“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.”
Meanwhile much illness and constant fever had by degrees so weakened
the Princess that a change of air became necessary. In the middle of
March she had to start alone for Italy without her husband or child,
and attended only by her suite. In Rome she was to meet some relations.
Thousands had called after her “Intorceti sanatose” (Return in good
health) when she left her country. In May the Princess returned,
blooming in recovered health. The Prince had travelled to meet her, and
welcomed her on the Danube. “That was a romantic meeting,” she writes.
“I was on the _Stephen_, Charles on the _Romania_, gay with flags and
pennons. We flew towards one another in brilliant sunshine. Both of us
were standing on deck watching to see when the other eagerly expected
ship should appear. I saw the child two days later in Comana; she is
indeed charming. You cannot imagine what a sweet and affectionate
little being she is. If she embraces any one she says at once, ‘Make
all happy,’ and kisses all present. She is easy to educate, for she
is so unhappy when she has done something silly that one has to
comfort her. As soon as her heart is appealed to, all obstinacy and
contrariness disappear. She is also such a sensible and patient child,
and her blue eyes have such a deep gaze. What thoughts dwell behind
that high forehead, I wonder, which looks so promising? I think that
the love and joy of a mother will remain the same as long as the world
stands, and make up to one for all the trials and troubles of life. But
earthly happiness must be very delicately handled: it is very easily
shattered.”
The Princess of Wied no longer lived at Monrepos with Fräulein Lavater.
The Prince of Wied and his bride had made their home there. Only ten
minutes’ distance from there, and nearly on the same height, the
Princess had had a house built for herself. It is surrounded by woods,
and has a beautiful view on the Rhine, the mountains, towns, and
villages. After the village of Segendorf, which lies at the foot of the
hill, the house of the Princess was called Segen House. By means of the
silent, all-pervading spirit of love that reigns there, and the loving
and active sympathy of the Princess for all suffering and those who
were in need of help, the house soon became a real “Segenhaus” (House
of blessing) to all who cross its hospitable threshold. The current of
intellectual life has also accompanied the Princess of Wied to her new
home.
In the summer of 1873 Princess Elizabeth travelled thither with her
little daughter. It was the first time since her marriage that she had
seen her German home. The happiness of those weeks which she spent with
her mother, her brother and sister-in-law, and the dear old friends in
town and country, was unclouded. “Monrepos! Monrepos! the laughing,
rustling, and sweet-scenting forest welcomes me, and happy faces peer
at me through it. Yes, Monrepos was my Paradise!” She seemed to live
through her childhood and youth again with their deep joys and sorrows,
inward struggles and ultimate peace. Yes, happiness is not to be found
in an eternally blue sky, but in infinitesimally small things out of
which we shape our life ourselves.