Chapter XIII: Conclusion 274 (6)

The Emperor Alexander of Russia had arrived on a visit to the princely pair at Bucharest, on the 25th of June, accompanied by the Grand Dukes, the Chancellor, the Ministers of War, Ignatieff, and other high personages, all coming from Plojest. “It was certainly one of the most interesting days for Roumania,” the Princess writes in a letter, “and I enjoyed it very much in the feeling that I am helping to act a piece of history. The reception of the Emperor was enthusiastic, and we were literally buried under the quantities of roses thrown. From one balcony roses and golden tinsel were scattered together. I have never seen anything more beautiful, and shall not forget the picture.” The Prince writes--“I am proud of Elizabeth, who does the honours charmingly. The Emperor, the Grand Dukes, and all the Russians are charmed with her, and say that she reminds them of the Grand Duchess Hélène.”

This visit of the Emperor, immediately after the declaration of the independence of Roumania, was an event of great importance. By his appearance in Bucharest his Majesty had sanctioned the political position of the country at that time. After the repulse of the first Russian attacks on Plevna, the Roumanian divisions, under the command of the Prince, crossed the Danube and joined the Russian army. As soon as it was settled that Roumania was to take an active part in the war, Princess Elizabeth made all the arrangements required to mitigate the horrors of it.

In thus undertaking the office of a sister of charity, the Princess demonstrated that this was the vocation of every woman at such a time, and her example was cheerfully followed by the Roumanian ladies in the most unselfish and self-sacrificing manner. The vast throne-room had been transformed into a centre of loving service. At the command of the Princess, and with her active help, linen and bandages were prepared. In the halls where the official receptions were usually held, and where hundreds of people danced to the sound of Strauss’ Waltzes, the wheels of the sewing-machines were now in ceaseless motion. Women of all ranks and nationalities went in and out, vieing with each other to supply the troops, now actively engaged with the enemy, with all sorts of necessaries. Many poor peasant women also came to the Princess saying--“Your Highness has supplied us with wood and work for years, and now we will work for a week for the Red Cross without wages.”

The Princess had to accept their services in order not to hurt their feelings. At her own expense the Princess reared a hospital for one hundred beds in the park at Cotroceni, which was to be under her own supervision--“As she wished to nurse her children herself.” The Princess also worked unceasingly in all the other hospitals which she had organised. She awaited and received every train which brought in the wounded from the field of battle, and nursed and tended them unwearyingly, without giving herself a thought. Day and night the Princess was at work, refreshing the weary and comforting and encouraging the sick. She helped to bind up the wounds herself, and did not even recoil from those at sight of which even men could not help shuddering. How many of the dying received the last words of comfort from her lips! Many of them would only take chloroform from her hands, and she alone could persuade many of the wounded to undergo the necessary amputations. The pride of the Roumanian soldier rebelled against going through life like a cripple, without a leg or an arm. “I would rather die than look like a beggar!” exclaimed a young soldier in despair whose leg was to be taken off. But the Princess came to his bedside and besought him to remember that a long life might still lie before him, and to let the operation take place. “For your sake, Regina, it shall be done!” he murmured. Obstacles that none could surmount were overcome by a kind word from the beloved Princess. She exercised a great moral power over the poor sufferers.

“What a satisfaction it must be to your Serene Highness,” wrote a lady of the Court to the Princess of Wied, “to know how our beloved Princess is fulfilling her duty as mother to her country. Your beloved daughter goes from one bedside to another, and has a word of comfort for each and all of the sick and wounded, encouraging the down-hearted and praising and thanking all that had distinguished themselves by their bravery. She has such a wonderful power over them that she wins a smile from all, even those that are suffering acutely or sorrowing over a lost limb.”

And with what enthusiasm the soldiers looked up to their Princess! What an expression of joy shone in the wan features of the sufferers when she came near them! And when they were restored to health, the grateful sons of the soil told of the good Dòamna Elisabeta in their humble homes in the valleys and mountains of the Carpathians. Since that time the people call the Princess “Muma Ranitilor,” the Mother of the Wounded. At this time of danger, when the greatest demands were made upon her powers, the strength of this exalted woman seemed to be doubled. Thus she again displayed her innate administrative talent. Quiet and self-composed when others were passionate and despairing, the Princess never lost her presence of mind, but was able to direct and control even the most perplexing affairs. Being unable to sleep for more than two or three hours, because of her dreadful anxiety as to the fate of the Prince and the army, Princess Elizabeth often made music and wrote poetry half the night for her relaxation. At four in the morning she was often wandering up and down and ordering in her mind her heavy work for the day.

Many battles had been fought, and much blood had been shed on the field. The heroic army of Roumania had borne off new victories when Rahova and Grivitza were taken. Prince Charles undertook the command of a Russo-Roumanian army which was drawn up around Plevna. His troops fought with the courage of lions, notwithstanding the dreadful losses they sustained, and performed prodigies of valour when Prince Charles, shouting “May God help us!” led them wherever the battle was at its fiercest. Plevna had fallen, and Osman Pasha surrendered. On the 10th of December 1877 the Prince of Roumania entered into Plevna amidst the indescribable enthusiasm of his troops. At seven o’clock in the evening he proceeded to Poradim to report to the Emperor on the results of that wonderful day.

The Prince had been brave and courageous as a soldier, but cautious and wary as the commander of an army. As a strategist he had often been in a position to show that he knew how to lead his troops. The people regarded him with the greatest enthusiasm as the champion of their freedom. Immeasurable sacrifices had been bought, and a time of great anxiety had been passed through; but the Roumanians thought of the future, and comforted themselves with what history has so often demonstrated, “that the freedom of a country is only to be dearly bought on fields of battle.” The independence of Roumania had now been acknowledged by all European States. All classes of the people were proudly conscious that their freedom and independence had been bravely won.

The occupation of Widdin had been the crowning act of the Roumanian army. After that had been accomplished they left the fields of Bulgaria, where so many of their comrades had found a grave, and returned to their hearths and homes.

The strength of the Princess had lasted as long as it was so urgently required. But when peace was assured, the misery lessened, and the last occupants of the hospital had left, her Highness broke down completely. Only in strengthening mountain air could she hope to restore her shattered health. So the Court was again removed to the old monastery of the Carpathians in Sinaia.

During her stay there the Princess received a very touching proof of the gratitude of her people.

It was on a Sunday. The excursion train had brought over more than one thousand people to Sinaia, of which the greater number streamed to see the new castle which was building, to the forest and the valley of the Pelesch. Suddenly a woman clothed in black advanced to meet the Princess. She seemed to wish to offer her something which she held in her outstretched hand. Princess Elizabeth, who imagined it was a petition, was going to accept it in the usual way. But with that dignity which distinguishes the Roumanian people the woman stepped back, saying, “Oh, no; I do not want anything. I am the widow of a tradesman, and have no daughter to whom I can leave the family jewellery which we have treasured for many generations. But you are the mother of the poor and the wounded, and have done us so much good. I know of no one worthier than you to wear the precious treasure, and I pray you to accept it, for I would offer it to you.” Upon this she handed a gold bracelet of ancient Roman coins to the Princess. Surprised and deeply touched, the royal lady received this tribute of the love of her people with the warmest thanks--that bracelet is regarded as one of the most treasured ornaments of the Princess, for the love and gratitude of their people is the brightest jewels of their rulers.

After some time the health of the Princess Elizabeth was so far restored that she could risk being present at the fêtes of victory.

The streets of Bucharest were gaily decorated on the 20th of October 1878, for Prince Charles, the hero of the people, was to enter the capital at the head of his victorious army. Garlands of flowers were hung from one house to another. A figure of Victory stood on the high triumphal arch, the so well deserved laurel wreath in her right hand. It was a lovely autumnal day, and from early morning the streets were filled with crowds of people eager to welcome the troops. Bands of music marched at the head of the procession, followed by a detachment of slightly wounded soldiers. Behind them fifty-six cannons rattled on, each bearing the name of the place where it had been captured. And then Prince Charles himself appeared. Who shall describe the shouts and acclamations which greeted him, and who count the wreaths which were thrown at his approach! His look was firm and yet gentle, and on that day he must have realised that his labours had not been in vain. The hearty welcome accorded to him showed more than all the flags and garlands that he had become the idol of his people.

The troops followed their commander who had led them to victory with songs and cheers. Princess Elizabeth appeared in their midst in an open carriage, before which countless flowers were thrown by her grateful people. And what the soldiers sang was a war-song composed by their Princess. It had inspired them in the midst of many battles, and the following translation will give an idea of it:--

THE WATCH BY THE DANUBE.

“Oh! doubt not and fear not, my Fatherland,
My sword shall protect thee and shield thee,
Though the cannon-roar of the hostile band
Should summon thy sons to yield thee.
Press onward to battle, for freedom’s our aim,
King Carol is with us, he leads us to fame!

The Danube she loves us, she bears us along
To the battlefield’s daring and danger,
And the billows they murmur, ‘Ye heroes, be strong,
And drive out the Mussulman stranger.’
Press onward to battle, for freedom’s our aim,
King Carol is with us, he leads us to fame!

Then doubt not, and fear not, my Fatherland,
For my strong right arm shall save thee;
I’ll first cross my brow, and then, sword in hand,
I’ll shatter the chains that enslave thee.
Press onward to battle, for freedom’s our aim,
King Carol will lead us to vict’ry and fame.”

The 20th of October was a great day for free Roumania. The Princess writes:--“What a year has ended! At first I had sufficient courage to sustain all, and inspired all with my confidence. It was a difficult position for a woman alone, I can assure you. I forgot my anxiety in the amount of work I had to get through. Let us thank God that Charles has returned, for now I can creep back slowly into my nutshell, and return to my flowers, my birds, my books, and my papers. I think it is an anomaly and a misfortune when a woman is induced by circumstances to take part in public life. But there were many bright spots in this difficult time. God will surely help us, and a lasting peace will take away the anxiety which is gnawing at our hearts, and this important time will belong to the future, in which sorrow and suffering is modified, and the great results that are won thereby will be brought out into strong relief. Charles is truly wonderful! I often compare him to William the Silent or to King Charles on his sea voyage. The bitterest experiences only make him colder and calmer. He shrugs his shoulders and forgives every ingratitude. That all misunderstand him in no way disconcerts him. When he is dead they will lament and call him ‘a wise Prince.’”

When the war was over, the wives of all the officers of the Roumanian army presented the “Mother of their Country” with a marble statue. In this the Princess is represented in the costume of a Sister of Charity as she kneels before a wounded soldier, reaching him a refreshing draught. The recollection of what the Princess accomplished during this war, by giving up herself and all her strength to the work, and by her wonderful talent for organisation, will dwell with many feelings of deep gratitude in the hearts of her people, and one generation will tell another of her noble and self-sacrificing deeds.

In 1879 Princess Elizabeth had been in Scheveningen with her mother, and had returned strengthened and refreshed to her country. In the next year (1880) the princely pair went to Segenhaus and Amsterdam together. Many relations also came to visit them at Bucharest and Sinaia, amongst others Prince William of Wied, and Prince Leopold of Hohenzollern, with his two sons, Ferdinand and Charles. In September 1881 the Princess of Hohenzollern (mother of Prince Charles of Roumania) travelled to Roumania for the first time, and was received with great joy by the people. “It is too delightful,” writes the Princess, “to have such an angel of a mother in her. She is always surrounded by an atmosphere of harmony and tenderness which is quite fascinating. The monks in Sinaia, when she arrived there, were very anxious to know which place should be given to her at table, and when they were told ‘the place of honour,’ they joyfully exclaimed--‘That is what King Solomon did when his mother came to him; he seated her on his throne, knelt down before her and kissed her hand. Our King Charles does the same, whom may God bless and preserve to a long life!’ Is this not prettier than many a village tale!” On the 12th of December 1880 the Princess continues--“A very touching scene was enacted lately. The Ministers came to thank us for having settled the question of succession. Bratiano read his speech with tears in his eyes, after which I gave him my hand, and he said--‘Etre brave dans un moment d’enthousiasme c’est beau, mais être brave à froid c’est de l’héroisme!’”

On the 24th of March 1881 Roumania was declared a kingdom by Act of Parliament. Demeter Stourdza, the Minister for Foreign Affairs, wrote to the Princess of Wied--“A happy fate indeed guides Roumania, for the most complicated affairs turn out to be for her good. This so constant shining of our lucky star quite frightens me. A sense of duty, a love of duty, and a strict performance of one’s duty, must keep it bright, and prevent it from fading before us. On the 22nd of May the whole country is to do homage to its sovereign, and a kingly crown, with a battle-axe which has been made out of a cannon taken at Plevna, are to be presented to the Prince, as a symbol of the great events of the war and his newly-acquired position.” Prince Leopold of Hohenzollern had come to Bucharest with his two sons, Ferdinand and Charles, to take part in this festive occasion.

The evening before the day of this ceremonial salvoes of artillery had been fired. Multitudes of people streamed into the town to see the coronation, forming a motley crowd. The two crowns had been taken to the cathedral with much pomp and ceremony. There they were received by the metropolitans, bishops, and minor clergy, who were chanting solemnly, and placed on tables draped with red before the sacred images. At the close of a short service these insignia of royalty were respectfully kissed by the minister and the clergy. They were then covered with the glorious monuments of the siege of Plevna. These were four flags of the Roumanian army which were torn to shreds and decorated with the highest orders of the country. These emblems of royalty remained in the Metropolia all night, whilst a guard of honour kept watch around them.

Early in the morning of the 22nd of May 1881, the little girls from the Asyle Hélène, adorned with flowers, advanced in long rows through the park of Cotroceni and sang a morning hymn before the castle. It seemed a happy omen to the Queen that the first words of love which reached her on this memorable day resounded from her little favourites as she awoke. At eight o’clock in the morning already the houses and tiers of seats erected in the town were filled with people, who crowded every available space on the somewhat long way to the cathedral, and were all anxious to see the sights.

According to the programme the procession to the coronation was to be short. It started at eleven o’clock, and was opened by a regiment of Dorobanzes, whose bands were playing. They formed the Landwehr of Roumania, and were the most popular of the troops, being all tried and experienced men, richly adorned with orders and medals. On their heads they wear the traditional fur cap of the warrior Michel, which is adorned with the feathers of turkeys, herons, and pheasants. These were followed by a company of gendarmes and a squadron of hussars, and then came the standard-bearers of all the colours of the army, with a golden Roman eagle surmounting them. Enthusiastic cheering and the waving of hats and handkerchiefs greeted the King as he appears mounted on his charger and surrounded by his brilliant staff. The energy of a firm character appears in his strongly marked features.

After this came the State carriage of the Queen. It was harnessed à la Daumont, and drawn by eight black horses, their harness adorned with feathers, and ridden by jockeys who wore the colours of the country. A large basket of flowers stood on the box of the carriage, as well as on the seat behind, and on the steps. Four footmen in State liveries marched on each side of the carriage, and in front were two outriders whose horses bore feathers of three colours. The slight form of the Queen, clad in magnificent coronation robes, appeared poetic as that of a fairy in this carriage draped with red and filled to overflowing with flowers. Beside her sat the hereditary Prince of Hohenzollern, and the two young Princes opposite. At sight of her the hundreds of thousands of spectators burst into loud shouts of joy, which were carried on like echoes from balcony to balcony. Branches of fir, the symbols of respect and hospitality, and flowers sparkling with golden powder, were thrown to the Queen from the windows, and white doves adorned with flowers were set free by their owners, and fluttered over the Queen, who was radiant with beauty and grace. Many of these reached their destination, the beautiful carriage, to which they clung like messengers of peace.

All the magnificence and the sumptuous furnishings of this romantic procession was concentrated at the foot of the Metropolitan Hill, from whence the royal pair, followed by their suites, proceeded on foot along the avenue, where a scarlet carpet was laid to the church. The representatives of three thousand country parishes, with their pennons, had arranged themselves in closely packed rows on each side of the carriage. Dressed in their original national costume, these made a brilliant background to the imposing picture. A large stand in the shape of a horse-shoe had been erected in front of the principal entrance to the church, which had long before the arrival of their Majesties been filled with the nobility and gentry of Roumania. In the middle of this stand stood the royal tent, to which a carpeted staircase led.

The royal pair, with the Prince of Hohenzollern, had taken their places. Then the religious ceremony began, and was celebrated with all the pomp of the orthodox Greek Church. During the singing four generals carried the two crowns from the interior of the church to the royal tent, where they were consecrated, and their Majesties received the holy water. The close of this solemn occasion was the signing of the document which Demeter Bratiano laid before their Majesties. Afterwards the deed was signed by Prince Leopold of Hohenzollern, and the Minister Bratiano, who acted as witnesses of the weighty affair of state which had just been concluded. Thundering salvoes of artillery announced that this historic ceremony was concluded. The return of their Majesties was like a triumphal procession. Quantities of flowers were showered upon them, and the waving of handkerchiefs reminded one of a swarm of butterflies, which seemed to follow the procession. Endless rows of carriages containing the guests and the diplomatic corps followed the principal actors in the scene, all returning to the Palace at about three o’clock.

Many groups of peasant women from Plojest and Campulung had stationed themselves amongst the people who crowded into the open space before the grand entrance to the Palace. They are the cream of the district of the Carpathians. On this occasion they insisted on being noticed by the Queen, for it was widely known that her Majesty delighted in the national costume of the country, and the women were proud to show themselves to her in their richest dress, the ornaments of which sparkled in the sun like thousands of little plates of glass.

Half an hour later the immense procession bearing the two crowns to the Palace advanced in almost unending length. The veterans of 1848 and those that had been wounded in the last war marched first, whilst the ten thousand members of the deputations of the peasants formed the rearguard. The doors of the vast throne-room had been opened wide, and sixty standard-bearers, with the flags and banners of the army, were ranged around it. The sounds of the triumphal march were heard from afar, and the crowns, borne by four generals, and accompanied by a solemn procession of the chief officers of State, were placed at the foot of the throne. At half-past two the royal pair appeared, and were solemnly conducted to the throne by the Senate and the Members of Parliament. On their left stood Prince Leopold of Hohenzollern; on their right, his sons. Prince Demeter Ghica addressed their Majesties, and presented the iron crown to the King, whilst Rossetti, the President of the Houses of Parliament, advanced towards the Queen, and kneeling before her, offered her a golden crown, with the following words--“In your Majesty the nation sees itself most gloriously represented.” Then the King began an eloquent speech whilst lifting up the crown and bearing it aloft over his people as though he were blessing them. He spoke of the steady progress of Roumania and of her brave army, and closed with the words--“The love and confidence of the nation, whose happiness and increasing power is my all absorbing thought and that of the Queen, was and ever will be our most precious diadem.” At these words from their King, the vast concourse assembled gave vent to their feelings of love and enthusiasm by an irresistible outburst of shouts of applause.

The deputations of peasants now passed before the throne. These honest men were visibly affected, and many among them wiped a tear from his eye with his rough hand. Most of them threw themselves at the feet of their Majesties, and did homage to them, kissing the steps of their throne. With touching simplicity and much difficulty others threw addresses of congratulation out of their pockets, coat-sleeves, and pocket-books, depositing them at the feet of the royal pair; whilst others brought branches of fir-trees which they had gathered in their native mountains and anxiously preserved during their long journey. Later in the day, the whole concourse of the country people were encamped before the town, where a banquet with music awaited them, the enjoyment of which was heightened by the presence and affable manners of the King. There was a brilliant illumination in the evening. The peasants were enchanted “to see the sun at night,” as they expressed themselves! And the Court with its guests found it difficult to wend its way through the elated crowds.

Notwithstanding her delicate health the Queen had borne the fatigues of that day tolerably. She says--“We spoke with eight hundred people on that day, from eleven o’clock till half-past four, and at half-past eight we were again ‘sous les armes!’ Then came a procession of torches, and a drive round the town to see the illuminations. At last I could not bow any more, but only wave with my handkerchief. Fortunately they had stopped the cheering, as I could stand it no longer. This enormous and now silent crowd, which greeted us and nodded and waved in the most demonstrative manner, and the stamping of those feet and hoofs which one did not see, made a most weird and charming impression. Yes, from morning to night, the 22nd of May was a beautiful day!” Seldom has a day been marked with so much fervour and unaffected devotion as this day on which the people of Roumania came in such crowds to do homage to their King! This day has become a day of national rejoicing for the Roumanians. On the 22nd of May 1866 Prince Charles of Roumania first entered Bucharest. Eleven years later, on the 22nd of May 1877, Roumania was declared independent. And on the 22nd of May 1881 the first King of Roumania was crowned. These three historically important events make clear to us in a few words the gradual development of this young kingdom.

Thus Roumania had not alone gained her independence by means of the war and its brilliant results, but had been incorporated as a kingdom amongst the European States. A strictly constitutional monarch is the emblem of the banner which Prince Charles upholds at his distant post. The object of his life is to strengthen his country within and without, and to further its political and social development. Future generations only will be able to understand and acknowledge to its full extent all that he has done for Roumania.

XI.

Work for the Country.

In the second half of this century, royal ladies have realised that their duty consisted in actively promoting all works of charity and encouraging them by their influence, as well as furthering the social and educational welfare of their people. And that this practical knowledge which can adapt itself to circumstances can be combined with ideal interests and high endeavours, is demonstrated by the noble and beautiful example of Queen Elizabeth of Roumania. It is the highest joy of artistic natures to see one of their own conceptions carried out and to find it flourish and expand. In this the educator is to be compared to the artist, for character is formed by the educational artist. A longing desire to educate others had possessed Queen Elizabeth from earliest youth. When we see her making the education of children one of her first objects, we know that it is prompted by true and heartfelt feelings.

The Queen follows the course of studies and the development of the pupils in the Asyle Hélène, the orphanage already alluded to, with peculiar interest. The well-known Doctor Davela had founded and endowed this institution with his private means, and conducted it personally for many years aided by his excellent wife. Both died too soon. They bequeathed their care for the orphans as a legacy to the Queen. Four hundred and sixty young girls are now educated there from their fifth to their twentieth year. There they are taught all sciences, the arts, foreign languages, needlework, book-keeping, &c., and remain in the institution till they have passed their final examination as governesses or otherwise. The good name of this institution is so widely known that young men look for a wife from the Asyle Hélène, as they know she will be capable. Many merchants, clergymen, and schoolmasters come to the Principals of the College and ask them as a favour to recommend a young girl to them whom they consider fit for their mode of life. A meeting is arranged, and if the young people suit one another, they are usually married in the Chapel of the Asyle. If the pupils marry clergymen or schoolmasters, most of them become teachers in their new home, and are capable of earning three hundred francs a month.

The Queen does not often visit the institutions--“And then only to encourage and help them.” “For I find,” she says, “that we do well to let those act who understand the matter better than we do. The Grand Duchess Hélène, who is my example, displayed her interest in such things by caring for every detail rather than by visiting them.” The royal lady is present at all the examinations in the girls’ school, as well as at the School of Music. She awards the prizes with her own hands, and increases their value by kind and considerate words which delight both teachers and scholars.

The Queen founded a School of Embroidery, “The Scola Elisabeta Doamna,” at her own expense. At this institution seventy of the poorest peasant girls receive free instruction in reading and writing, and especially in the national embroidery. Very beautiful patterns, mostly Byzantine, are collected and used to decorate the national costumes. The peasant girls often copy the patterns on ancient ecclesiastical robes, or imitate a natural flower with a needle and thread. Certain styles of embroidery are hereditary and peculiar to each district. Thus many and original combinations are formed, and the eye is attracted by their ever-varying colour and form. All Roumanian women, whether high or lowly, have an inborn and highly cultivated eye for colour. They execute minute and difficult patterns most tastefully upon the peculiar linen woven in the country.

The first society for the help of the poor which the Queen arranged was the “Société Elisabeth.” It distributes yearly thirty thousand francs’ worth of fuel to the poor. This society, to which about one hundred ladies belong, arranges two to four balls every winter, which take place in the Opera House with a Tombala. These balls are honoured by the presence of the King and Queen and the members of the aristocracy. All the ladies wear the Roumanian costume on these evenings, in order that the peasant women may earn a good sum in winter by the sale of their embroideries. Under the patronage of the Queen societies of the same description have sprung up in many parts of the country.

Not only does the large charitable association “Société de bienfaisance” owe its origin to the Queen, but her Majesty has also started the German “Frauenverein” in Roumania. “The Albina” gives work to poor women who can only do rough sewing. Ten years ago this idea was started by six poor women thus finding employment--now a thousand can get work there. A hundred and thirty of these have already bought sewing-machines, and the numbers increase daily. Now (1888) they furnish thirty thousand tents for the army, and sew all trousers, shirts, cravats, sheets, and sacks for the soldiers, as well as for the prisons and hospitals. When wood is distributed to the poor by the Société Elisabeth, these women are considered first. A fourth society is called “Concordia,” and its object is to encourage all branches of native industry in the country, amongst which weaving is especially furthered. Although hemp grows wild in Roumania, all material for the linen used by the army and the public institutions had till then been brought from foreign countries. New Schools of Weaving are instituted, and the looms that have been idle for years have been improved and put in motion. In order to carry out these plans for the benefit of the country, the Queen had written a letter to the Ministers, which was published in the newspapers. In this letter she sought their help in encouraging weaving in the country, and guaranteeing that the State would undertake the goods produced. This object could only be attained if the requirements of the army, the hospitals, and prisons could be produced and manufactured in the country.

As we have already mentioned whilst describing the “Société Albina,” its efforts have been crowned with success. On the tableland of Cotroceni, not far from the Asyle Hélène, lie the huge barracks in which Queen Elizabeth nursed the wounded during the war. The new School of Weaving is established there for the present. At first only forty looms could be employed, but Parliament has voted two hundred thousand francs for the building of a new School for Weaving. The building required is to be erected on the great piece of land before the barracks which King Charles had presented to the orphanage. “We shall then use the barracks for the manufacture of silk,” writes the Queen, “for which the land has been planted with mulberry trees. So one school after another will be erected around us, following my motto, ‘Industry in the home,’ and will, please God, open out new sources of wealth to our country.”

To the “Concordia” is added the Society of the “Fornica,” which buys Roumanian work only, such as embroidery, and the stuffs that are woven and spun, and sells them again in a bazaar held for the purpose. The peasant women bring the shirts they have sewn, and their strips of embroidery, and bless their Queen for having brought such honour to their national costume. Branches of this institution have sprung up in many towns. They embroider a great deal in the mountains, as they have less hard work in the fields there. In the plains, the women can only embroider in the winter, as they must guide the oxen in the plough in summer. In the workshop of the little mountain town of Campo Lungo four hundred women are employed.

In imitation of the German kitchens for the people, the Queen has arranged soup kitchens in many parts of the town, where the poor children from the Schools of Embroidery receive their daily dinners from her.

During the war the Queen also started a Home for Nursing Sisters at her own expense. She began with two sisters, of whom she sent one to the Deaconesses of Bethany at Berlin to be taught. The Deaconesses of Bucharest wear a dark grey costume, with a white veil and apron, which are picturesquely arranged. A black cross on a lilac ribbon is worn round the neck. “Now there are more than twenty of them at Bucharest, and they increase in numbers, and are much thought of. Many of them lately passed their examinations, and received certificates for practising simple surgery. They nurse in hospitals and private houses for five francs a day, and are often sent for in the town. The rich often give more than is asked, which enables the sisters to visit the poor free of charge, and to bring them food and medicine. Now five thousand francs have been voted for the School of Embroidery, and twenty thousand for the Home for the Sisters. We hope to build a house of our own with our savings, with a little hospital beside it, and to have something over for aged and infirm sisters. I shall add to this a School for Monthly Nurses, as so many women die in their confinement.”

Queen Elizabeth belongs to those highly favoured ladies who, though surrounded by the pomp and state of royalty, can sympathise with the sorrows of the poor and suffering, and combine with this a lofty ideal of the intellectual duties of life. The Queen does not weary of helping where help is required. None appeal to her in vain if they are really in need. Where poverty is to be relieved, or cares to be lightened, the Queen’s practical mind ever finds the right means and the best manner of doing it. Her constant endeavour is to promote the cultivation and industry of the country, and to awake a feeling of self-confidence in the nation. To work for others is the source of her own happiness. The following poem will show how anxious the Queen is to fulfil her duties towards the country.

THE PEOPLE’S MOTHER.

“If millions call thee their mother, and borrow
Of thee some comfort in grief and care,
E’en though thou too hast known pain and sorrow,
Yet never, never must thou despair.

Thou must stand firm and thy heart must fail not,
While breakers roar through the tempest wild,
Calm words of faith on thy lips, that pale not,
And on thy forehead hope’s radiance mild.

Thou must behold, with a gaze undaunted,
The dark abyss, that no mists conceal,
Thy head upraised, thy foot firmly planted,
Thy hand aye open to help and heal.

All thoughts of self must be banished ever,
Thy people’s life must thine own life be.
The voice of passion--oh! heed it never,
Thou may’st lead millions to rise with thee.

If anguish conquer, or sin enslave them,
If poor and lowly or nobly born--
All are thy children, forgive and save them,
The sick, the sinful, the weak and worn.

Let then thy bounty, unchecked, unending,
Flow forth, a blessing o’er all the land,
Like dews from Heaven on earth descending,
Refresh thy people with heart and hand.”

XII.

Carmen Sylva.

The poetical talents of Queen Elizabeth, which she was so anxious to hide from public view, have proved beneficial to her vocation as mother of her country. A critic might perhaps object to the absence of strict rules in her poetry, but we rejoice to find such originality in thought and feeling. The royal lady writes of what she has thought and felt in a vivid and life-like manner. A desire to communicate her feelings to others induces her to write poetry. She says,--“When a thought takes possession of me, it is not that I will, but I must put it into words, and insert it in a poem, or it leaves me no peace. How often have I bitterly bewailed my poetic talent, and rebelled against Providence for placing such a burden upon my shoulders; and now I know that it is my greatest happiness, and a blessing to me which can also give pleasure to others. My greatest wish is to write in such a manner that all may think they have written it themselves. I do not wish to be anything more than the voice which clothes the truth in acceptable forms and takes all its harshness from it. Thus I can ease many a heart of its burden, and what happiness it is to show the beauties of truth, to realise and represent the beautiful.

“‘Like an eagle the poet, as bold and as free,
And warm as the glow of the sunshine must be;
Like the sensitive plant he must tremble and quake,
Now wild as a torrent, now calm as a lake.’

“The outer forms of what one writes have only to do with what one has learnt. The ideas have to be lived through, and can only be based on the past experiences which formed one’s character. This is my comfort when I tremble lest my talent should come to an end. It is not at an end, for I yet live and learn. How often I have struggled against writing anything down for weeks and months. But it holds me as a spell till it is written down. Then I forget it, and so utterly and entirely that I often do not even recognise my own thoughts. After all, writing is only a discharge of electricity. But the battery cannot be properly replenished when the body is weakened. Every carefully finished work is a step upon which one can set one’s foot firmly and safely in order to rise higher. This can only be, of course, if one’s whole powers, one’s best self is put into the work. As one cannot give to one’s labour more than one has, every intellectual power we have attained to should tell in our work and make itself felt. People have said that sorrow made me a poetess. But that is not so. Poetry is quite independent of the outer world, of sickness or trial. I never know what I shall write a week hence. I like to be surprised. But when an idea takes hold of me, I do not get rid of it even for years until it is written down. I have never had time, and if all my ideas were not clear in my head before I take up my pen, they would never see the light.”

_Woodbury Compy._

CARMEN SYLVA.]

The Princess has called the little volume in which she has rendered the treasures of National Roumanian poetry in German “Roumanian Poetry,” and has thus introduced it to her Fatherland. A collection of the poems of O. Alecsandri, Bolintenu, Candianu, Popescu, Cretzanu, Eminescu, Konaki, Negruzzi, Scherbanescu, and Torceanu are here rendered in their own metre, and treated in a manner which brings out the characteristics of each poet.

“I did not think of publishing my translations of Roumanian poetry when I wrote them. It was Frau Mite Kremnitz who took them from me by force years after. They appeared in a paper under the pseudonym of E. Wedi, and later, in 1878, also in the magazine of Foreign Literature. Still I cannot get over the dreadful feeling of being dragged before the world even under the disguise of E. Wedi. That is the only thing that spoils my pleasure.”

A ballad, “Virful cu Dor” (The Heights of Longing), was set to music in 1876, and was performed on the stage of the National Theatre at Bucharest, and afterwards at various other places. The Queen wrote to her mother from Sinaia in September 1875:--

“I have written a libretto from the old legend of “Virful cu Dor,” for which Lubitz has composed the music. It is a little ballad, which is very effective with its choruses, solos, and duets, and it could be represented with _tableaux vivants_ as well. It gives the songs of the Spirits of the Mists in the third canto--the rushing of wind announces the coming of Spring. The trees and the brooks awake from their slumbers. Yesterday we finished arranging the “Song of the Wind” for a bass voice, and it is so poetical that the poem is placed in a new light. I write the words out for you, as they are a poem by themselves. I have given the most beautiful ideas to my friend the West Wind--

“‘Come forth, all ye blossoms!
Start, seeds from the land;
Ye songs of birds, waken,
I, Spring, am at hand!

My touch on the fir boughs,
My kiss in the air,
Makes odours of Heaven
Spread sweet everywhere.

And the fragrance and splendour
Of meadow and grove
I give for a bride-wreath
In free gift to Love.

Come forth, then, blue violets!
Spring calleth on you,
Wake, leaflets and flowerets,
For Love’s coming too!’”

--_Translated by Sir Edwin Arnold._

Whilst still a Princess, Carmen Sylva had written a French comedy, “Revenans et Revenus,” for the society of Bucharest. She also put down many very deep and often very philosophical aphorisms in French at that time. These were not intended for publication at first. When the Queen was induced to put these pages in the hands of Herr Ulbach she hesitated at first. But he kept looking up at her whilst he was reading and repeated--“Oh! mais c’est très fort, mais c’est vraiment très fort, celá!” and begged for a copy. Later they were published at Paris with the title “Pensées d’une Reine,” with an introduction by Ulbach. In the spring of 1888 a new, improved, and enlarged edition was published there, to which the Academy accorded a prize. This consists of a gold, a silver, and a bronze coin which bear the title of the work thus crowned, “Les Pensées d’une Reine,” with the date of 1888. They contain rich treasures of deep thought, as for instance--

“Les comètes et les grands hommes laissent une trainée de lumière dans laquelle s’agite une foule d’atômes.”

“Beaucoup de gens ne critiquent que pour ne pas paraître ignorans. Ils ignorent que l’indulgence est la marque de la plus haute culture.”

“La souffrance est une lourde charrue, conduite par une main de fer. Plus le sol est ingrat et rebelle, plus elle le déchire, plus il est riche, plus elle s’enfonce.”

“La nuit tout est de feu, les étoiles, les pensées et les larmes.”

On an occasion in Bucharest during which there was a display of fireworks, this aphorism suddenly appeared in letters of flame, to the great surprise of the Queen.

In years of deep sorrow the first chapters of “The Pilgrimage of Sorrow,” “Sappho,” “Hammerstein,” “Over the Waters,” and “Shipwreck” appeared. The four last mentioned poems were published together, and called “Storms.” Carmen Sylva dedicates this work “To the unseen heroism of women,” with the following poem--

“Unto you--who have courage and patience for woe,
Whose souls by earth’s fire are annealed;
Whose hearts the fierce furnace of passion aglow
Hath sanctified, purified, steeled.

Unto you--who in tempest of misery caught
Lift heads with an unabashed daring;
Unto you, who in solemn sereness of thought
The burdens of life are bearing!

Unto you--who like sunbeams, that palpitate, bring
Brightness and warmth--and those only!
Chief givers of grace and of gladdening
To the earth, else so frozen and lonely.

Unto you--who with brave lips set firm in a smile
Over mountains of trouble have wended;
Who, cheered by no clarions of glory erewhile,
Have in glorious battles contended.

Battles, where no hand the bright laurel twines,
But where tears fall, bitter and hidden--
To you--to the undeclared heroines,
This ‘Book of the Women’ is bidden.”

--_Translated by Sir Edwin Arnold._

“I was much hurried whilst writing ‘Hammerstein’ and ‘Sappho,’ for I always thought that death would overtake me before their completion. I wrote ‘Sappho’ because I was angry with Grillparzer, for I thought that a noble and elevated feeling should act upon so grand a character as that of Sappho. Instead of making a noble and elevated character out of this struggling and suffering woman, the poet thought he had a right to desecrate her. It seemed to me unworthy of her to throw herself into the sea because she had been deceived. It was more natural and poetical to sacrifice herself for her child. It is characteristic of me that I cannot regard what is termed ‘Love’ as the motive power of all actions.

“Sappho lived in Sicily, surrounded by young girls, to whom she taught the art of poetry. I have amused myself in making portraits of my maids of honour.”

Carmen Sylva read the poem, in which she had depicted the sad trials of the life of Sappho, to the young friends around her.

“Will ye the last of love-melodies hearken,
Which from the lips of the poetess flowed at the end of her singing?
Sappho her voice uplifted, and softly the music resounded,
Whilst round about stood listening intent her lovely companions.

‘Of the power I sing, world-mastering,
Which beauty to beauty enchains;
Whereto the gods bow, and the earth in her swing--
To which all that is born pertains.

I sing of the might that in flowers leaps to light,
What wakes the still seed from its rest;
Which glows on the cheek of the maiden bright,
And burns in her lover’s breast.

To that god sing I so, who with echoing bow
Sweet endless confusion brings;
Who conquers all hearts, for their weal or their woe,
Who startles--and stabs--and stings.’”

--_Translated by Sir Edwin Arnold._

Laïs, the daughter of Sappho, loves Memnon, the man to whom Sappho has given her heart. This tragic circumstance hastens her end. The death of her daughter puts an end to Sappho’s love to Memnon. By moonshine she wanders to the sea, and raising her lyre high above her head, breaks it, and throws the pieces into the foaming waters. Memnon calls to her--

“‘Break not thy lyre, for much is yet thine own,
Thy tuneful art and the undying love
That I have vowed thee.’

‘Peace,’ answered Sappho, ‘peace between us lies,
For aye the shadow of my slumbering child,
Who died for love of Memnon.’”

Sappho leaves Sicily. In Lesbos, where Memnon reigns, she intends to throw herself into the sea.

‘All unseen then she climbed the rock, that rose from the ocean,
There she uplifted her voice in song as though she would send him
One farewell yet, the last e’er from earth she departed.
Softly at first she sang, then the cadence uprising,
Swelled like breakers afar, till slowly it sank into silence.

“Weep thou not, because the gods have sent thee,
And my fate, my life here ended lie.
All that words could tell, my songs declare,
All that could be borne, ’twas mine to bear;
Thanks be to the gods--the end is nigh!

Weep thou not! this life is dust and folly,
Let me pass into the eternal light!
All that once was mine has fled from me;
Let me grasp the perfect whole and see
Thus at last its radiance infinite.

Weep thou not! whene’er my songs thou singest,
Shall my spirit fly with thine to meet.
Links of harmony join soul to soul!
Now, where ocean’s billows softly roll,
Tired of life, I’ll sink to slumber sweet.”

The poetic narrative ends with this poem.

The story of Hammerstein lies in Germany, in the Middle Ages, during the war between Henry IV. and his son Henry.

Since her earliest youth the Queen had carried about with her the idea of a poem about Hammerstein. “Many hours,” she writes, “have I spent dreaming amongst the ruins and gazing over the Rhine. Then I seem to hear the old Kaiser knocking at the door, and see the gloomy Count who cursed his beautiful daughters.” Some lovely songs, such as the following, for instance, are interwoven in the narrative:--

“Through the forest there fluttered a song
Upborne upon airy gay wings;
As the breeze lisps the beech-leaves among,
So softly it came to my strings,
And the harp told the green Rhine again;
So the trees and the birds knew the strain,
And the river’s low whisperings.

Through the forest came wandering Love--
There was budding and blooming at this--
The birds woke to music the grove,
And the flowers and the springs felt his kiss;
And they sang it and sighed it to Rhine,
So the trees knew, and so the sunshine,
And the wavelets that whisper and hiss.

Through the forest a tempest did roar,
Song and Love in its fury it caught,
And both to the far sea it bore,
Then an end to all blossoms was brought!
And silently dreaming glides Rhine,
Strings are hushed, and the little birds pine,
And twitter of joys come to nought.”

--_Translated by Sir Edwin Arnold._

“To publish my own writings,” says the Queen, “would never have entered into my head, had they not passed from one to another and been copied endlessly. So I came to the conclusion at last that if they are worth such tedious work as copying, they were worthy of being printed. Whether my writings are praised or criticised in the world is of as little moment to me as if it did not concern myself. But when I read my poems to others, I am pleased if they produce the impression I desire. This is also a very safe criterion as to their truth and clearness. I should be delighted if my poems were sung without any one knowing whose composition they are.”