white and their windows red and blue. These cottages are roofed with wooden tiles, and lie scattered between the gorgeous palaces of the Boyards. Under the willows and alders on the banks of the Dimbovitza lie magnificent buffaloes, idly resting, and half lost to view in the deep mud and the green foliage. Only their expressive faces with their immense horns are still visible. Carriages drawn by eight and sometimes twelve little horses rush by at full gallop. A boy guides them with one hand. His fiery glances and his fur cap placed on one side of his head lead one to gather that he is not of a sort to stop at any danger. Carmen Sylva has drawn a lively picture of these characteristics of the Roumanian coachman in her poem called “The Post.” Here artistic ideas meet one at every turn, for amidst such surroundings everything groups itself into a picture, especially during the oriental sunsets, the glowing colours of which blend harmoniously.

Now the life of duty which her exalted station imposed upon her began for the Princess--“It is only in Roumania that something remains to be done,” she had exclaimed in fun. And now she stood face to face with her coveted sphere. A large field of labour, till now uncultivated, lay before her. The first thing was to become acquainted with the soil and its resources. In this the large Court receptions could not help her. Consequently Princess Elizabeth had arranged that each lady who wished to pay her respects at Court was to be separately received by her. Being exceptionally free from prejudice, she now learnt to understand the true worth of people, and to realise what they thought and felt. “It was too disagreeable to me,” she said, “to have to say things during the State receptions which I did not really mean. In order not to be false, I endeavoured to feel the interest which I expressed. Every human being is in want of sympathy. And now every one interests me, and I find them all interesting. Consequently I do not now find the audiences tiresome; on the contrary, I look forward to them. The smallest thing I do must be done with my whole heart if it is to succeed, and the least thing I am will require all my power if I am to be anything.”

The beginning of the year 1870 brought with it many tears. There were many conflicts and confusions in the Administration. The Franco-German War having been declared, her brother, Prince William of Wied, had responded to the call of his country, and received an officer’s commission in the general staff of the army corps. His mother, his bride, and his sister trembled for his life. But he passed through the field of battle unscathed, and was decorated with the iron cross as a reward of his valour. On the 7th of September Princess Elizabeth received a letter from Prince William, written from Sedan, with the news of victory. At noon on the following day, the 8th of September, twenty-one salvos of artillery announced to the inhabitants of Bucharest that a daughter was born to their princely house. A few hours later the Metropolitan appeared in full dress. He held the sacred Ikon over the mother and the child in its cradle, blessed them with holy water, and repeated the customary prayers.

The new-born Princess was baptized into the orthodox Greek Church, and received the name of “Marie.” The news of the event was received with great joy through the country--“God bless the new citizen of Roumania, and may she grow up to be the joy of her parents and a blessing to her country.” This was the devout wish of many thousands of people. The tiny Princess became forthwith almost the most important personage in the whole of Roumania. Every one was interested in her welfare, and she seemed to belong to all, for she was born in the country.

Princess Elizabeth was intensely devoted to her beloved child. She was filled with the sacred feeling of happy motherhood. The radiant eyes of her child changed the face of the world to her. She had a still deeper sympathy for the sorrows of others, and their happiness became but a reflection of her own. As a recollection of this time she wrote in her Journal at a later date the following poem, entitled

MOTHER.

“The sweetest name this earth around, The sweetest word in all speech found, Is ‘Mother!’ Yes; none so deep and tender seems, Comes quicklier, with such fond thoughts teems, As ‘Mother!’

And most of all, its music shows, Lisped from a baby’s lips of rose, ‘Ah, Mother!’ Laughed from a baby’s lightsome eye, Babbled from heart of infancy, ‘My Mother!’

Yes; she to whom the dear name’s said Has all her life great goodlihead As ‘Mother!’ But whoso had it, and has lost, Sees earthly happiness quite crossed-- Sad Mother!”

--_Translated by Sir Edwin Arnold._

There is also another poem with the title--

MY OLD AND NEW HOME.

“Full many a grave in Monrepos O’er which the forest boughs are tost, Argues the grief that rends my heart For those whom I have loved and lost.

But Monrepos proclaimed me his, My lord’s, till soul and body part; Divinely sent he came, and I Became the chosen of his heart.

All this thou silent grove with me In solemn sympathy hast seen; The rest was shrouded from thy gaze, For many a league lay stretched between.

In distant land new scenes surround, Alternatives of joy and care; My baby’s voice there strikes my ear, Hope, love and sorrow, all are there.”

When the little Princess, who called herself “Itty,” first called her “mother,” the Princess wrote--

A WORD.

“Let every tongue proclaim it, And waft it every gale, My child has lisped out “mother!” Ye birds chirp forth the tale.

Beside myself with gladness, I can scarce my joy believe; My heart leaps up within me, And laughs from morn till eve.

My native tongue I thank thee For such a word divine; For ever and for ever A mother’s name is mine!”

But whilst this treasure of the princely house flourished and grew in its nurseries, there was much trouble in the country. The Strousberg railway affairs became a great difficulty to the Prince. He employed every means in his power to arrange the matter according to the best interests of Roumania. A crisis in the ministry necessitated a change of Cabinet. A revolution broke out in Bucharest. The Prince would have resigned, but his steadfast calmness impressed the passionate and excitable people of Roumania; the stormy political waves were gradually subdued, and the work for the country proceeded quietly once more.

Meanwhile Princess Elizabeth diligently studied the Roumanian language. Her knowledge of Latin and Italian were a good foundation for the idiom of the country, and she soon overcame all difficulties. She is now entirely mistress of the Roumanian language, and the Roumanians proudly declare that their Queen speaks it better than themselves, as she forms her sentences with peculiar exactness. In the year 1871 the first society for the relief of the poor was founded by Princess Elizabeth, and soon after a society for the translation of children’s books. “There are absolutely no Roumanian books for the schools and the people,” Princess Elizabeth wrote to her mother. “I will undertake this. I have already divided my best French children’s books amongst the young ladies, and have gained the interest of some gentlemen. The poet Alexandri will criticise and correct the translations, which are then to be quickly and cheaply printed. In this manner the language itself will become more fixed, and the young people, who do not speak their own language correctly, will learn it to perfection. It is curious how zealously the people take up this idea. They regard it as a safeguard against the revolutionary ideas of the young people, who now discuss nothing but politics. Politics excite the people here to such an extent that men, women, and even children have no other interests. General Florescu is the most eager in furthering my plans, and thinks that if I interest more people in this movement it would have a good influence on society. Private theatricals and concerts also awake more noble ambitions. Societies for relieving the poor, for translating and teaching, everything is arranging itself by degrees.”

In April 1871 the Prince travelled with his consort through Moldavia to Jassy, that she might also learn to know this part of her country. The journey resembled a triumphal procession, and their reception was brilliant and hearty everywhere. At all the greater places deputations and petitions were received, the customary bread and salt presented, and a _Te Deum_ heard in the church. The Princess writes--“It is impossible to imagine such enthusiasm and the cheers given by thousands. Our time in Jassy was filled up with audiences, visits to churches and schools, expeditions to the neighbouring monasteries, &c. Joyful enthusiasm prevailed among all the people.”

On her return the Princess wrote to her mother--“How shall I describe to you the magnificent country through which we drove, our eight horses with postillions cracking their whips and shouting, the three or four hundred peasants who accompanied _ventre à terra_, their mantles of white goat’s hair streaming in the wind, and their high, white fur caps on their heads! What shall I say about the nice people in Moldavia, and of the proud feeling it was to hear on every railway line, on every bridge and highroad, that my husband had had it made, and then to gallop onward! And then returning here, after thousands had greeted us, again to clasp the best beloved amongst all those thousands, healthy and blooming, in my arms!” Does not untold happiness resound in these words? And now the Princess of Wied was soon expected, a pleasure which Princess Elizabeth and her husband were eagerly looking forward to. In July 1871 the wedding of Prince William of Wied had been celebrated at the Hague. A few weeks later the Princess of Wied first visited her children at Bucharest, and held her first grandchild in her arms. Bright happiness filled their hearts and their home.

For the health of the little Princess it became desirable to spend the summer with her in mountain and forest air. It is the only remedy against the attacks of fever to which every one is subjected soon or later in the Roumanian plains. From this time the Prince resided in the Carpathians in the summer. There in the valley of the Prahova, two thousand nine hundred feet high, upon a precipitous rocky mountain, stands the monastery of Sinaia. A Prince Cantacuzéne had built and named it after the Temple on Mount Sinai. It had been used till then as a Hospice for the many caravans of ox-carts which, laden with maize, proceed day and night almost uninterruptedly over the mountain paths to Transylvania. The peaks of the Carpathians tower in fantastic forms behind the monastery. Carmen Sylva has enriched them with poetic legends in her poems. First comes Virful-cu-Dor (the Heights of Longing), then Furnica, Piatre Arsa, the two Jipi which arise like the teeth of a giant. The deafening waterfall Urlatoare (the Howling One) rushes down to the Prahova valley, and the Omul and Caraiman, eight thousand nine hundred feet in height, stand dark and threatening with their mighty rocks.

These are all names which we have learnt to know and love through the “little book” from Carmen Sylva’s “Kingdom.” Huge mountains crowned with verdure stretch into the plain. Their feet are clothed with forests of beech and oak, whilst their heights are covered with fir-trees. From the monastery you attain the deep solitude of a forest which is here as beautiful as a dream. Gigantic old trees rear their branches to heaven. If one falls, oppressed with the weight of years, it is allowed to remain there till, covered with creepers and moss, it completes the woodland scenery, and young trees grow out of the mouldering trunk. Ferns and orchids of endless varieties and unusual height delight the friend of nature. In this magnificent vegetation every foot of land is covered with multitudes of botanic species, one might say the history of the forest. The most beautiful flowers of the Alps, Edelweiss and Almenrausch, are found on the heights of the foremost mountains. Not far from the monastery the Pelesch casts itself down from Bucegi to the valley below in a foaming waterfall, “wildly escaping from its bounds as if it would take the world by storm.” Its seething waves flow down endlessly, and the river winds hither and thither, and has often devastated the country in its course. It is a beautiful and ever varying picture of steep mountains, shady valleys, and running brooks.

The white walls of the monastery welcome the wanderer from afar. The one-storied building is of very humble dimensions, and surrounds the square court of the monastery, which is devoid of any ornament, and in the centre of which a church stands. The inhabited part is ornamented with wooden arcades, and old Byzantine paintings still adorn the outside walls. Thirty monks, types of the eastern clergy, here enjoy in peaceful repose the blessings of this pious institution. Half of this humble habitation had been allotted to the Prince. Lightly built additions in fir wood had been made to the principal building in order to make it at all habitable. If the banner of Roumania had not waved over the entrance, and sentries paced up and down the verandahs, one could easier imagine that an artist had made his home here than that this was the residence of a Prince. We can scarcely conceive with what simplicity and content the princely pair here bore the greatest discomfort for many years. The Princess, for instance, heard the ticking of the clock in the neighbouring cell of an old monk in her dressing-room. The monks dined in the refectory; the Prince in a passage which had been arranged as a dining-room. At first provisions arrived from Kronstadt only twice in the week. But no deprivations seemed worth mentioning here, for in Sinaia as in Monrepos was forest air and liberty in which the Princess delighted.

Higher up in the valley, under the shade of high trees, the Prince had built a shooting-box, and surrounded it with a simple garden. Under its roof the Princess arranged a tiny room very artistically. One gazes through coloured windows upon the groups of fir trees of a hundred years’ growth. A simple desk covered with cloth, a pair of chairs, and a low table laden with books, paint brushes, and colours are all its furniture. It is the sanctum of the Princess, to which she retires when the stream of visitors who unceasingly come out to Sinaia have fatigued her. Here she can write, paint, and compose poetry undisturbed.

Scientific men, musicians, and painters are constantly invited to Sinaia, and are often for weeks the guests of the princely pair. Here they lead an ideal life. Intercourse with distinguished people, be they artists or learned or otherwise clever men, is the great delight of the Prince and Princess. They love to gaze, as it were, into the workshop whence thought has sprung, and have a deep regard for the earnestness of labour in art or science. Gaiety and cheerfulness reign in these circles. Often the Princess will read to the assembled company at breakfast a poem she has just completed, that treats of their conversations or the events of the day, with youthful cheerfulness. By noon the winged words have already been set to music by one of the musicians, and presented to the Princess as a duet, trio, or quartette, according to the voices of those present. In the evening these new compositions are performed, and the young people end the day with dances and games.

Long walks and climbing parties are undertaken during the fine weather. Accompanied by the sound of the waves of the restless Pelesch, one climbs along grassy walks into the steep beech woods. In a convenient costume for mountaineering, the Princess, hat in hand, leads the way for the joyous company. She feels at home in the woods or in the mountains: they are her kingdom, and there her fancy is free. The following poem was composed on the 12th of September 1873, under the trees near the shooting-box:--

MY COMRADES.

“We dwelt together, where flows the Rhine, The forest and I and these songs of mine, In the days when my life was young. And we whispered low to the silver stream, When its ripples were kissed by the moon’s pure beam, What we fancied and dreamed and sung.

But a fateful hour there dawned for me, When I sought, afar from my comrades three, In the glittering east a home: Farewell, I cried, I am sad at heart, Ye friends of my childhood, for we must part; Will none of you with me come?

Then the Rhine and the forest shook each his head-- Too old to wander, are we, they said, Although we have held thee dear. But lo! when I reached this eastern land, The rhymes came round me, a merry band, For my songs had followed me here!”

Here in Sinaia Princess Elizabeth came into direct communication with the people, winning hearts and showering blessings everywhere. In order to encourage native industry she made up her mind to wear the Roumanian national costume during their summer residence in the Carpathians. All the ladies of the Court soon followed her example, and carried out the wish of their sovereign. One could imagine oneself transported into the middle of a fairy tale whilst a troop of lovely ladies, in glittering garments which glow with bright colours, suddenly appear on a hill-side or beside a mountain stream under mighty beech and fir-trees. There are dainty embroideries in gold and silver, golden head-dresses and long flowing veils which are picturesquely bound round the head and neck. The whole of this oriental costume has its charms enhanced by the lively southern temperament of the Roumanian ladies.

Princess Elizabeth has a motherly love and care for her ladies of honour, and leads quite a patriarchal family life with them. She is particularly fond of surrounding herself with young people. Young girls are constantly invited to spend some weeks at Sinaia, where they are allowed to share the laborious life of their mistress, who cannot bear to see any one sitting idle near her. Every one around the Princess must be in a state of constant activity. The pet name of “Whirlwind,” given to her in fun in her childhood, was also applied to her later by a relation. The Princess and her ladies write and read, make music, write poetry, work and paint together. She endeavours to awaken a love of nature in the minds of the young, and to enliven their walks with interesting conversations. The Princess is constant in her endeavours to awaken intellectual interests in her people, and hopes by this serious foundation to overcome the frivolous tone of society, and to train the mothers of the coming generation to a more ideal life. It is a lovely sight to see the Princess, in the becoming dress of the country, sitting under the trees with a circle of young girls around her, some of whom are closely pressed to her. The Princess either reads to them or discusses a charitable institution for the country, and sometimes a plan for a future poem. Then one sees beautiful brown eyes looking up at “Dòamna Elisabeta” with love and admiration. All freely express their thoughts and feelings. The Princess has been compared to the women of the Middle Ages, and called “Anne de Bretagne.” She is indeed a bright example of deep culture and feminine virtues to all women.

The little Princess Marie flourished and grew in this happy circle, and was a charming and peculiarly thoughtful child, as her mother had been. She was, as she is described in Carmen Sylva’s fairy tale, a “sunny child, full of grace and charm.” Happiness and love had been given to her as companions and playfellows. Joy and bliss, which no pen could describe or brush depict, then rained upon her. It was an endless May-day. “The mother watched her daughter’s happy games from a distance, and blessed the earth upon which her child was so radiantly happy.”

The happy time spent amid the solitudes of woods and mountains and in that fine air passed only too quickly. Life in the capital, with its many claims, had to be taken up again, but happiness remained. This feeling is expressed in the month of January 1872, in which the Princess writes to her mother:--“They talk of a costume ball: it amuses me immensely, for I have never seen anything of the sort, and think it must be like a charming fairy tale. We insist upon being young again, and having childish amusements! I am particularly pleased to be able to show that I am no Puritan, and can discuss ‘Chiffons,’ when something pretty is to be arranged. A great many people come to me for advice, as they know that Charles has treasures in the shape of old books and engravings. My quiet reading in the morning consoles me for the cutting up of the day. So I do not give my time to my correspondence, as I must prepare myself in order to help others with good advice, bad Roumanian, studies of costumes, and conversation.”