FROM MEMORY'S SHRINE.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LIV, Issue 109, 28 October 1911, Page 10

FROM MEMORY'S SHRINE.

THE LIFE STORY OF THE QUEEN OF ROUMANIA.. Queen Eliza liet.li of Roumania, better known to the world at large as "Carmen Sylva," lias written what is in some respects the most remarkable autobiography that ever came from the pen of a Royal personage. In this work, to whidi she has given the title "From Memory's Shrine," she ignores titled persons, Court intrigues, statesmen, heroes of wars, and artists of renown to relate the simple annals of a Queen's private life. Few men or women of Royal rank have dared thus to let the world peep behind the purple curtains which shield the oft-embittered life of Royalty. The better to appreciate these reminiscences, the reader must bear ill mind that Queen Elizabeth was born into a small world of sickness and sorrow. Her father. Hermann, Prince of Wiod, w.as a silent, studious man, who spent half his life fighting the white plague. Her mother, who was Princess Marie of Nassau, was an invalid for many years, suffering from some mysterious malady which threw her into terrible convulsions. A younger brother, Otto, was born with a hideous malformation which interfered with his breathing and digestion, and finally brought welcome relief in death in his twelfth year. Thus the black shadows of the Rhine country in which the Queen was raised were gale compared with the spiritual shadows' in which she walked as a child. Her first lesson was that of self-control. A. Queen, present or prospective, must hide her emotions, stifle sorrows, and cultivate a calm exterior. Instinct with life and vivacity, rosy of cheek, fond of nature, imaginative, poetic, this child was the proverbial square peg shoved, crammed and cruelly twisted to fit into a round hole. Yet she tells the tale of her unremitting discipline without bitterness. She even speaks with gratitude of the liberty allowed her by comparison with the deprivations of her mother. "The lives of little princes (says the Queen) were indeed lonely enough'at the best of times in those days, for once out of the nursery they saw but little of one another, not even having their meals in common, but each child brought up quite apart from the rest with a special tutor or governess, with whom the repasts were taken tete-a-tete,' and to whose tender mercies the pupil was somewhat ruthlessly abandoned. For this was in the old days, when it seemed to be a recognised thing that children had come into the world just to do what they were told and learn whatever was taught them. Nobody thought of asking them if they found it a tedious restraint to behave properly, nor were they consulted as to whether their lessons bored them. If i n my youthful days, for instance, I played badly in my piano-lesson, it was so much the worse for me, as I found out, when the music-master had gone." Of her specific studies she thus writes: The direction of my studies after my twelfth year was almost entirely taken out of female hands, my mother feelins more confidence in the competence of persons of the other sex to impart to me the sound and thorough instruction she insisted on and which must, moreover, be in accordance with her own views, and not in the least on the pattern on the ordinary curriculum for girls For all my lessons I had to write essays, rather for the purpose of obliging me to summarise and recapitulate svstematically all that I had learned than as an encouragement to the expression of my own ideas. Latin I was taught by my brother's tutor, joining Wilhelm at ins lessons, a plan adopted partly in order to give him the stimulant of emulation, but which became a source of unspeakable pleasure and profit to my"The other course of lessons given us by Professor Preuner, on classic art, was perhaps of even greater efficiency in opening my eyes to the glories of the ancient world. An equal meed of gratitude, though on other grounds, is due from me- to the old mathematician, Henkel, who had been my father's tutor In former days, and who now labored hard, though with poorer results, to introduce the rudiments of his (to me) most disbrain 86161,06 Very rcfractol 7 ./' T ,° . Fl '. elleh governess 1 owed thanks for having so thoroughly grounded me m their language that I could employ it for my literary work as well h!in'" V m . ( ! t ' ler '""Sue, one of my books bung written originally in French." < nly once was Elizabeth permitted to study With other children, and this was in laris, for a very brief period. On return to the paternal castle she was obsessed by the desire once more to : 1 1 end a real school. She thus describes Hei adventure: •One morning 1 actually managed to steal out. Of the house unseen, and. runt'l'i'i 0 ' rVr " h i,s * f ould, 1 joined he children from the home farm on n vsldfT'-'r r Ol ' 00 ',- how 1 ""j^ved +•.• i- * l '. 011 bench between the aimers little boy and girl and joined in ""W'S wll' the whole strength of , f ilings, though the small girl kept trying to put her band before my moutli, or she thought it highly improper that a 1 niiccss should be singing with pea--am. children! It was a glorious day, bid (he most glorious day must come to an end. and this one ended sadly for me, for when I was inisx-d my parents were fnghleiied to death, and a hue and cry I was raised, and servants and gaine- ! keepers sent out in all directions, till at | la-.l I was found seated in triumph in i i he midst of the village school and pnt- | (ing my whole heart and soul'inlo the ' s'l'ging! I was -lint tip in my rootli | for (lie rest o! tlie day for the alarm ; I mid given, and I was in such disgrace ■ for ti1,1,, afterwards that I was I terribly a-hamcd of my escapade, and I hardiy liked to think of it any more. < much less to phut another: but now. : when I look back, il is a satisfaction to j 1 hai lor once in my childhood I did i break through my fellers and cuiancii bale mv-elf so I liorouglily." ' \ntillier exenr-ioii of her childhood. , i;;iiieei ed with a visit i ( , London, is "It \v:i- ],n Iti'M stay ill a great cily. ■'lid lie- Ii:■ -1 b-sson ii brought home , I.' l ' ""I- ha' 111 '-II Ml I il e j e aei|uieseence ;'I »!V "wn ! 1 111"i a: ions, or rallier in (hose 1111 1-''""' I it ll ' I". fifi-'inislanees. mv si||„,j v i,iirket-nionei ■"a'.i.:./ ■ ! ' ii f ■ unattainable all the ''" r ~ 1 « ••vliil.is, li in ; lie shops. There ' ! - ' " '• ■!■.!! -Ml ||, V ill, the 1111 is I vi'imi ' ,:,J 1,: - f »< I'fai .allies, am! 1 '■ 1 1 a 11''' II -Hill lo spend I :,! i . ' t hi'i,:. '.ml in irulli il w:i< jus! > ' •" ■■■' >' 1..M of all Ilia! 1 lie coa- ' !l ' "i ;.l v -■!';•'! till, Sl' ci 11| It I b'.l V. bill •' i' i"Vi in a dear little lied " ta ftmains of -ill;. "||. : l| v.biil; lii. lin-iu streamed '■ "Ver 11--'- lieiieal,. ;i;-!,. v\ a \ I'aee. 11. iw ■1 I low,l thai doil! ■•Demon-! ra! ions „f ll'e.-l ion never lie:i:g encouraged >n farl. being rallier s|eriil.v repressed in our familv all my pent-up tenderness poured ilself out oil mv dolls and also on my lit (le horsehair pillow, which I used to' hug and kiss in gtafifude every night before going lo sleep. It was all (lie dearer to me because it was not taken with us on our journeys, and as 1 was not allowed to sleep on a down pillow I generally, when

we were away from home, hud to do without altogether, which was by no means pleasant.'' The Princess Elizabeth was a great admirer of Mine. Clara Schumann, widow of the composer, and it so happened that her betrothal was interwoven with her friendship for this gifted woman. She. thus details the story of her formal betrothal, which occurred on a day when she was attending a concert given by Mmc. Schumann at Cologne: •'Xor did we stay quite to the end, much to my disappointment, but drove off to the Flora Garden and lunched there. And as we sat there I noticed also that we seemed to attract the attention of a little group of gentlemen, strangers, as I thought then, who were walking up and down, and one of whom at last seated himself at a little table quite close to ours, looking at me so hard that I slightly turned away from him. But when we rose to leave they all three came up to us, and we recognised Hcrr von Werner, whose acquaintance we had made at Prince Holieiizollern's, while his two companions were none other than the young Prince of Roumania and the latter's representative in Paris, the last mentioned being the gentleman who had just been observing me so closely. But I was sincerely glad to meet the young Prince again, for I had seen much of him in Berlin some years before, and was full of admiration for the adventurous spirit and strong sense of duty in which he had entered on his task in his new country. So I welcomed with pleasure the opportunity of talElng with him again, and walked on ahead with him, discussing all sorts of things, my mother following with the two* other gentlemen. We wandered from the Flora to the Zoological Gardens. "When we left there was only just time to dress for the concert. My toilette was 'very hurriedly made, in spite of the satisfaction I felt in the very pretty and becoming dress—a white flowered silk over a pale blue under? skirt—which I was to wear, for my one fear was of missing any of the music. But while I was dressing the Prince of Roumania had been announced, and he stayed and stayed, and I could hardly control my impatience, until at last I heard him leave, and rushed to my mother to hurry her. But the serious look with which she met me checked the impatient exclamation on my lips. Taking my arm in hers, she began to pace the room with me, saying, 'The Prince of Roumania was here just now to ask vou to be his wife.'

"She stopped and looked at me, half expecting the decided refusal with whieh all such proposals had hitherto been met. But instead, 'Already?' was the only word I brought out. I said to myself —he hardly knows me, he cannot love me; he only happens to know how well and carefully I have been brought up, and thinks I may prove a suitable companion, the fittest helpmate for him in the work he has set himself. And a thousand similar thoughts flashed like lightning through my brain. But through it all I heard my mother telling me of the high and noble mission awaiting me should I accept the Prince's hand, of the wide field in which my energies might find scope and the honor she accounted it that his choice should have fallen on me. As she went on talking, my hesitation seemed to fade away, and it was not long before I said to her, 'Let him come. He is the right one.' "In a very short time the Prince had. returned, I was summoned to the room, and remember going towards him with my hand outstretched, which he raised to his lips; and I remember, too, the words he spoke. But my words to him I do not -recall, though my mother treasured them in her heart, and had them inscribed below my portraii she sent him. She had already sent a little word in all haste to Mme. Schumanm, telling her of my betrothal, and that she must not count on us for that evening. The rest of it passed quickly indeed.' The Prince had only a few hours to spend with us, as he had to return to Paris that same night. As long as he was with us telling me of the work we should accomplish together, of the difficulties we must encounter and overcome—so far all was well. I had caught the fire of his enthusiasm, and felt equal to all that might be demanded of me., But no sooner was he gone than doubts and hesitations once more asasiled me. Had I not been too hasty, too precipitate in making up my mind on a question of such importance, on which depended all the happiness of mv future life ? "But T took pleasure at looking at the little opal cross he had given me, finding in the soft pure flames of the beautiful milk-white stones a sort of presage of everything that is good and noble, and my fears gradually quietened down. Not altogether, though. They came hack often during the four weeks of our engagement, and only left me entirely when T stood with my affianced hnslxind before the altar.'"