CHAPTER IXTHE TSAREVITCH

I have a pretty doll,Her name is Miss Rose,She has two pretty blue eyes,And a very small nose.She can’t stand long,On her tiny little toes,She just makes a curtsy,And then, off she goes.

“That is very pretty,” said the Empress, “but isn’t that what you said to your mother last week?” Anastasie couldn’t stand it any longer and fled from the room and burst into tears, but presently she went back to her grandma to tell her how sorry she was and to beg her forgiveness. The Empress accepted the child’s apology very sweetly, but toldher that she could not give her the bonbon like the one she had given to all the other children.

Anastasie, one day, climbed onto the nursery table and jumped off. The governess said, “You must not do that; it is too high; you can jump off the sofa if you want to jump, but not off the table.” Paying no heed to what had been said to her, Anastasie again climbed on the table and jumped off. So her governess gently slapped her. Anastasie sat down and thought a moment, then said, “It is not nice to get a slap, but it is better to climb on the table and get a slap than to jump off the sofa and not get a slap,” and she promptly climbed on the table once more and jumped again. The governess then tied her in a chair with a sash. Anastasie did not like this so she said, “It is better to climb on the table and get a slap but it is better not to climb on the table than to be tied in a chair like this.”

The Emperor was with the children one day when Anastasie, in a burst of temper, slapped Tatiana on the face. The Emperor promptly sent for the nursery governess and told her to take Anastasie upstairs and make her hear reason. When the governess had Anastasie alone, she said, “Aren’t you ashamed of yourself to slap your sister?” “I am not ashamed at all,” replied Anastasie, “because I did not really hurt Tatiana.” “But you hurt Tatiana’s feelings,” the governess told her, “and you hurt your father’s feelings.” “I did not hurt Tatiana so I won’t say ‘I am sorry’ to her butI am sorry I hurted poor daddy’s feelings,” and she proceeded to go and tell her father how sorry she felt. The governess allowed her to go downstairs. Anastasie went directly to the Tsar and said: “Daddy, I am sorry I hurted your feelings,” but to Tatiana she would not say a word. After a moment, however, she suddenly threw her arms around her sister’s neck and kissed her.

Anastasie had long wanted a cat for a pet. In the garden near Peterhof, where the Royal Family were staying for the annual manœuvres, the nursery, one day, found a cat following the gardener. Anastasie promptly said, “Sir, will you please give me your cat?” “You may have the cat if you can keep it,” the gardener replied. Anastasie took the cat home, buttered its feet and shut it up in one of the rooms. When she went to look for her cat, she found it had escaped through the chimney. The next day, Anastasie went again to the garden and, seeking out the gardener, said, “You said I might have the cat and I took it home but she ran away.” “No,” said the gardener, “I said you might have the cat if you could keep it.” Anastasie begged him to give her the cat again and to tell the cat that she was to stay with her, but the gardener was reluctant to give up his pet and so a kitten had to be found for Anastasie elsewhere.

One spring, the nursery was taken to an orchard near the Palace to pick apples, and, as a reward, they were promised some baked apples with their tea. When the baskets were filled, the apples weresent to the Palace and the children were taken off to listen to a military band. While the band was playing, Anastasie suddenly produced an apple which she had hidden and began to eat it. The governess took it away from her and told her not to eat it, as it would make her ill. A few moments later, she produced another, and said to her governess, “If you take this apple away from me, I will scream and then the people will all think you are wicked to me.” So the governess said, “Anastasie, as sure as you eat that apple, you will be punished when you get home.” Anastasie was not frightened by the threat and calmly proceeded to eat the apple. When the nursery returned to the Palace, Anastasie was put straight to bed and at tea time, all the other children had baked apples but none was given her. The other children thought to tease her by asking her if she did not want some of their lovely baked apples. “No, indeed,” remarked Anastasie, “because you don’t know how good that apple was that I had in the garden.” The next day, Anastasie wanted again to be taken to the orchard, but the governess took her somewhere where she did not want to go. Looking out of the carriage window, Anastasie said, “It is very lovely here; I am enjoying myself much more than in the orchard.” The following day, she again asked to be taken to the orchard. Her governess asked her why she wanted to be taken there again and Anastasie, throwing her arms around the governess’s neck, said: “Because it was such fun eatingthat apple.” Several days later, Tatiana said, “It is too bad because Anastasie was naughty that we cannot go to the orchard.” The governess said, “Until Anastasie is good and will promise not to eat any more apples you cannot go.” It was nearly a week after that before Anastasie’s stubbornness was subdued and she promised to eat no more apples if the nursery might only go and play in the orchard.

From these stories, it will be seen that Anastasie is most like her Imperial father whose traditional stubbornness of character is well known.

Alexis, son and heir of Tsar Nicholas II and Tsaritsa Alexandra Feodorovna, was born July 30th (Russian style), 1904. When he was about an hour old, he was made honorary commander of six regiments of the Russian army.

When he was twelve days old he was taken to the Royal chapel at Peterhof in a gilded coach drawn by eight horses and christened. The name he bears, interpreted, means “Bringer of Peace.” Yet at this time the Tsaritsa said: “We are bound to hand over to our son an Autocracy such as we ourselves received.”

Here is one of the curious phases of her character. Born of an English mother, reared in Germany where at least the idea of a constitutional monarchy is accepted, she yet opposes the least step toward reform and progress in Russia, if it interferes with or threatens Autocracy. She acquiesces in the naming of her son “Bringer of Peace” at a time when nearly the whole nation is aspiring to freedom and almost ready to rise up in general revolution to fight for a constitution! It would seem that in this as in so many other things she learned to conform with the will of the Tsar, whois her sole liege. The Tsar, two years later, said in private conversation to a friend of mine: “I believe Russia can go for twenty years more without a constitution.”

As the Tsar speaks, so thinks the Tsaritsa. Whether this is one of the tragedies of her life, or whether it is her supreme sacrifice, one cannot judge. The fact remains, that every thought, every particle of her ownegohas been put aside that she may be more completely the wife of her husband.

The little Alexis was started in life with a goodly array of godfathers and godmothers. Among the former were the King of England, the King of Denmark, the Emperor of Germany, and various Grand Dukes, uncles of the Tsar. During the baptismal service the baby Tsarevitch, when he was being anointed, raised a tiny pink hand and extended his fingers as if he were pronouncing a benediction or bestowing a blessing. And all the people present accepted this as a good omen of future blessings to come from the Heir to the Throne.

The training of a young Tsar does not conform with American ideas of training a child, for very largely the Tsarevitch is encouraged to do everything he is inclined to do on the theory that the instincts and impulses of an Autocrat must be right.

During the summer of 1907 I was in Finland when the Royal Family were cruising along the picturesque Finnish coast in the Royal YachtStandart, and I gathered various stories of Alexis fromsailors and officers of the ship. On this cruise Alexis was the Emperor’s adjutant, and by way of training, this three-year-old was placed in command of the squadron, that is to say, the Royal Yacht and the accompanying pilot boat, gunboats and other vessels that make up a Royal fleet when the Imperial Family goes for a summer outing.

One night in August when the air was still and warm, Alexis had difficulty in falling asleep. Suddenly he sat up in his little bed and announced that he desired the ship’s band to come and play for him. The officer on duty explained that the hour was late and the band had retired, whereupon Alexis grew furious andcommandedthat the band be aroused and brought to him immediately, which was done. The Tsar on this occasion was inordinately pleased and exclaimed: “That’s the way to bring up an Autocrat!”

On another occasion Alexis ordered all the Finnish pilots on the various ships to be brought before him. As the astonished and wondering Finns appeared on the deck of theStandartthe baby commander shouted: “Zdorovo rebyata!” (Health children!) The Finns, not understanding Russian, were much bewildered and frightened, and Alexis, became exceedingly annoyed at their not understanding. So the Finns were hurriedly taught to respond: “Zdravie zhelayem vashe Imperatorskoye Vysochestvo”—(“We wish you health, your Imperial Highness.”)

The sailor who acts as orderly to the Tsarevitch on theStandartis called Stefan. He is of huge physique and is in attendance on the autocrat-in-process day and night. Up to the present time, Alexis has shown a greater fondness for this man than for anyone else. He insists upon his “big Stefan” taking part in nearly all of his games and it is quite clear that he considers Stefan as second only to his father in all the vast Empire. Morning and night, little Alexis in his prayers remembers Stefan but even Stefan has not been able to break his young charge of a certain military tendency which shows itself at the end of each of his prayers in a loud “hurrah” instead of an “Amen.” Alexis is perfectly logical in this, for he says that the soldiers on parade always cry “Hurrah” when his father appears or when he ceases speaking and, consequently, it is right that his Heavenly Father should be greeted in the same way.

Early in the year 1909, the Emperor of China despatched a special embassy, headed by one of the Princes of the Royal Family in China, to St. Petersburg for the express purpose of conveying to the Tsarevitch Alexis a collection of wonderful Chinese toys. The Embassy also brought with it two wonderfully trained dwarf elephants. This embassy was sent in acknowledgment of a similar embassy which the Emperor of Russia had sent to China some time before conveying to the boy-Emperor of 400,000,000 of people, a toy railroad said to have cost more than fifty thousand dollars and many elaborate and ingenious toys of Russian design. This toy railroad was similar to one that President Fallières of France had presented to the Tsarevitch on the occasion of his visit to the Russian Imperial family. This gift had pleased the Tsarevitch hugely and he immediately nicknamed the French president, “The train-man.” The Tsarevitch, like the Royal children of Spain, has frequently been maligned in the Press of Europe and reported as being defective mentally. These stories, of course, are all nonsense, for, like the Spanish Princes, he is a sturdy, wholesome boy in every respect and takes the keenest interest not only in all the wonderful toys that are sent him by kings, emperors and eastern potentates but also in childish sports and games.

That Alexis has a mind of his own and a pretty keen one at that is illustrated in a story that the Tsar himself has repeated. It appears that one day, the Emperor was engaged with a council of Ministers when the little Alexis suddenly burst into the Cabinet room. Surprised at seeing his father surrounded by so large a group of dignitaries, he stopped and looked at them for a moment, then quietly said: “Good morning, brothers.” The Emperor proceeded to point out to the Tsarevitch that it was not adequately respectful for so small a boy to address elderly gentlemen as “brothers.” Alexis appeared a little embarrassed and with an obvious desire to correct his mistake, he said, “Very well; good morning, boys.”

Probably no heir in Europe is being trained with greater care than young Alexis, for, unless something unforeseen occurs, he will one day be the ruler over 150,000,000 of people and, according to the will and wish of his father, he will perpetuate the traditions of the Tsars of old and rule the vast kingdom with all the rigid severity which has characterised the autocratic Tsars of Russia.

TheTsaritsa’s life has been lived out on the plane of the family, not of the Empress. She might have swayed vast power, she might have liberated or helped to liberate one hundred and forty millions of people from oppression and tyranny; and her name would have been enshrined in all hearts for generations. But she has chosen an humbler part. She has shrunk from the larger burdens of the opportunities presented to her, and accepted the quieter tasks of the home. This much we may say, it is a tragedy that circumstances have prevented her carrying both parts. But to have been the great Empress, she would have been obliged to sacrifice her love to a degree. Nicholas doubtless cares tremendously for her, but a man never loves as a woman loves. For a woman’s joy is sacrifice, and the sacrifice of ambitions, of personal hopes and dreams, of ideas, of principles, is the greatest of all sacrifices. In proving herself the absolutely loving and loyal wife the Tsaritsa turned her back upon the opportunities fate gave her for moulding history by ameliorating the condition of humanity in her own vast sphere.

The Tsar must understand the attitude of the Court toward the Empress and the fact that she is not popular doubtless makes him endeavour the more to make their own little family circle happy. For after all, the really exclusive circle of an Emperor and his Empress and their children is very, very small.

In August 1907 when the Tsar returned from his meeting with the Kaiser at Swinemünde, the Tsaritsa went to greet him far down the Gulf of Finland in a Royal Yacht. Court etiquette merely required that she meet him at the pier upon his landing, and this effort of hers caused a good deal of comment at the capital and was accepted as another evidence of her love for him.

When the Tsar promised the nation a constitution—and a parliament—all might have been well had these promises been literally carried out. No sooner had the waves of revolutionary activity subsided, however, than the Emperor began to withdraw and nullify his honeyed promises and to take back piecemeal the constitution which had been granted in a moment of panic. Now the people feel that Russia will not have a real constitution nor a real parliament for years to come unless these institutions of liberalism and progress and civilisation are battled for. The government by maintaining a watchful grip on the country, by extraordinary vigilance, by arresting or exiling thousands upon thousands of citizens, women and girlsjust as frequently as men, it is able to preserve a certain surface calm.

Of late public opinion in Russia, like public opinion in other countries, has been altering toward the Tsar. He is no longer the “weak,” “well meaning little man,” who is prevented from doing what he believes to be right by wicked Grand Dukes, bad ministers and a corrupt court. If he is ever “led” we know now that it is only in directions in which he desires to go. If his ministers are “bad,” or the Grand Dukes “wicked,” we know that the inclinations and ambitions of Nicholas II are toward Reaction, and that he aspires, in the words of the Tsaritsa, to “hand on to his successor an Autocracy such as he received.”

We know, too, that however much local police and other officials may be directly responsible for a policy which uses massacre as a political weapon that the Tsar himself is not opposed to these methods, and that he directly patronises and encourages the “League of Russian men,” popularly called “The Black Hundred.” We know that the Tsaritsa, likewise, contributes money to support this organisation. This is the organisation that carries out thepogromsand the policy of governmental terrorism. In view of these (now) unquestioned facts, it seems passing strange that the Tsar has not sooner fallen a martyr to his own despotism. Scores of governors, generals, and other officials have paid the penalty for their misdeeds, but the Tsar has thus far been spared.

THE TSAR AND TSARITSA AT THE HEAD OF A REVIEWING PARTY.

There are good reasons for this, however. In the first place the person of the Tsar is constantly guarded, and to such an extent that it would doubtless be difficult for a mere fanatic to reach him. But the revolutionists could get him if they believed his death would serve the cause of Liberty. That the Tsar lives to-day is due solely to this doubt. The revolutionists have emissaries at court, in the palaces. It would not be difficult to carry out a death sentence passed upon him. But what would be the result of this? Who would be his immediate successor, that is, the Dictator pending the coming of age of Alexis?

The Russian liberals cannot forget that the assassination of Alexander II in 1881 instead of helping the Cause, set it back twenty years. It would be fatal to repeat such a blunder as that. And as to the Dictator—he might be any one of several Grand Dukes, and one or two of these would unquestionably be more aggressively tyrannical than the present Emperor. And while so much doubt prevails the life of Nicholas II is comparatively safe. On the other hand, if there is a desire to end the rule of the Romanoffs a much safer method would be to do away with the successors to the Throne. Such a proceeding would be unaccompanied by immediate political disturbance, and yet would be effective.

We can understand, therefore, the anxiety with which the Tsaritsa watches over Alexis. His birth was so long and so earnestly desired, and at least solong as he is the only son any disaster overtaking him would be viewed as the most terrible of calamities—probably worse from the standpoint of the court than disaster to the Tsar himself. From the hour of his birth the Tsaritsa has taken it as her especial task to guard and protect her son from all dangers.

At Peterhof, at Tsarskoe-Selo, on the Royal Yacht, wherever Alexis goes the Tsaritsa is close beside. The little Grand Duchesses may sometimes be seen playing in the park at Peterhof accompanied by only their governesses and a groom, but if their brother is there too, so is the Royal mother. At functions, military reviews and the like, when Alexis is on exhibition to inspire the regiments with loyalty, the Empress always remains particularly near to her son.

The education of the children is supervised personally by the Tsaritsa. The instructors of the children of the Tsar have a very difficult task indeed. There are certain subjects in which the children must be thoroughly grounded, and certain others which must be taught eclectically and others which must be eschewed altogether.

I have a friend, now living in St. Petersburg, who was a court tutor for four years, and he has sometimes told me of the difficulties he encountered during that period. The Russian tutors generally have the rank of General, and are addressed in great formality as “Your Excellency.” Teachers from abroad, however, appear in the Palace class-rooms in what we know as “evening dress.” How strange it would seem to American boys and girls to go to school one morning and find the teacher wearing a low cut vest and long-tailed coat!

The two older children, Olga and Tatiana, inherit from their mother a fondness for music, and they both play quite well already. The Tsar enjoys listening to music, but he plays only by ear and never sings himself.

The end of the chapter is not yet. The Tsaritsa is still a young woman, and Empress of one of the most turbulent Empires on earth. The rank and file of her one hundred and fifty million subjects hold nothing against her but they are weary of the Romanoff régime. Militarism is now the last bulwark of the Empire. Martial law is spread over a large part of the Empire and the people are kept in subjection, in artificial quiet only through the constant menace of bayonets and prisons whose doors ever yawn to political heretics.

No one may prophesy the end, nor when it will come. The future is shrouded in complete mystery and therefore possesses incomparable fascination.

The Tsaritsa is still, by virtue of her position, one of the most powerful women in the western world, but whose life has been given to the natural development of the love of her school-girl days, at the expense of a career which might have rivalled that of the greatest heroines of history.

This is the story of the little German Princess, who was left motherless at six, and came unto her own through her heart’s romance, and has remained faithful to this romance despite the tempting circumstances of Opportunity. The simple loving child who was called “Sunny” is to-day more than anything else the simple, loving wife of Nicholas II, the devoted mother of his children. Judging from her life, if she had the dearest will and wish of her heart it would be that she might be remembered as Wife and Mother, rather than as Empress. Thus the life of Princess Alix of Hesse—“Sunny”-passed into the Romance of an Empress—with its burdens and its sufferings and its tragedies, and thus the end of the road looks dark, uncertain and ominously fearful.

Onthe eastern shores of the Adriatic, nestling between the unfamiliar Provinces of Herzegovina and Albania, lies the Kingdom of Montenegro. It is a tiny spot on the map and until very recently was rated as a Principality. The entire population of Montenegro would make only a small American city, yet the Montenegrans are a proud nation, with an engrossing and noble history, and perhaps no country in Europe has had a more romantic past. They are an aggressive people, these Montenegrans, always armed, ever ready to fight for the cause of freedom, a liberty-loving people, a staunch folk. The denizens of Montenegro have always been daring and bold; withal a poetic people. Nicholas, their Prince, is the first warrior in the kingdom and also the first poet. He is a picturesque figure, familiar to Europe and more or less known to America, for much has been written about him. Some years ago, some one had the temerity to inquire of Prince Nicholas, as he then was called, what were the exportations of Montenegro, to which question he gave answer, “My daughters.”

The daughters of King Nicholas have indeed been a wonderful asset to this little nation. One married a Russian Grand Duke, thus securing the friendship of Russia. Another married a Servian, who at the present time reigns over that Kingdom. While another, Elena, married a Prince who presently became a King, making his spouse Queen of a great nation.

The story of the romance of the Montenegran Elena and the Italian Prince, son of the late King Humbert, and now known as King Victor Emanuel III, is one of the most romantic stories connected with the Court life of Europe. Princess Elena was the fourth child of King Nicholas, and she, perhaps more than any of the children, inherited many of her father’s noble qualities.

Many times as I have watched her driving through the streets of Rome, deftly holding the reins and guiding the great black horses up and down the hilly, badly paved streets, or leisurely reposing in one of the magnificent Royal automobiles speeding up the Pincio or through the lovely gardens of the Villa Borghese, complacently acknowledging the salutes of the people, I have tried to fancy the little black-eyed Princess among her native hills—bounding like a chamois from rock to rock among the tallest crags and peaks, rejoicing in the high air, the free life, the glorious rapture that comes only to the mountain-born. In fancy I havepictured her returning to her simple Cittenje home at night, her hands holding delicious bunches of Alpine flowers, her arms laden with flower branches. A strange girlhood this, for a future Queen. But so Elena lived as a child—naturally, spontaneously, freely.

And now—beside this fancy-memory I have to place a recollection of another phase of her life, when I saw her as Queen, in the midst of the horrors of Messina, nursing the wounded and comforting the dying. The night she was injured during a panic following one of the earthquake shocks I was standing on the deck of a ship lying so close to the Italian flagship that I could watch the wild rush of refugees across the decks, many of them to the rails as if to throw themselves into the sea. One afternoon I was on a British warship when Queen Elena came aboard to visit the wounded who were about to be conveyed to Naples. She spent more than an hour among the cots and stretchers and spoke a personal word to each and every one. All this was fine—a kind of work Queens rarely do. It was dramatic, too. For during the days immediately succeeding the first shock, earthquakes were constantly recurring and there were a hundred dangers to which all were exposed. But when we know of Queen Elena’s early years we understand the instinct which took her so promptly to Messina, and we understand many of the other qualities which distinguish her from the other Queens of the world.

Elena’s grandfather was called Prince Mirko, a name renowned in the history of Montenegro, for when Mirko was a very young man, long before he had become the idol of the Montenegran people, he was serving in a war against Turkey. One day Mirko and a comrade became detached from their regiment and fell into an ambush. The situation looked desperate. Pausing for an instant the two young officers made a vow that if they both survived the day, and eventually got back to their homes that they would one day seal their friendship and the memory of that experience, in blood. Some years later Mirko having married, became the father of a son whom he called Nicholas. When the boy Nicholas was seven years old, Mirko’s old comrade of the Turkish war became the father of a daughter whom he named Melena. These two children became betrothed when Melena was still in her cradle and when she was only thirteen years old she and Nicholas were married. The fortune of life was so ordered that in time Nicholas became the ruler of the little principality, and Melena, his wife and consort, from the very first shared the responsibilities of administration with him. So complete a helpmeet has Melena been to Nicholas that from time to time when the Prince has of necessity quit Montenegro to visit his friend and ally the Tsar of Russia, or his son-in-law, the King of Servia, he has left all the reins of rulership to Melena, who has ever discharged her duties wisely. Besides all this she has borne

QUEEN MILENA OF MONTENEGRO, THE MOTHER OF QUEEN ELENA.

him thirteen children. Elena was their fourth child. It was no inconsiderable thing when she was picked by the Prince of Naples to be his bride, because this meant she would eventually be a great Queen. Elena was born fairly in the lap of romance, and Fate has been extraordinarily generous to her in supplying her with exceptional romantic and dramatic episodes which, ever since she came into her own have served to bring her before the eyes of the world.

No Queen in Europe to-day, save the Tsaritsa and Queen Victoria Eugenie, looks more a Queen than Elena. She is stately and tall, with a statuesque poise that anywhere singles her from the throng. Her hair is as black as midnight forest depths, her eyes as luminous as live coals. Her skin is like unto olives, and her hands firm and strong and large. Her shoulders are broad and she holds them squarely. The impression the woman gives is of unusual physical strength. Nor could this well be otherwise in view of her athletic training. As a child she was always a devotee of Nimrod, given inordinately to the chase. Long after her marriage she continued to hunt,—to shoot deer and birds,—to ride to hounds, and play tennis. A modern Diana might she in verity be called. But her training was not restricted to sports and outdoor activities. Far from it. These were but natural incidentals to each day’s work in Montenegro, and well it were if similar customs held the world over, for surelythere are no better physiques in both men and women anywhere on earth than in this same little Montenegro.

Elena’s parents are both extraordinary people. Old Prince Nicholas is one of the most remarkable rulers in the world to-day. Like Julius Caesar, he boasts that he knows the names of all the men in his army, and as all of the men in Montenegro are of the army, his boast is practically that he knows all of his subjects. A ruler who interests himself thus deeply in the affairs of his state would naturally look carefully to his own family. And so when Elena was a wee baby just learning to toddle, the Prince used to take her upon his knee and give her her first lessons. Her first tutor, he used to call himself. He it was who taught her the letters of the alphabet of her mother tongue, gave her her first lesson in reading. His was the great hand that guided the little baby fingers as they laboriously traced the difficult Slavish hieroglyphics. Later, he interested her in geography and in history. Never a day passed when Nicholas was so occupied with the affairs of his kingdom, or with the knotty international problems that are forever engaging the troublesome little Balkan states and the great Ghoul Powers of Austria and Turkey that are ever lying in wait to gobble them up, that he neglected the lessons of his little daughter.

During the early years of her life Elena lived in the great square grey “palace” of the ruler of Montenegro in Cittenje. It is not a beautiful norelaborate home like most of the palaces of the sovereigns and rulers of Europe. Indeed, it is distinctly plain and unimposing, with bare and barren surroundings. The stern mountains of Montenegro rise abruptly behind the town, and the Palace is on the edge of the miniature capital almost in the shadows of the cragged hills. Here lived Prince Nicholas and Princess Melena, and all their children until one by one the latter married and drifted to other lands—Princess Zorka to become the wife of the present King of Servia; Princess Melitza to become the spouse of Grand Duke Peter Nicholaivitch of Russia; Elena to become the Princess of Naples and subsequently the Queen of Italy.

As a child Elena was always lively and active. In America she would have been called a “tomboy,” for she preferred the company of her brothers to that of her sisters and it was through the pains of two of them—Danilo and Mirko—that she became expert with the rifle and rod, a familiar horsewoman, and so able a walker and climber.

The spirit of Elena was wild and free. She loved fresh air, a mad scamper over the hills, an adventure that savoured of danger. Encouraged by her father and brothers to all activities in the open she developed into a strong, stalwart girl and later into the Amazonian woman she is to-day. Long after her marriage she retained the fresh and breezy way acquired in girlhood.

An important influence in Elena’s early life were the grandfather’s tales she listened to round thegreat fire in her homely Palace home. Montenegro, like all older mountain countries, has a folk tale and a legend associated with every crag and valley. Elena heard from her veteran grandfather how the Montenegran people battled with the Turks, and her little heart would fairly quiver with the heroic deeds of valour that the old man would relate of the stormy days when the Balkan peninsula was like a great seething cauldron, and men, and the women too, came down from the mountain fastnesses in their quaint and rude attire to fight the trained troops of European armies. Thus was her child’s imagination fired, and love and pride of country aroused.

One day little Elena brought her father some sheets of paper upon which were drawn some strange pictures. The Prince held the sheets upside down at first, trying to make out what his little daughter had brought him. Elena was much hurt at this and she could hardly keep back the tears. But when the Prince turned the papers round the right way he quickly made out, under her guidance, the house and the mountain, and the dog chasing the sheep. Indeed, he admired not a little this first artistic effort of Elena’s, and right there and then he sat down with her and together they drew the pictures all over again, only this time much better as Elena herself realised. This was the little Princess’s first drawing lesson. After that Elena had a drawing lesson every day. She soon showed signs of a distinct talent in this direction and by the time she was ten years old she had not only conquered the first principles of drawing but she had also made considerable progress in the use of water colours. This talent Elena continued to develop, and with what success may be judged from the fact that when she was still a girl in her teens she became a kind of unofficial “Minister of Fine Arts” in her father’s cabinet. She was instrumental in bringing art exhibits into Montenegro, in organising drawing and painting classes in the public schools and thus for the first time bringing the refining and civilising influence of art culture to her people. She even inaugurated scholarships to encourage art students, and to-day Montenegro has a number of ambitious painters who are actually building up a school of art of their own. Influenced by the picturesque barrenness of their native mountains, together with the gorgeous skies and brilliant atmospheres, they are developing an individual and nationalist school. To this day, Queen Elena retains her interest in the native Montenegran artists, and also in her own drawing and painting. In the Quirinal Palace in Rome she has a studio, where of an afternoon she may frequently be found spending an hour at her easel. It is her custom each Christmas to send as gifts to her more intimate friends sketches and little water colours of her own handiwork.

Elena had other tutors than her father and grandfather, however. From a young child shehad a Swiss governess who was her daily companion, and who instructed her in French, and supplemented the teaching of her father in the other branches. It is thus the training of Elena from childhood was the training not only of a Princess but of one who might easily assume the duties and obligations of a Queen. It is not likely that the little Elena ever dared to dream of what her future might be or that her imaginings ever pictured that in womanhood she might occupy a throne as the consort of the King of a great nation, but her father is one of the most astute statesmen in Europe, and with all his children he arranged their education so that they might be acceptable to any high niche in life to which destiny might call them.

WhenElena was twelve years old an important change came into her life. She was sent away to St. Petersburg to enter the most wonderful school of its kind in the world. This was the famous, glorified boarding school for the daughters of the nobility which for many years has been patronised by the Empress Marie Feodorovna, wife of Tsar Alexander III and mother of the present Emperor, Nicholas II. Fancy a girls’ school where every pupil is a little Countess or Princess or Grand Duchess! In Russia the family titles usually descend to the children, so that this is no exaggeration. This school corresponds to one which exists for boys known as theCorps des Pages—or school of pages. The young sons of the nobility are sent here at an early age and are commonly spoken of as pages of the courts. Most of the boys who go to this school become officers and generally are assigned to the crack regiments which guard the persons of the sovereigns. As a rule only native Russians are admitted to these two exclusive schools, but the daughters of Prince Nicholas were easily granted place, because they were the daughters of a rulingPrince, and also because they had the rare advantage among non-Russians of already knowing Russian, or at least the Slav tongue which is very similar to Russian.

For six winters Elena continued at this school, and on her way to and from the northland capital she was taken to visit many of the famous art galleries of Europe. In St. Petersburg she had the privilege of the Hermitage Gallery, where is one of the foremost art collections in Europe, and in Dresden and Munich she became yet more widely acquainted with the masterpieces of the world’s art. Thus was her fondness for art gratified, and her general education broadened and enriched.

Another talent that Elena inherited was that of writing poetry. Her father, Nicholas, is a poet of no mean rank. Many of the folk songs of Montenegro which mothers croon to their babes at night, which shepherds in their lonely huts far up the mountain sides sing to give them cheer when fierce storms are sweeping over their steep pastures, were written by the Prince when he was a young man and during the forty years of his reign they have become so universal that already they are classic. Once indeed he wrote a very long poetic and romantic drama called “An Empress of the Balkans,” which his son, Mirko, Elena’s oldest brother, set to music. And this poetic instinct which her father has made such good use of in endearing himself to his people, is also strong inElena. For some reason, however, Elena has never been so proud of this talent as of her painting. Nevertheless she has published minor verse from time to time, and as one member of her suite told me once: “She writes still—but she does not own it.”

Curiously enough she once wrote a sonnet to Venice, which she called a “city of poetry, love and feeling.” This sonnet was published in a school magazine, and was written before she had ever visited the romantic city of islands. It was in this same Venice that she later met the Prince who was to make her a Queen, and where the love story of her life began.

In the spring of the year 1895, when Elena was twenty-two years old, she and her sister Anna came with their mother, Princess Melena, to the opening of the annual International Art Exhibition at Venice. This is one of the events of the year in the art world of Europe and is looked forward to almost as much as the annual salon in Paris and the Spring Academy Exhibition in London. The King and Queen frequently open the exhibition, and not infrequently distinguished members of other Royal houses are also present. So it was in the memorable month of April 1895. King Humbert and Queen Margherita with their son, the heir to the throne, the young Prince of Naples, travelled up from Rome to inaugurate the exhibition. Of course courtesy calls were exchanged between the sovereigns and the otherRoyal visitors present, including Princess Melena and her daughters.

Princess Elena was now a tall, large-framed woman of twenty-two. She had the physique of one much older, but her manner and face showed all the keenness and freshness of a young girl. By this time she had outgrown the hoydenish traits of her girlhood and there was dignity and repose in her manner. One feature distinguished her from other Princesses in Europe. She was totally free from the social veneer which comes inevitably from a long continuance of ceremonious life. Any Prince of a western European court would have been quick to notice this, and Prince Victor Emmanuel was by no means the least to fall under the spell of its charm.

Prince Victor Emmanuel as heir to the Italian throne was one of the most sought-after Princes in all Europe. Popular gossip had successively betrothed him to Princess Clementine, daughter of the King of the Belgians, to Princess Feodora of Schleswig-Holstein, sister of the Emperor of Germany, to Archduchess Annunziati, daughter of archduke Carl Ludwig of Austria; and to Princess Mary Magdalene, daughter of the King of Greece. The trouble with all of these alliances was, according to the Prince, that they were political rather than personal, and may it be writ large on the page of history that Victor Emmanuel had a romantic soul which would be satisfied whatever came of the political ambitions of his family.

THE QUEEN OF ITALY.

When grey and hoary councillors of state approached him in regard to the desirability of his marrying one or another of the Royal Princesses in the eligible list, he would shake his square head and turn aside saying, “I have time enough.” He knew that one day he would see the Princess whom he would love, and for her he was content to wait.

When in Venice, “The city of poetry, love and feeling,” he met for the first time Princess Elena of Montenegro, he promptly said to his Royal father, “There is the Princess I will marry.” Politically, little was to be gained for Italy by a marriage alliance with the little Balkan state, so Humbert, a wise king, counselled patience, though not actually opposing the will of the Crown Prince.

Elena and her mother and sister returned to their own country after only two days. But in those two days the Prince had found a time and place to speak. Only two days! Surely a brief courtship with an interminable round of official ceremonies consuming, as it seemed, all of the hours. Two busy days, yet the Prince of Naples had whispered the thrilling words and Elena, the Balkan Princess, knew that her future was henceforth spread in greater Europe.

Victor Emmanuelwas at this time considered one of the most desirable of eligible Princes in all Europe, not only because of his inheritance, but because of his intelligence and his character. Queen Victoria once called him “the most intelligent Prince in Europe.” As a child he had showed marked individuality and his father and mother, King Humbert and Queen Margherita, both being people of strong characteristics, had reared him in an atmosphere of strictest discipline which naturally had its effect upon the man. Like Napoleon, the little Victor Emmanuel was never ashamed to ask any question, nor did he ever ask any question twice. Until he was twelve years old his school hours were regulated by the state of his health, which was never robust, but on his twelfth birthday, he was given over into the hands of Colonel Osio, a famous soldier and disciplinarian, who planned an eight year course of training which included regular hours for everything, and resulted not only in developing the boy’s mind and sharpening his wits, but also in hardening his muscles and accustoming his constitution to all kinds of hardships and endurance tests.

One incident of this period of his life Victor Emmanuel has never forgotten. As a young boy he was not over strong, and frequently he contracted head colds. One morning he reported as usual at seven o’clock to his tutor, but coughing badly and his nose and eyes sorely inflamed. At eight o’clock Colonel Osio appeared to take the young Prince out for his usual hour of exercise on horseback. The day was rainy and disagreeable. The tutor ventured to suggest to Colonel Osio that their Royal charge was scarcely in fit condition to go out that morning. Whereupon the Colonel replied, “If war were declared to-morrow, would the Prince be allowed to stay indoors because he had a cold?” As the Colonel disappeared with the Prince the tutor exclaimed: “Ah! with these soldiers it is impossible to reason.”

When Victor Emmanuel began the study of Latin, his mother, the beloved Queen Margherita, took it up also! One day, she proved to him that she had made better progress than he. At the time the Prince made no comment upon this, but a little later when his tutor started to chide him about this Victor Emmanuel retorted somewhat sharply: “That is all very well, but my mother has nothing else to do, whilst I have a hundred other things to attend to!” An answer that every schoolboy and schoolgirl will surely appreciate.

Colonel Osio was without doubt a stern disciplinarian. As he outlined the daily schedule for the Prince, the rising hour was six o’clock, summerand winter. After a bath and simple breakfast, he sat down to his first lessons with his tutor. At eight o’clock he rode for an hour with the Colonel, then returned to his studies which continued all day. His very recreations were in the nature of studies, for being raised as a soldier he had to master all military tactics and to dig trenches, erect redoubts and obstructions with his own hands, so that in time of necessity he could the better command and direct his soldiers. As the motto set before the Prince was: “To know everything of something, and something of everything,” his studies were pursued the year round. During the dead of summer his books were laid by, but he was taken out of doors and kept busily at work, learning of nature, or all about guns and shooting, and ever subject to the discipline of hours.

The instructions of Colonel Osio to his tutor were: “Treat the Prince as you would treat any other pupil. Show him no special consideration nor regard. Indulge him in absolutely nothing. For example, if, during a lesson something is wanted, he and not you must get it. If a book falls to the floor, he, not you, must pick it up! You must profit by his self-esteem, highly developed in him, to exact from him firmly and always the fulfilment of all his duties.” “As for yourself,” the Colonel continued, looking full at the tutor, “I want you to understand that the interests at stake are so great, that if you fail in any way I shall show you no mercy.” As the tutor felt as much subjectto the rules and regulations laid down by the Colonel as did his pupil, it is needless to say that he was obeyed to the letter.

The Rev. Alexander Robertson who has lived many years in Italy, and who has made a searching study of the life of Victor Emmanuel, says that so completely did King Humbert give over the education of his heir to Colonel Osio that if the Prince even asked permission to accompany the King and Queen to the theatre the answer was invariably: “Ask the Colonel.” Thus was the young King trained. If the “child is father to the man,” from these gleanings of his boyhood and the stories of his early discipline, we may gather what manner of Prince it was who won the heart of the stately and beautiful Elena, Princess of Montenegro.

Mr. Robertson tells how on one occasion the little Prince Victor Emmanuel was playing with the small daughter of the Marchioness of Villamarina, who was then a Lady-in-Waiting to Queen Margherita, and the two children quarrelled, as all children will, over some trifle. Of a sudden the Prince became greatly enraged, and lost his temper. “When I am King I will have your head cut off!” he exclaimed loudly. Queen Margherita overheard these harsh words, and the Prince was put on prison fare for three days.

Victor Emmanuel and his wife, Elena, were destined to become sovereigns of Italy upon the tragic occasion when King Humbert was assassinated at his lovely mountain home of Monza in thenorth of the Kingdom. An interesting, if nerve-straining incident occurred when the Prince was present at a previous unsuccessful attempt upon the life of his father. This took place when Victor Emmanuel was only twelve years old. The King and his son were just leaving the railroad station in Naples when a man named Passananti, calling himself an anarchist, made a lunge with a stiletto full at the breast of the King. A minister who was also in the carriage was quick enough to turn aside the glittering blade. The King, with superb poise, drew his sword, and crashed it broadside over the would-be assassin’s head. Throughout the scene the young Prince sat immovable, not showing the slightest trace of fear. Courage may not be the highest virtue, but it is essential in a King, and in any one, never fails to excite admiration.

Queen Margherita was as exceptional a mother as she was an unusual Queen. As Queen Elena has of late years proved herself devoted to the Royal nursery, so Margherita always gave a large part of each day to the rearing of the heir apparent. She it was who insisted upon his keeping a strict account of all the money that passed through his hands. In this way he learned to appreciate the value of money—the little sums, the trifles which in themselves seem of no consequence, but which aggregate so large in the course of months. Under directions, he also kept a diary, in order that he might not be prodigal in the use of time—themoments we are all so apt to waste carelessly and thoughtlessly a score of times each day.

It was the custom of the Prince to lunch with the King and Queen certain days each week. One day the King was occupied with his ministers much longer than usual, and the luncheon hour was long past. The Prince ventured to remark to the Queen, somewhat petulantly, that he was hungry and couldn’t wait any longer for his meal. Crossing the room to a bookshelf, the Queen took a copy of Dante and laid it before the boy, saying: “Read this, and your hunger will all go.”

Any boy, especially a Prince, would naturally possess qualities of attractive manhood that would appeal to a woman of domestic instincts. That Princess Elena possessed these innate qualities her life since testifies. To her, unquestionably, Victor Emmanuel seemed an ideal Prince. There was only one element to this romance which is distinctly unromantic, and of this Victor Emmanuel is very sensitive. He is a small man, distinctly under-sized, while Elena towers far above him when they are standing side by side. Nowadays the King has his carriage in the Royal stables built with a specially elevated seat, like a coachman’s box, so that this discrepancy in size is not so apparent when they drive.

Nowthat we know more about Victor Emmanuel, we can follow the course of the love match between him and Princess Elena with more familiarity and interest. It is strange that these young lovers from two of the southermost, warmest countries of Europe must go for the second chapter of their romance to the northermost, coldest country on the continent. Yet so was it to be. Their next meeting was in far away Moscow, the occasion was the Coronation of the present Tsar. Here another coincidence appears. Four years before when Princess Elena was finishing her course at the Royal Academy in St. Petersburg she was presented at the Court of Alexander III through the influence of her sister, the Grand Duchess Melitza. Soon after this a rumour was circulated throughout Europe that the eyes of the young Nicholas, heir to the Russian Throne, had looked with favour upon the Montenegran Princess. Certain it is that Elena’s father, wily Prince Nicholas, did not discourage this match, but the young Tsarevitch had long before set his heart upon a German Princess—Alix of Hesse and the Rhine—and if he looked upon Elena at all it was only an idle flirtation, for his mind was made up in regard to his consort long before Elena went to Petersburg.

The Prince of Naples represented the Italian sovereigns at the Russian Coronation festivities, while Elena was a guest of her sister. Naturally, the two met. This was only their second meeting, but from the noticeable intimacy that immediately sprang up between them it was evident that the Venice meeting had been followed by a lively correspondence. The Coronation procession was the most splendid pageant of the closing decade of the nineteenth century, and the balls and dinners which were given in honour of the accession of Nicholas II to the throne of his fathers, the most magnificent that human ingenuity and unlimited wealth could devise. Against this golden background Prince Victor Emmanuel and Princess Elena pursued their courtship, indefatigably, if not always discreetly. Even the Tsar was not so engrossed that he did not observe the daring suit of the Italian Prince. Having a kind of paternal interest in Montenegro, Tsar Nicholas felt it not improper to express his good will toward these two sweethearts and it was largely through his personal interest and encouragement that the betrothal was finally arranged. When the coronation festivities were over and the myriad royal and noble guests from all parts of the world returned to their homelands, it was pretty generally understood that the Prince of Naples would presently wed the Montenegran Princess.

Toward the middle of August of the Russian Coronation year, to the surprise of no one, the Italian Royal yachtCajola, having aboard the Crown Prince, rounded Cape S. Marie de Leucca, prow pointed toward Cattaro, the port of Cettenje, the capital of Montenegro. A large part of the Montenegran population gathered along the shore to welcome the Italian Prince. All knew what his coming meant. All appreciated, too, his coming in person, for Royal etiquette allows that on such an occasion a Prince may send an ambassador and Royal entourage to formally arrange the details of official betrothal and marriage. Cettenje was arrayed in gala dress as never before in its history. As a local newspaper quaintly but enthusiastically put it, “the twenty-five hundred people comprising the entire population of the capital met on the one street of the town shouting their greetings.” Surely in this alone is romance enough for one lifetime, the Princess of a country whose capital has one street, whose entire population is twenty-five hundred, about to become the Crown Princess, and presently the Queen, of one of the first powers of Europe!

The official announcement of the betrothal was made August 18, 1896. Two days later a great hunt was organised by Prince Nicholas and his oldest son Mirko, in honour of the event. All of the Prince’s household and all of the suite of the Prince of Naples were invited to participate. The two lovers alone declined. At such a time, theysaid, when they were both so happy they preferred not to spill one drop of blood, for that would be to mar their own happiness! For two young people unusually keen for the hunt and both splendid shots, this was indeed a delightful sentiment.

Shortly after this hunt the Prince of Naples returned to Rome to begin preparations for the reception of his bride. On the second day of October—just six weeks later—Elena held her last conference with her father, who brought her to the quay where lay the ship that was to convey her to Italian soil. When Prince Nicholas had said his last farewell and kissed his beloved daughter on both cheeks, he turned and slowly climbed the hill behind the town, on which stands a chapel. Entering the tiny church the Prince fell to his knees and there remained for a long time absorbed in silent prayer.

When he emerged once more, the ship to which he had consigned Elena was but a speck in the distance, across the deep blue waters of the Adriatic. They did not meet again before the marriage, which took place in Rome.

Elena landed at the Italian port of Bari. Her first act was to go up to the old town church, and there be received into the Roman Catholic Church. Montenegro, like all Slav countries is still under the domination of the Greek Catholic Church, and it was in this Church that Elena had been reared. The difficulties of her release from the Greek Church were made simple by the personal appealof the Tsar of Russia, whose influence is all powerful with the Greek hierarchy, who bespoke a friendly word on behalf of the young Princess.

The marriage was to take place in the great hall of the Quirinal Palace. An incident occurred at this time, which, though trifling, is not wanting of a certain savour.

The private apartment of Queen Margherita had been designated for the formation of the cortège. Prince Nicholas and Princess Elena, by inattention, or because it had been omitted to inform them, entered the Quirinal from the stairs of honour and found only the Mayor of Rome who had come to assist at the marriage. Happily the Prince of Naples had witnessed this scene from the window of the Palace. He ran immediately to relieve their perplexity and escorted Prince Nicholas and his own Princess to the Queen’s apartment.

When the time of the ceremony arrived, Count Gianotti took the head of the cortège. Behind the King and the Queen walked Prince Nicholas and Princess Elena, the Duke of Oporto and Princess Laetitia, Prince Victor Napoleon and Princess Helena of Aosta, the Duke of Aosta and the Dowager Duchess of Genoa, Prince Mirko and the Duchess Isabel of Genoa, the Count of Turin and Princess Anna, sister of Princess Helena, and then the Civil and Military houses of the sovereigns.

Monseigneur Auzine brought a silver veil that the Duke of Aosta, the Count of Turin, Prince

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