PRINCESS MARIE JOSE OF BELGIUM AND HER FAIRYLAND CHILDHOOD HOME AT LAEKEN

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 810, 2 November 1929, Page 25

PRINCESS MARIE JOSE OF BELGIUM AND HER FAIRYLAND CHILDHOOD HOME AT LAEKEN

(Specially Written for THE SUN)

The Princess, dressed in white and radi ontly happy, awaited her lover . . . and the engagement ring which will, ou< dag, make her Queen ot Italy.

think of it! It seems but yester

clay I chased Marie Jose through green walks and shady coppices in the park at Brussels. A lovesome, impetuous little tomboy she was at seven, a slender little girl with long thin legs and a head literally sunning over with the lightest of ash-blonde curls. She was wont to air her two grievances against Lifer “IVly so wretched hateful mop of cur-r-ls’* and the fact that she had opt been born “un gargon!” She longed to be a boy.

I recall an incident'relating to this passion. She and her Royal brothers were sailing boats in the lake, when the little Princess was seen stretching daugero.usly to recover her boat. It was an occasion for prompt action. I grabbed her by the muslin frill —in her parlance, "my skir-rt”— and yards and yards of finely tucked and pleated lawn came ripping off in my hands. In a flash she had ripped off the part left attached to the bodice, had tucked ill the lacy petticoat, and snatched and crushed upon her curls the cap of one of her brothers. How she enjoyed the daring of it, as she stuck her hands into imaginary pockets in her frilled knickers! "Brava! Me voila M'm’selle!” she cried, running to her Scots governess. "Now at last Igo like a boy!” Pleadings and coaxings availing nothing, followed a battle royal, the combatants being an agitated governess and a tempestuous, indignant littlo Princess. Just to return, dressed like a boy, to surprise Maman and Papa! But the anxious governess won the day, to the secret disappointment of all who were spectators. The Royal Nurseries The Royal nurseries were bright and spacious, and simplicity the keynote of the furnishings. Bread and milk, compotes of fruit, tartines (sandwiches) of honey and butter, eggs, and such plain fare, composed the evening meal. The two young Princes and their little sister spoke, in addition to their native French, good English and German. (This was nothing unusual among children of the aristocracy, who had educated nurses and governesses who spoke nothing hut English or German.) Queen. Elisabeth was a wise and gentle mother, and one retains a vivid memory of her one winter’s eveningsitting in the firelight weaving fanciful stories for the three children grouped about her feet. A good violinist herself, she conducted daily violin practice with the elder Prince. How good it was, too, to see her entering into all the holiday fun and the fort-building on the sands at Ostende. (For already the Belgian children's ideas at the beach ran to fortifications and ramparts against invasion by “Les Allemands.”) Laeken, Palace of Flowers and Romance

Laeken (you pronounce it Lakhen) is as a bravely sparkling jewel jealously guarded by kindly giants. It is exquisite, glowing with colour; small, as palaces go; and the large flower-flecked grounds are fringed by great noble trees. Sunshine laves the walls of light grey stone, and sets all the mullioned wiudows dimpling with laughter. King Leopold, that handsome, gay, and complaisant sovereign, who was far from being “a laggard in love,” fostered at Laeken his best quality, his great love of flowers. From all parts of the world his plants were culled. I was privileged to attend one of his splendid garden fetes, at which the famous conservatories were open for his guests’ pleasure. We walked till we were foot-weary, under glass all the time, and still there were hothouses and ferneries stretching, it seemed, for miles. The orchid houses were a revelation, and there were primulas and begonias from all quarters of the globe. There were green carnations and blue roses and violet primroses and curiously striped daisies, a score of different kinds of sensitive plants, fern walks and dells;

half a milion gloxinias, with their rich fluted bells; a vast show of velvety cinerarias and irises, like a trillion butterflies poised for flight. Waxplants, similax, and bougainvilleas threaded their way airily above, and camphor trees from China grew close to tea bushes from Ceylon. Heliotrope simply carpeted the whole space in one house. Regal cannas, types undreamed of, made a great show. There were hundreds of tinted maples from Japan; lilies from the Himalayas; and heaths of all colours from Africa. Tropical climbers represented Brazil; there were dahiias as big as soup plates; violets red, yellow, white, mauve, and purple. From Manila there was the famous ylang-ylang flower, while the steppes of Asia, and the jungles of the Congo, had a magnifi-

cent quota. But —oh, joy!-—fairest and most impressive of all to the young New Zealander was a perfectly healthy and well-sized cabbage tree, with its label marked “Do la Nouvelle Zelande.”

While the crowd surged on, eager for fresh beauties, one leaned against the rough bark as against a strong and wholesome friend, and wistful little thoughts went chasing homeward. Then on, to view the azaleas, famous throughout Europe in King Leopold’s day. House after house devoted to them, covering almost acres. Pearly white and carmine, apricot, lemon, and plum colour; crimson, mauve, rose, and salmon. For sheer beauty, the glowing colour of them surpassed all the wonder seen on that amazing afternoon. Happy-hearted Princess And she is there today, the happyhearted Princess. She will lead her laughing Prince through all the flowery ways at Laeken, just as “Little Bllie” of the meadows planned to discover unto her Knight of Knights that treasure, (“her swan's nest among the reeds.”) Old Sol, shine radiantly on the grey walls of Laeken, and set all the mullioned windows dimpling with laughter, for a dark-eyed Prince has come to woo. And when a slim, fair girl gazes out to gauge the measure of your morning greeting, shine kindly, warmly, on her, friend Sol. She is so young! And very soon —-“the Princess passes.' MAY C. BROWN.