In the year 1871 a club for the poor was founded by her, and soon after a society for the translation of children’s books. “There are absolutely no Roumanian school books, nor any for the people,” she wrote to her mother; “I will provide these. I have already distributed my best French books among the young ladies, and also interested several gentlemen in the work. The poet Alexandri will criticise and correct: then they will be quickly and cheaply printed. The language will in this way become in some measure fixed, and the young people, who cannot speak their own language decently, will learn it quite splendidly.” Her ideas were eagerly received by the people, and interested them more even than politics. In 1871 the Prince and Princess made a journey through Moldavia to Jassy, in order to become acquainted with that part of their dominions. It was a triumphal progress all the way. Their reception everywhere was alike brilliant and hearty. At Jassy their time was filled up with receptions, visits to churches and schools, etc.
Their summers are passed in the Carpathian Mountains, 2,900 feet above the sea. Their first residence was an old monastery called Sinaia; now it is Castle Pelesch, which the Prince has built. Distinguished people of all sorts—savans, artists, musicians—are received in this retreat, and are often entertained there for weeks together. Society of this kind is the great enjoyment of the Prince and Princess. In order to encourage native industry, the Court wears the native national costume while resident in the mountains.
In the ladies of her Court the Princess takes a truly motherly interest. She loves particularly to gather young people around her. Several young women are invited to stay some weeks every year at Sinaia, in order to share in the working life of the Princess.
In 1874 time of severe trial came to Prince Charles and his wife. Their child, Princess Maria, who was as lovely and as marked in her individuality as her mother, took ill of diphtheria, and died in the lap of her English nurse. Her last words were in English: “All is finished.” Up to the very last the Princess could not believe that the end was so near; but when the certainty of the fact was realised with overwhelming force, she bowed her head with humble submission to the will of God. “God,” she said, “has loved my child more than I have, therefore He has taken her to Himself. Thank God that He ever gave her to me!”
To her mother she wrote:—
“I often say that a mother’s love is stronger than the grave, and I rejoice in my child’s blessedness. But that earth appears darker to me in consequence cannot be altered. It must be endured.”
Her poems furnish abundant evidence of her estimate of a mother’s love, and of her love and grief for the loss of her child.
When she first went to Roumania, no one suspected that Princess Elizabeth was a poetess. Once, when the poet Alexandri was in attendance in Bucharest, she said to him with deep blushes, “I wish to make a confession to you, but I have not the courage.” After a long pause, she said bashfully, with a soft voice, “I, too, write poems.” At Alexandri’s request, she showed him some of them. He saw at once that she had poetical gifts, and encouraged her to go forward. He sent her a thick volume of his manuscripts, and she began to translate popular Roumanian legends into German. In the work of translation she learnt practically much of the “art of poetry.” She had written poetry hitherto just as a bird sings. Rhymes and verses came more readily to her than prose. It was in her great sorrow for the death of her daughter that she betook herself to translation. She needed to occupy her mind by strenuous work. This she found in translation. She not only translated Roumanian works into German, but also the treasures of German literature into Roumanian. In this way she thought she could render the greatest service to her subjects. The effect of such work upon her mind she describes to her mother thus:—“When I am not actually asleep, neither my head nor hands rest for a second; otherwise it fares ill with me. Constant activity keeps the mind fresh, and sometimes only am I overcome when I remember my beloved one.”
She naturally felt a great longing to see her mother once more. It was arranged for them to meet at Cologne, and from thence to proceed to St. Leonards for a few weeks. She was much impressed by London. They paid a visit to Oxford, where they were Max Müller’s guests for two days. It was here that she presented to her mother a book in missal form, called “My Journey Through the World; containing Rhymes and Versicles Confided to the Heart of My Mother.” Charles Kingsley was present when she astonished her mother by handing this volume to her, and was much touched by one of the poems pointed out to him, of which the following is a rough but faithful rendering. It is called