Conclusion.
In conclusion, let us allow the last years of the life of the Queen to
unroll themselves before us.
Her strength had been overtaxed by the physical and moral strain
imposed upon her during the time of war, and constantly recurring
attacks of fever had weakened her. Early in the year 1882 the Queen was
attacked by severe illness.
For many weeks the royal lady was hanging between life and death.
The whole nation was full of anxiety and sympathy, and the love of
her people and the popularity her Majesty enjoyed was displayed in a
touching manner during this time. Poor women even, who had to work hard
for their daily bread, gave their little savings to the Church in order
to have a prayer said for the preservation of their beloved “Muma
Regina.” The Queen bore her dreadful sufferings heroically, and her
patience, gentleness, and solicitude for her attendants were beautiful
to witness. She always had a comforting and hopeful word for the King,
who scarcely left her bedside. The life of the Queen was saved by a
successful operation, and six weeks after she was once more standing at
her easel and illuminating on parchment.
But though restored to health, her Majesty was more than ever subject
to the pernicious influence of the climate, and the attacks of fever
returned in shorter intervals. Only a change of air could be of any
avail, but circumstances prevented the Queen leaving the country. At
last, in the spring of 1883, the King could accompany his consort to
Italy. In Sestri Ponente, on the Mediterranean, the Queen soon so far
recovered that she could travel to Neuwied and Segenhaus to complete
her cure there. The Dowager Princess of Wied had been seriously ill at
the same time. With what deep feelings mother and daughter met at last
can easily be imagined!
Queen Elizabeth spent nine weeks at the Segenhaus, where her native
air restored her youthful freshness and activity, and she could give
herself up entirely to the happiness of being again surrounded by her
nearest relations. These were, according to her expression, days that
had wings and were without a cloud. During her presence the little
castle on the heights of the Westerwald became a second Belriguardo.
One imagined oneself transported back to the time of the Medicis. Here
distinguished relations, artists and learned men, went in and out, and
often remained for days and weeks at Monrepos and Segenhaus. Alexandri,
the Roumanian poet, brought his new drama to read and discuss with
the Queen. Hallström, the Swedish composer, wished to lay before her
Majesty that part of the opera “Neaga” which he had finished composing.
The artist, Augustus Becker, came from Düsseldorf with his Roumanian
sketches, after which he was going to paint a large picture by the
King’s order. Karl Cauer, from Kreuznach, had made a bust of the Queen,
and wished to compare it with the original. In the studio at Monrepos,
Prince William and the Dutch artist, Bisschop, were painting a portrait
of the Queen. On his way back to Oxford, Professor Max Müller remained
at the Segenhaus for some days. Intercourse with this man of deep
thought and learning elevates one into the refined and intellectual
atmosphere in which he lives and thinks.
The Musical Festival of the Rhenish Provinces was to be held at
Cologne during this year. The Queen wished to be present at it. Since
that important day in which she and Prince Charles of Roumania had
been betrothed, she had not again seen the beautiful town on the
Rhine. Now the great creations of sound resounded in her ears, and the
recollections of past days were mightily awakened. The words of the
following song are so fresh, that it is as if, after sixteen years of
married life, bridal affection were still new to her heart.
“This is Apollo’s feast day,
But Eros strikes the lyre;
Though harmony must rule the hour,
Let Love my lay inspire.
For I, Apollo’s pilgrim,
To Love must turn aside;
The flowing melodies recall
The bridegroom and the bride.
When, Köln, thy walls embrace me,
To thee my thoughts incline;
Fain would I kneel and worship
As in some holy shrine.
I see thee clad in splendour,
And music fills thy halls;
But a maiden tremor frights me,
And the thought of my troth recalls.
O Köln, the free and lovely,
Where summer zephyrs play,
Was it the spell of thy music
That drove me so far away?
O Köln, the Rhine’s fair city,
My life is entwined in thee!
I came to list to thy minstrels,
And thou broughtest my King to me!”
Wonderfully beautiful were their wanderings through the beechwoods, the
mild summer evenings spent on the balcony of the castle, with its view
over the landscape glowing in the rich colours of sunset. Every bright
idea was turned into a poem or a song, and every deep thought was put
down in writing. The hours during which the Queen, either in the castle
or under the forest trees, read her poetry aloud to us, will ever dwell
in our memory. She is a perfect mistress of the art of reading aloud,
and the sweet tones of her melodious voice heightened the effect of
the dramatic situations and the deep feelings which she so graphically
describes. Those who had the high privilege of sharing the great
interest of these weeks can understand the charm which the so richly
endowed nature of the Queen exercises on all who are permitted to come
near her. This time spent in the Segenhaus was living poetry!
When Queen Elizabeth returned to her country and settled at Sinaia
for the hot summer months, the royal pair lived in the romantic old
monastery for the last time. The building of Castle Pelesch was
nearing its completion, and a railway now formed a communication
between Bucharest and Sinaia. Life and activity now reigned in the once
quiet valley of Prahova, for, following the example of their King, the
Roumanian nobles built themselves fine country houses on the slopes of
hills and in the shade of the forest. By degrees the little town of
Sinaia arose, whose arrangements now meet all the requirements of a
modern watering-place.
The royal castle, which is built in the style of German renaissance,
arises, surrounded by the forest, in a gorge at the foot of the
Caraiman mountain. This many-sided building, with its arched galleries
and balconies, is surmounted by numerous gables, towers, and turrets.
The inner building and arrangements of the castle are also very
practical, and the perfect artistic taste which reigns is visible in
every nook and cranny. Nothing is overdone, though all is carried out
in quite magnificent style. The walls of the grand staircase are richly
painted, and the panels of the inner apartments are sumptuously adorned
with bronzes and gobelin tapestry.
All the windows of this large building are enriched with painted glass,
through which alone the light of day penetrates into the wonderful
harmony of these apartments. The glass paintings in the music room
represent scenes from Roumanian legends which have been immortalised
by the poet Alexandri. On the walls are paintings representing Carmen
Sylva’s “Cycle of Fairy Tales,” whilst scenes from the Life of a
Knight adorn the dining-hall. The smoking-room in the principal tower,
arranged in old German style, is very cosy. But the greatest success is
the Queen’s studio, from the covered balconies of which one gazes into
the deep forests which cover the mountains. The poetical impression
of the castle is heightened when, with the twilight, electric light
radiates from the inside of the beautiful building, and lights up its
lofty chambers from outside, whilst the crystal drops of the little
lamps follow the lines of the architecture and make them bright. This
castle also is a poem which the royal pair have carried out together in
sweet concord.
“I, King Charles, have raised here
To the people that trusted and held me dear,
A kingdom amid the tumults of war:
In the time of peace my home, my star.”
On the 7th of October 1883 Castle Pelesch was solemnly consecrated in
the presence of the highest officials of the country.
After the documents which the Queen had painted had been signed, the
Metropolitan blessed the water brought to him whilst the choir sang.
Then the procession started and passed through the courtyard, thickly
strewn with the branches of fir, from which the scent of the forest was
wafted at every tread to the castle. The keys were solemnly handed over
to the King before the beautifully carved hall door.
His Majesty threw it open, and the Metropolitan first crossed the
threshold of the house. Followed by the royal pair and the long
procession of guests, and accompanied by songs of praise and prayer,
he walked through all the rooms. Whilst scattering drops of holy water
about them, he consecrated the house and prayed for the blessing of God.
When the King had brought out a toast to Roumania at the banquet which
followed, he added these words--“Confident in the possession of the
love of my people, I have here erected a house of my own. It shall
stand as a lasting proof of the firm footing which my dynasty has
attained in this country. The Roumanian people are to see herein a
monument of the unlimited confidence with which I look forward to the
future of our beloved fatherland.”
In the name of the Roumanian nation Alexandri brought out the
congratulations of the people with the verse with which in ancient
times the peasants had celebrated the entrance into the new home of
their princes and nobles.
“As many stones and beams,
So many treasures and conquests.
As many grains of sand,
So many happy days.
The sun shall warm it,
And the winds strengthen it.”
“May the blessing of God and the love of the people forever dwell
within the walls of this house.”
The blessing of the poet has come true! The progress made by the State,
which is developing in all respects, and is full of life and power, are
remarkable. The King has appointed a sum from his privy purse for a
Lexicon of the Academy, which is to be a standard of the language to be
employed in writing. In thousands of schools the lectures in Roumanian
are held free of charge. The King has also founded a Geographical
Society. A longing for culture, for the furthering of the national
interest, has taken hold of all classes of the Roumanian people. A net
of railways overspreads the country, an active commerce binds Roumania
to the rest of Europe, and a mighty army stands in readiness to protect
the native hearth. At the glorious storming of the Grivitza fort of
Plevna the youthful army first showed its powers.
On the 11th of September 1877 the Roumanians had, exposed to a
heavy artillery fire, three times endeavoured in vain to take the
fortifications of Grivitza. They were always thrown back by the
courageous stand their enemies made. The battlefield was covered with
the dead and wounded. Then Prince Carol galloped up to his troops,
shouting, “Forward to victory, my children.” Inspired by the presence
and the voice of their heroic leader, the brave men of the second
battalion of Chasseurs again stormed the Turkish bulwarks, and before
the evening came on the Roumanian flag waved on the fort of Grivitza!
Nearly all the officers, and half of the men, had bought the victory
with their life.
In the East the number seven is a sacred number. Therefore the seventh
anniversary of this memorable day, the 11th of September 1884, was to
be celebrated with peculiar solemnity at Sinaia.
The bells of the monastery chapel were tolling. Round about the
courtyard of the monastery stood the second battalion of Chasseurs
eagerly awaiting the arrival of the royal pair, who were descending
from the castle to the cloister attended by a large suite. The flag of
Roumania, adorned with its star, and torn to shreds in the battles,
was lowered upon the entrance of the royal pair, who now entered the
church. Within resounded a solemn mass for the fallen and a song of
praise for the victory won. Without, in the court of the monastery,
the military band played the poem written by Th. Körner, and composed
by Hummel--“Father I call to Thee.” On undertaking the government the
King had chosen this as the prayer of the army, and since then it is
regularly played on great occasions.
At the close of the service the troops defiled before the King. Then
they marched in a long procession through the splendid beech and
fir woods to a height which commanded a view over the whole valley.
There the camp of tents was erected. Before a triumphal arch the
Mayor presented the Queen with a bouquet of roses in the name of the
battalion of Chasseurs, and to the sound of the National Hymn the royal
pair proceeded to the middle of the camp. Here stood two tents, one
arranged for the royal banquet, the other for the soldiers. The royal
tent was decorated with the innate taste of the Roumanians for the
beautiful. From the outside only green branches and ferns were to be
seen, amidst which the entwined initials of the royal pair appeared.
Within, the tent was ornamented with some of the Queen’s mottoes
which related to a soldier’s life and heroic deeds, and which the
officers had translated into Roumanian. There were also verses by the
poet Alexandri, who had written them when the people were under arms.
Amongst them appeared the names of the Roumanians who had fallen whilst
storming the fort of Grivitza. Martial music was played during the
repast, and a crowd of people in the beautiful costume of the country
surrounded the tents. At a given signal the joyous strains ceased, and
the soldiers stood before the tent of their King.
Amidst perfect silence, and in a voice which was heard from far, the
King harangued his Chasseurs as to the meaning and the fame of this
ever-memorable day, and ended with the words--
“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.”
* * * * *
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!
* * * * *
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.
* * * * *
We have learnt to know Carmen Sylva’s old and new home, and have
followed her through happy and sorrowful days. We have seen that
she has inherited her rich treasures of heart and mind from noble
ancestors. Her enthusiastic love of nature and her interest in all its
phenomena does not belie her descent from the princely family of Wied.
She has a decided gift for music, painting, and poetry, with a leaning
towards philosophical thought, as also an unbiassed judgment and great
modesty, notwithstanding the richness of her creative fancy.
We have also gathered that the Queen has qualities which she not only
expresses in her poetry, but that an ideal is carried out in her life.
By means of this all-pervading and elevating power which her Majesty
possesses, and with which she influences others, this idea has been
developed in her labours as a Princess and as a Queen. As a woman, as
a Princess, and as a Queen, she is to be reckoned amongst the noblest
and most distinguished of her sex. “For not in what we experience, but
in our manner of understanding and realising it, lies the deep meaning
of human life and what it brings to us. Not many and various events
constitute its richness, for in the midst of them it can be empty and
vain, and, though outwardly monotonous, it can yet be perpetually
changing and abundantly blest. The better we understand this, the more
will life itself be our educator and schoolmaster, whose influence
over us will be stronger than any other. Well does Goethe say as the
conclusion of his deepest and most magnificent conception--
“All things transitory
But as symbols are sent.”