FOUR GENERATIONS: THE PRINCE OF PIEDMONT, HIS FATHER THE KING, THE DOWAGER QUEEN MARGHERITA, AND HER MOTHER, THE DUCHESS OF GENOA.
FOUR GENERATIONS: THE PRINCE OF PIEDMONT, HIS FATHER THE KING, THE DOWAGER QUEEN MARGHERITA, AND HER MOTHER, THE DUCHESS OF GENOA.
FOUR GENERATIONS: THE PRINCE OF PIEDMONT, HIS FATHER THE KING, THE DOWAGER QUEEN MARGHERITA, AND HER MOTHER, THE DUCHESS OF GENOA.
Mirko and Prince Harageorgevitch, to-day King of Servia, unfolded and kept over the bride and bridegroom during the whole ceremony.
After the ceremony Elena was more than ever nervous and deeply moved; her olive skin grew exquisitely white, almost like alabaster. The sun, which up to that moment had loitered behind clouds, suddenly broke through the misty screen, suffusing the whole city in a glorious fulsome light The bells of the American Church in Rome nearby, began to chime the Wedding March from Lohengrin, and from the great Roman populace gathered in the streets near the Palace went up a tumultuous cheer. Thus propitiously began the married life of the most romantic Royal couple of that time in Europe.
To compensate for their all-too-brief courtship, Prince Victor Emmanuel decided that their honeymoon should be protracted, and far from the eyes of the curious. To accomplish this they went at once to the distant isles of Greece, to the romantic coast of Sicily, to wherever waters are emerald, skies azure blue and the days golden. In their own yacht they managed to escape from all public vision, and so weeks and months were spent like a prolonged summer idyl. Never were lovers more secluded, more care-free, more at ease, less trammelled to live with and for each other, as fiercely and as intensely as the flame within them burned. The world heard little of them on this long honeymoon trip of theirs. Sometimes a message came from an Algerian or Tunisian port, or from a remote Mediterranean spot like the Island of Monte Christo, where they spent untold happy weeks.
This Island of Monte Christo, belonging to Victor Emmanuel, is very secluded. Only the members of the household are allowed thereon. The Prince liked being there free of all responsibility and unrestrained to enjoy absolute liberty.
As a bride Elena gave herself to a unique régime for a Royal Princess—she shared in the household work, performing with her own hands the duties of the home. This policy was adopted because the young couple dreaded to have others, even servants, about them, and this lonely island was, perhaps, the only place where they could find absolute seclusion and isolation.
This Royal property, which for a certain time was called Gombo, was the favourite residence of the grand dukes of Tuscany. It formed a part of the private estate of Victor Emmanuel II, who, as an indefatigable hunter, used to make there a hecatomb of deers and fallow-deers. About 1865 he ordered the building surrounded at a distance of twenty yards from the shore by a wood fence posed on pillars; he often spent there the night, lying on a couch in order to hear, on his awaking, the rocking song of the waves.
Once during their protracted honeymoon Elena and her Prince went on a great hunting trip far up in semi-Arctic regions around the White Sea.I have heard tales of this trip from the lips of a Montenegran artist who was one of the party, and I have seen photographs of Elena and her Prince-bridegroom skurrying across frozen ice packs, bringing down Arctic game with their rifles, fishing through the ice for great deep sea fish—filling the days and weeks with pure pleasure, storing up joy against the years when the cares and responsibilities of state should hold them ever close to home. For four years this dream life went on. Then, in the summer of 1900, they were on one of their long cruises among the Greek Islands when they were rudely awakened. News reached them of the assassination of King Humbert! Both Elena and Victor Emmanuel knew what this meant. Their yacht was quickly turned toward Italy. This was their last care-free cruise.
At this time Victor Emmanuel shut up within his heart the tortures he was enduring, to meet as a courageous man the duties imposed on him by that misfortune. But Elena, who had become devoted to her new family, was completely overcome and abandoned herself wholly to her sorrow, weeping and crying aloud: “My father!” “My good father!”
On their journey to Monza, the scene of the tragedy, and on their arrival at the station at Naples, Elena, weeping bitterly, pressed on the bosom of her Lady-in-Waiting. Victor Emmanuel, by the side of the Duke of Genoa, looked almost overpowered by sorrow, but he bore up bravely. Heinvited the Prefecto and General Brusate to come near him. He shook hands with them and talked to them with a heavy voice veiled by tears. “It seems to me,” said he to them, “that I am under the effect of a dream; such a horrible murder seems to me impossible!”
With the tragic death of King Humbert, Prince Victor Emmanuel became king, and his Montenegran Princess Elena, Queen of Italy. In nearly every country where kings and queens sit upon thrones, the Coronation ceremony is a spectacle of great splendour and magnificence, but in Italy it is scarcely a ceremony at all. So far as the Queen is concerned, it amounted to nothing, while the King merely appears before the Parliament and takes his vows of allegiance and devotion to Italy and the Italian people. The simplicity of this sacred occasion is in peculiarly fitting keeping with the mind and character of Victor Emmanuel.
For four years he and his bride had basked in the sunshine of love and romance. They had led the most ideal and romantic of lives. With their accession the more serious business of life began. Elena presently became a mother, first of a girl, then of another girl, then of a son, and then of a third daughter.
Theprettiest sight I know in Rome is when the Royal Princesses and the little Crown Prince, Humbert, go driving. I lived for a winter in an apartment adjoining the Quirinal Palace, so that it frequently fell to me to catch glimpses of the Royal Family going or coming. Like the King and Queen, they drive out almost daily during the months the Royal Family spend in the capital, but it was the little ones who always caught my eye and made me turn to watch so long as they were in view. Usually there are the three girls, and a nursemaid holding the Prince on her knees. Their carriage is an ordinary two-horsed, double-seated coach. Immediately behind the carriage always ride two guards, on bicycles, men in plain, dark-blue clothes with knee breeches. A stranger in the city would not even notice them, although if one were observant he might observe many of the passers-by lifting their hats and turning to watch. Almost every pleasant afternoon, when the King is in residence in Rome, immediately after lunch, or on a Saturday forenoon, the children are driven just outside the walls of Rome to Villa Savoy, a playhouse which is all their own. During that portion ofthe year spent in Rome this is practically the only change they have from the Palace nursery and the Quirinal gardens—the latter by no means a cramped play-ground. When the Duke of Ascoli, Gentleman-in-Waiting to Queen Elena, first showed me these grounds I was quite astounded by their extent and their unique beauty. There are long avenues of boxwood hedges, groves of dark firs and picturesque parasol pines, fields of untended grass and acres of carefully nurtured flowers. And all this behind the dull yellow Quirinal walls, fairly in the centre of the city. But any growing kiddies long for more than the yard of a city home, though that yard attain the proportions of a park, and the home be a Palace. Villa Savoy supplies the want, and here the children have their ponies and their pet donkey. Here Queen Elena, too, finds relief and refreshment, for the quiet of the children’s playhouse is never intruded upon by the court or visitors who are not intimates of the Royal Family.
The Italian sovereigns are striving to purify and elevate the atmosphere and tone of their court so that their children may grow up in sweet home surroundings, protected from the careless waywardness of the aristocratic world of Europe. Some call it a “straight-laced” court. One influence which may be responsible for this may be traced to an incident in the schoolboy days of the King.
When the King was a youth of sixteen he determined to change his handwriting from the ordinary sloping hand in universal vogue to the so-called vertical. The formula which he took for his motto was, “Writing straight, paper straight, body straight.” This boyhood motto has been before him ever since. One of the first things the present King and Queen Elena did, upon their accession to the Throne, was to attach to their personsonlymarried couples. Ladies-in-Waiting to the Queen could only be married ladies whose husbands were during the same period Gentlemen-in-Waiting to the King. This was an early step toward elevating the moral standards of the Italian Court. Italian aristocracy had not been renowned for virtuous living, but the present sovereigns holding to a high standard of morality determined to purify the court in so far as in them lay by banishing from active service all ladies and gentlemen whose names had ever been bandied by current gossip. This crusade, if it may be so called, was aided by the existing laws of the country which are still sufficiently under the influence of the Roman Catholic Church to prohibit divorce. No divorced man or woman has standing in Queen Elena’s court. King Victor Emmanuel is himself extremely devoted to his Queen and this devotion has often led to his being charged with intense jealousy. Whether or not this is true, his attitude toward Elena has resulted in her more and more withdrawing from the companionship of people of the court and devoting herself to her children. It isa pretty picture, that of the home life of this Queen. Six months of the year the Royal Family live at the Quirinal Palace in Rome. The remainder of the year is spent at various palaces and castles in different parts of the Kingdom, but chiefly at Monza in the North, where the summers are delightful. The long cruises and excursions that they were wont to indulge in previous to their accession—cruises in the Mediterranean and the Levant, hunting trips to Spitzbergen and the far North—are now a thing of the past, and a simple home life is their daily régime.
The marriage took place in 1896. Their first child, Yolanda, was born June 1st, 1901. Royal babies are never permitted to do with only two or three Christian names. They must perpetuate the names of grandfathers and grandmothers, and not infrequently of uncles and aunts and grand-uncles and grand-aunts besides. Thus the full name of the first little Italian Princess is Yolanda Margherita Milena Elizabeth Romana Maria! The next little Princess, born November 19th, 1902, was christened Mafalda Maria Elizabeth Anna Romana. On the 15th September, 1904, at the Château of Racconigi the boy was born. This was a momentous day for Elena and Victor Emmanuel, for the boy, if he lives, will eventually occupy the throne of his fathers, and the birth of a Crown Prince is a matter of utmost importance in the household of a Royal Family, and indeed in the
THE ROYAL CHILDREN OF ITALY.
THE ROYAL CHILDREN OF ITALY.
THE ROYAL CHILDREN OF ITALY.
annals of a nation. Queen Elena had been married eight years, all but one month, when His Royal Highness Prince Humbert arrived. There was some difficulty in finding suitable names for the future King, especially a first name which he would carry as King. The Royal Household was divided between the name of Victor Emmanuel, after his father, and Charles Emmanuel. The choice was finally left to the baby Prince’s Royal father who said, “it was a good custom which was followed in some families of naming the first girl after the grandmother and the first boy after the grandfather.” So the name Umberto, or Humbert as we write it in English, was chosen.
Since the birth of the Crown Prince, one more child has been born to Queen Elena, a Princess, who is called Giovanna. She is still a wee child, having been born as recently as November 13, 1907.
Princess Yolanda, the first born, has colouring and features very like her mother, while Mafalda and Humbert are more like their father.
Queen Elena herself spends a great share of her time with the children, and while they have the usual nurses and governesses, the latter of whom are already teaching the three older children French and English in addition to Italian, Queen Elena perhaps does more with her own hands than any other Queen mother in Europe. For example, she always bathes them, she is present at their supper hour and when they are being made readyfor bed; each afternoon she tries to spend two hours with them at their play. Thus their training is very largely in her hands. The children are all very young still, but the two older girls are beginning to appreciate the love and devotion of their mother, for little Mafalda recently remarked to a gentleman of the court: “Mamma is the comfort of everyone in trouble.”
The Queen’s birthday falls on January 8th. The year of the terrible earthquake at Messina Her Majesty returned to Rome from the devastated regions on the eve of her birthday. This year, oppressed by the terrible scenes she had witnessed, she abolished all of the usual festivities in her honour and devoted the forenoon to superintending the making of garments for the Messina orphans in one of the Quirinal Palace rooms which she had made into a temporary workroom. In the afternoon she made a round of the Rome hospitals, visiting all of the “earthquake children,” and with her own hands distributing sweets and little gifts, thus endeavouring to bring a gleam of sunshine into their darkened lives, and helping them for the moment to forget their sufferings. When someone spoke to her afterwards of this beautiful way of celebrating her birthday, she replied: “When these children grow up they may remember my birthday.” Her own children, too, were encouraged on this occasion to remember the wounded and orphaned victims. Instead of purchasing presents for their mother, according to their usual custom,they put the money into the Relief Fund, to which all the world was contributing. Little Prince Humbert brought his favourite plaything, a set of toy soldiers, to his mother and said: “Take this for the poor children.”
TheItalian Prince and Princesses, though they live in very beautiful Palaces, are simply brought up, and are not encouraged to have extravagant toys. Formerly, and even now sometimes, it has been the custom of foreign Ambassadors to the Italian Court, and even other sovereigns, to send gorgeous toys, and magnificent great dolls as big as the Princesses themselves, to these children. Queen Elena, fearing to have them grow accustomed to toys so much richer and better than other children, had taught them to surrender these things to poor children by sending them to hospital wards. Now the playthings of the Royal children are just ordinary toys like those that most children have and enjoy.
The Queen endeavours to make her children forget that they are of Royal blood, or in any way different from other children. In this particular she is very different from the Tsaritsa, who never allows her children or her court to forget that her son will one day be an Autocrat and Tsar of all the Russias, that her daughters are Grand Duchesses, and must, therefore, be kowtowed to by every Prince and granddame of the court.
While I was in Rome, Queen Elena related the following anecdote of her own children, which illustrates her simplicity of attitude toward the Italian Prince and Princesses.
The young Prince Humbert was recently put through an examination by his two older sisters, who wished to have an experience of their brother’s knowledge about colours.
Yolanda, pointing with her hand to the cloth of a piece of the furniture, asked: “What colour is this?”
“It is red,” Humbert readily answered, without mistake.
“And that other piece of furniture, what colour is it?”
For the second time the young Prince gave a right answer.
“It is green,” he said.
But Mafalda wanted to take part, too, in what they intended to be the first examination of the future King of Italy.
“What colour are your small shoes?”
Here the matter became rather complicated. As far as it was a question of usual colours, little Humbert had found no difficulty in answering, but now, looking at his small shoes, he found that they had to him an unknown colour. But he was not discouraged, especially as he perceived on his sister’s lips a light smile, which could not be interpreted as of approval. It was clear that his wily sisters were teasing him.
“Well, what colour are they?”
Vanquished? Not he. “My shoes are Marron glacé,” he replied.
Yolanda and Mafalda laughed gaily at that answer, and little Humbert, considering himself scorned by them, began to weep, and ran to his mother for help.
Queen Elena endeavoured to explain to the little examiners that the Prince’s answer was right, as the little shoes had really a beautiful chestnut colour bright and brilliant.
Humbert is not fond of being quizzed by his sisters, and he is rather inclined to be resentful. Indeed, this little Crown Prince is a born soldier of a fighting disposition, and many a nursery quarrel does the Queen have to settle. He is ever ready to defend with great boldness his small soldiers, his guns and his swords and other favourite toys, which Mafalda and Yolanda attempt sometimes to take from him. Humbert has one amusing weakness. He is fond of the two black eyes and beautiful little face of one of his sisters’ dolls. Sometimes he wants to take possession of this doll. Unhappily, his sisters are not always disposed to let him have it.
Ordinarily Humbert is glad to assume rather a martial air, and to dress in military uniforms. But the uniform that he likes best is a smart one of a Cuirassier regiment with boots, cuirasse and helmet. The little fellow distinctly prefers the company of boys of his own age, and he enjoys the littlefriends that he is allowed to have, and who are the children of the Ladies at Court.
One of these little friends, a boy of five years who showed himself enthusiastic over his Princely friend, was asked if he loved him much.
“Yes, I love him very much, because he never complains when they take something belonging to him, and he never cheats,” he replied.
“And Yolanda and Mafalda, and the little Giovanna?”
“Yolanda and Mafalda, I like them also, but they always laugh at us men!”
Yolanda, who is especially beloved by all those who live closely to her, has always been a lively young girl with a frank and gay smile. Being the eldest sister, she endeavours to look in some manner the wisest and most serious, and she is at the same time the most charitable and kindly. In fact, it is known to everyone, that many times she answers the letters that the little girls of the people address to her continually, by sending to them as a gift some of her own toys, of which she willingly deprives herself.
There is in her a lovely soul, which appears in a thousand ways and especially in the unlimited affection to her parents.
An old friend of the Queen’s once asked her to show her an ancient photograph very dear to her, representing Queen Elena having Yolanda on her lap, when she was only two or three months old.
The Queen afterwards sent for Yolanda, andshowed her the photograph. The little Princess, seeing her mother in the portrait, asked with suspicious anxiety who was the child she was keeping in her lap.
“She is a dear baby, of whom I am very fond,” said the Queen.
Yolanda’s face turned very serious, and after she looked again at the photograph, she could not abstain from showing a certain contempt.
“Don’t you see how ugly she is, Mamma? Throw it away.”
“You are wrong,” the Queen answered, “you are this baby. It is really you when you were very little.”
Then Yolanda smiled gladly, and changing at once her opinion, she said, with plenty of content: “Oh, yes, she is very handsome. You may keep it.”
Yolanda is in fact so affectionate to her mother that she hates in her heart all those duties which keep the Queen away from her. She, as also Mafalda and Humbert, like much better the beautiful days spent wholly near their parents, among the green hills of Racconigi, Sant’ Anna di Valdiere, and San Rossore.
Victor Emmanuel, leaving all cares of state in the full liberty of his acts, thinks only to play with his children from whom he never is widely separated, and who are really his all-absorbing joy. Even in Rome, the King, his duties accomplished, spends the rest of each day in the intimacy of his family.
Italy’sQueen has a wonderful reputation the world around for her heroism and daring. More than once she has rendered signal and distinguished service when great disasters have visited her country, so that this reputation is not undeserved.
I have some personal knowledge of this side of her character and it is a privilege to give her full credit. There are other sides of her life as a Queen, however, in which she falls lamentably short of her position. Of these I shall have to speak also.
Queen Elena and the King were in Rome at the time of the great earthquake which devastated Southern Calabria and the western tip of Sicily. No sooner had the first authentic reports reached their Majesties than they started for Messina, travelling to Naples by special train and then by the Italian cruiserRegina Elena. As it happened, I arrived at Messina, also by sea, at almost the same moment as the Flagship. I was put ashore, to visit the wrecked city, in a small boat, and not one hundred yards away a little drab launch was bouncing over the rude waves toward what was left of a slanting stage, bearing King Victor Emmanuel. On the deck of theRegina Elena, anxiously watching each rise and fall of the little boat, stood the Queen. From almost the same angle I could watch the progress toward shore, only when the King stepped ashore I was much nearer, and therefore could see more distinctly the panic-stricken survivors hurling themselves madly at the feet of their King, and could hear much better the wild shouts: “Vive Vitorio Emmanuele!” It was a strange, weird hurrah, coming from the lips of the bereaved, the sorely stricken, the wounded, the dying. Certainly it impressed me deeply. Later, from an officer aboard the cruiser, I heard that the Queen was moved as never before in her life, and well she might be. Before her, in endless panorama, lay the ruined, smoking city. The King, and the crowd he attracted, loomed big on the quay, the foreground. Behind, stretching to the orange and lemon clad hills which after a mile rise abruptly to a great height, lay the biggest pile of human suffering, of dead bodies and pinioned, starving living that the world has known in many centuries. Yet out of this ghastly picture arose the cry: “Long live the King!” “Long live Queen Elena!” Truly it was overpowering. The Queen stood it as long as she could, and then with her hands pressed to her face she went sobbing to her cabin.
After an hour the King returned to the ship. The Queen met him at the gangway. Now her tears were dried. She wore a long nurse’s apron,and from that hour, so long as she remained near the scene of disaster, Queen Elena worked as a nurse. With her own hands she bandaged the bleeding. She assisted at amputations and other serious operations and from time to time she visited other ships that were caring for the injured and spoke the cheering words, which, coming from the sovereign, meant so much more than any stimulant.
In connection with this dire catastrophe there was at least one incident that was full of humour. M. Tardieu, a French journalist, had occasion to visit the Minister of Marine who was of the Royal party aboard the Flagship. When Tardieu had finished his business, the Minister, pointing to a parrot which was occupying a prominent place on the deck, related this story:
“A squad of Italian soldiers at work among the ruins heard a voice crying ‘Maria,’ ‘Maria.’ They dug for hours getting nearer, but always the voice cried unceasingly ‘Maria,’ ‘Maria.’ At last when they reached the room from which the sounds were coming they found not a human being but a parrot. But, in the adjoining room was Maria, a young girl, alive and well. When the Queen heard of this she sent to have both the parrot and its mistress brought aboard the Flagship.” As the Minister finished relating the story, M. Tardieu doffed his cap to the bird and began a garrulous speech of congratulations. At that moment the King appeared on deck and seeing the Frenchman addressing the parrot in all solemnity and dignity he paused to listen. Tardieu, looking up and seeing the King, again removed his hat and salaamed low. Whereupon the King advanced smiling, with extended hand. He chatted with the French journalist for a few moments and sent an informal message to the French people. The account of the adventure Tardieu published under the clever caption: “How a Parrot Introduced Me to the King.” This girl was only one of many whom Queen Elena became interested in in Messina, and who have become her special charges now in Rome—wards of the Queen.
The example set by Queen Elena in going to Messina was followed by scores of ladies of the Italian court, who left their homes, and, boarding warships and joining relief expeditions, served as volunteer nurses. They established field hospitals all along the devastated coasts and among the hill villages. It was splendid, heroic service and must be so recorded. Between the work of the ladies of the court and the work of the Queen was this difference only. The Queen remained for five or six days, while the others remained four or five weeks. The Queen was decorated by half the monarchs of Europe—not so the others. But being the Queen, and having gone there at all, setting the example of personal service, her mite (comparatively) counted for more than the actual work of all the others combined.
When Vesuvius vomited forth its torrents of flaming destruction a few years ago, Queen Elena and the King at once set forth in an automobile upon the same mission of comfort and mercy. And again, when Calabria was visited by a lesser earthquake, in 1905.
Italy, one is sometimes tempted to believe, was the last place God made, and he has never rested satisfied with His handiwork. No country that I know has a more tragic history. Death in horrible forms is forever sweeping over some portion of the land, while geological changes under the earth are shaking, jostling and altering her surface contour. Ever since Elena became Queen she has worked with zeal during the dark days of these numerous calamities. Fate has been strangely, rudely kind to her, too, in ordaining that she should be near at hand on many occasions when accidents have befallen—railroad accidents, fires, as well as dire disasters. Always has the Queen hurried to the danger point and risen to the crisis.
When a collision took place between two trains one dark night, at “Castel-Giubileo,” the Queen, immediately informed, was the first ready to run to the spot of the catastrophe. The horrible scene that appeared, the painful screams of the wounded, the great number of victims, brought tears to her eyes. But the anxiety which possessed her, could not make her forget her duty. While the King himself was organising the help, she, the young Queen, was stooping over the wounded, encouraging and comforting them. Awoman, whose limbs were broken to pieces, was lying on the road. The Queen rushed to her, kneeled down, kissed her and tried to encourage her to fortitude. She pursued all the night her consolatory work and left “Castel-Giubileo,” only after she was satisfied that not a single victim had been forgotten under the remains of the ruined trains.
Inview of the long list of dramatic, if terrible, events that have from time to time made Queen Elena the most striking figure in Italy, it would be the simplest matter in the world for her to make herself the most popular Queen on any throne in Europe. As a matter of fact, in spite of her heroism and her daring; in spite of her romantic girlhood and idyllic years of early married life—which strongly appeal to the naturally sentimental Italian people—in spite of her charming home life, there is no doubt that she is one of the most unpopular Queens in Europe. Her court, which, to meet the tastes of her people, should be bright, popular, brilliant, is really the dullest, the most stupid in the western world. I have lived in many countries, and I am more or less familiar with all the countries of Europe, but never have I heard a Queen so universally spoken of with disrespect and disapproval by her own court. Of course, Queen Elena cannot be charged with the sole responsibility, for the King shares the opprobrium and may, after all, be the one to blame. It is, nevertheless, a disappointing task that is set the chronicler of Italian court life of to-day. Elena, as wehave seen, was born fairly in the lap of romance. Her life should have worked out to an ideal fulfilment. Extraordinary opportunities have been hers, but she has never taken advantage of the great popularity they have given her. A Queen’s life is one of stern duty, intensely hard, and excessively demanding from many quarters. Queen Elena, in an American phrase, “plays to the gallery,” then retires. She garners the wheat and ignores the chaff. She is quick to follow dramatic exploits, but reluctant to submit to the daily grind.
The Duke of Ascoli, personal friend and adjutant to the Queen, was much embarrassed when I asked him to tell me about the charities of Queen Elena. He mentioned Calabria, Vesuvius, certain children’s hospitals and orphanages, and there he paused. It is, to me, inexplicable that a Queen who as the Princess of a little State like Montenegro should have done so much for the people of the country, been a patroness of the arts and done all the things that Elena did, and then, as Queen of a great nation do so little. Rightly or wrongly, Queen Elena has the reputation among her own people for being the stingiest Queen in Europe. Apparently this is true. She patronises almost nothing at all, regularly, and if once in a while she lends her name to appear on a public bill, it usually means this and nothing more. So far as is known, she gives less to charity, in proportion to her means, than any Queen. In this she is in unhappy contrast to the Queen-Mother who, whenshe was on the Throne, did very much to encourage painting, music and sculpture throughout Italy. This fact rather discredits the only excuse I have ever heard offered for Queen Elena, namely, that she and the King have many Palaces to maintain, inheritances which have come to them from the many dukedoms and little states which were brought together to make up “United Italy.” Queen Margherita and King Humbert had the same number of estates, but their charity and philanthropic list was long and striking.
Queen Elena has one boast. She says that less has been written of her than of any Queen in the world, and she is very proud of it. My own impression is that Queen Elena realises that if more of the facts of her selfish nature were made world-wide that she would cease to be the object of veneration that she is to-day. If the world at large appreciated to what extent she has carried her ideas of simplicity in dress, the glamour that surrounds her would fade. It is impossible to worship a dowd—especially if the lady be a Queen with all the splendour and taste of the world at her hand.
I have seen her driving in the Campagna, or even through the streets of Rome, when I would never have believed her the occupant of her exalted position, had I not known her. It is somewhat ungallant to dwell upon these things, but Queen Elenacanwear good clothes, as her court costumes testify. It is because she simplydoesn’t, thatmakes her a slouch in dress. One need not be extravagant in clothes to be tasteful, but Queen Elena is not even tasteful. Here again, she is in unfortunate contrast to the Queen-Mother who, still living in Rome, is always exquisitely gowned, and no matter how simply, always with unerring taste. Queen Elena is, indeed, sorely handicapped by the presence of Queen Margherita in the capital, for her popular affection will last as long as she lives, and a woman of Elena’s calibre can never, even at best, supplant her.
The most ungracious task in the world is sometimes to tell the truth. When writing of Kings and Queens, one is expected to write in adulation. I have done my best for Queen Elena, in telling the story of her younger life in all its vivid and alluring colouring; and I have paid full tribute to Elena, the Mother. But the picture is not yet complete. Elena the Queen is, after all, of first importance to the nation. We, in America, believe that the institution of kingship—“divine right of Kings” and all the rest—is largely archaic twaddle. Queen Elena, of all living Queens, illustrates the emptiness of Queenship as it exists to-day. I would not give the impression that the Queen and King of Italy are cruel tyrants like the lately deposed Sultan of Turkey, or autocrats like the Tsar and Tsaritsa of Russia; nor are they active elements in the social life of the nation like the Kings and Queens of England and Spain, or the Emperor and Empress of Germany. What Queen Elenaand King Victor Emmanuel represent, however, are, the biggest of social parasites. They draw an enormous revenue of many millions annually from a heartbreakingly poor population, and give the minimum in return.
I am quite aware that I speak in no measured terms, but a surprising number of people in Italy—men and women of the Court—have begged me to state the truth concerning their sovereigns to the world. Perchance they themselves may take from the lips of an unbiassed observer from overseas what no one of their subjects dare to say. While not an apostle of social revolution in Italy, I may perhaps be so suspected, unless I state that it is the full indifference to everyday affairs of the Italian sovereigns, especially the Queen, that breeds the widest discontent. The Italian court, as a whole, is not politically restless so much as discouraged and disgusted with their apathetic monarchs.
The four years of blissful honeymooning enjoyed by Victor Emmanuel and Elena seems to have spoiled them for taking up the tasks of sovereigns. They seem to have lived too much unto and for themselves. One indication of this is the almost ludicrous jealousy of the King. He guards Elena with the greatest care, and few indeed are the male members of the Court who ever approach her save on formal occasions. The sovereigns always have their meals alone together. It was the custom of the former monarchs to have the King’s adjutant and the Queen’s lady-in-waiting at the table; at dinner there were nearly always guests. Not so Victor Emmanuel. He prefers to be as much as possible alone with his spouse, and never entertains at dinner save when duty demands it. It must be said that he gives Elena a true and loyal devotion and he is one of the very few, if not the only monarch in Europe, against whom no word of unkind gossip has ever been spoken.
The closely watchful attitude of the King may be in some measure responsible for the impression which is pretty general that Elena is a timid, shy woman. There are several anecdotes recalled to illustrate this trait, each of them, to me, interesting.
One afternoon, near the beginning of her reign, Elena had attended a function given by the Dowager-Queen. Queen Elena arrived somewhat late and reached the door of the Salon unattended. There was a large company present and Queen Elena paused, as if in embarrassment, until Queen Margherita, seeing her, came forward and taking her by the hand led her into the room.
On the rare occasions when Italian Royalty patronise the theatre or opera, Elena, if she knows the Queen-Mother is to be present, arrives a little late, and leaves a little early, so that the homage Queen Margherita had been accustomed to during so many years may still be hers.
Social shyness is a thing apart from physical courage, of which, we all know Queen Elena has
SNAPSHOTS BY QUEEN ELENA: THE KING AND HER CHILDREN.
SNAPSHOTS BY QUEEN ELENA: THE KING AND HER CHILDREN.
SNAPSHOTS BY QUEEN ELENA: THE KING AND HER CHILDREN.
an abundance. The formalities of ceremonial court life are irksome to Queen Elena, and the afternoon “teas” that she holds for the court are stripped of all their formidableness by the present mistress of the Quirinal.
Among the English colony in Rome is an aged lady whom Queen Elena calls to court once every year for a tête-à-tête. During the past year she has grown very deaf. Queen Elena had obvious difficulty in making herself understood, and to her very evident embarrassment the old lady noticed this and said, apologetically: “I am so sorry, your Majesty, that my hearing inconveniences you.” “Oh,” said the Queen, “I did not know that you were deaf. Come, sit here on the sofa by me.” This, surely, was worthy of a Queen.
That Queen Elena positively dislikes social functions there can be no question. For three successive winters there was practically nothing whatever done to stimulate the social life of the capital on the part of the sovereigns. One year the reason given for the postponing of the court balls and receptions was the Sicilian disaster. Another year it was the death of the King of Portugal. Other courts went into mourning for thirty days. The Italian court cancelled everything in the nature of festivities for the year. This has a very serious economic result. Rome is one of the least commercial capitals of Europe. The social season at best is brief—three to four months—and upon thislittle season many of the shopkeepers have to rely for the bulk of their trade. The tourist trade does not begin to compensate for the loss of the social season. In every other capital in Europe the presence of Royalty at all star occasions throughout the season lends a brilliancy that seems to be lost to Rome for ever—at least during the lives of the present monarchs. The old Roman families do the best they can to bolster up Rome’s fast fleeting prestige, but the Royal Box is nearly always empty. More often than not it looms up in the centre of things like a ghost at the feast. Each year, fewer and fewer foreigners go to Rome for the season, and this is laid directly to the door of the sovereigns. It must be borne in mind that this sort of thing means very much more in Europe than it does in America. There is no city in the United States that could possibly be affected in this way, but since it is of so much importance in Italy it must be mentioned here. This is one of the prime grievances of the people of Rome against the King and Queen. If Queen Elena were the wife of a country minister in our country, she would be beloved by all who knew her. Her domestic virtues, her simplicity of taste and manners, her fondness for children would all be extolled. It would then be no drawback that her vision was not extended, her horizon so narrow. She would be a splendid woman to organise Dorcas societies, to teach the Infant class in the Sunday School, and even to get up Thursday night socials. Alas! however,she is a sovereign, and of a sovereign so much more is not merely expected but demanded. The way Queen Elena has shirked her daily chores—court functions, audiences and interest in national activities—during the last few years is a matter of national comment. “She promised so much, she has achieved so little!” one hears on every hand.
The Elena of to-day does not seem the same Elena who came from Montenegro. The reason for her change of character is beyond my ken. But these are facts. As a Queen, Elena comes close to the line of failure. Each time she steps into the blaze of popular admiration the sentiment toward her seems to change, but I notice that like the fickle waves of the sea, this quickly recedes.
Queen Elena has always been given to hobbies, and as her children take to one hobby or another their regal mother shares their enthusiasm and interest. The King, too, has one hobby that he has indulged in since boyhood and that is the collecting of coins. This fad he took up when he was a very small boy. According to his own statement it was in the year 1879 that one rare coin fell into his hands and he determined to make a “collection.” To-day his collection is reputed the largest and finest in Italy. With him, the collecting of the coins is but part of the hobby. Around each set of ancient and obsolete coins he has grouped a summary of historical facts so that his collection, if studied carefully would constitute an education in itself. I have been told that theKing has nearly sixty thousand different coins! A friend writing to Senator Morandi who is intimately familiar with the life of the King, asked how Victor Emmanuel had time to make collections of this sort. To which the Senator replied: “In the midst of all the cares of State, by his indefatigable capacity for work, aided by a rare promptitude of perception and by a prodigious memory, he finds time to follow every scientific and literary movement, and to attend to this collection.” As a matter of fact, this is the King’s one hobby. The Queen, on the other hand, still indulges several. In the Quirinal Palace in Rome she maintains a studio where she spends many an afternoon working over her sketches and water colours. Her interest in the coin collection is rather recent, and at bottom only nominal. It is my impression that this interest on her part is primarily for the sake of her children who will one day own this interesting and valuable collection. The King once related to Senator Morandi, in a personal letter, the origin of this collection. “I got my chance,” he said, “a soldo (one cent) of Pius IX and I kept it. Afterwards I got another which I put with the first. Presently I secured fifteen different coins of different kinds. Then my father gave me about seventy different copper coins. These formed the nucleus of my collection.” For several years Prince Victor Emmanuel pestered every one he knew to give him old coins, especially at Christmas and on other gift days. Before longhe had a collection of three thousand pieces. And now it has attained the proportions of twenty times that number. Recently the King testified that this collection has been “an efficacious aid to him in his study of history and geography. Besides which, when I have time I always find something useful and pleasing to do, either arranging my coins or searching in books for dates for this purpose!” Many an American and English boy and girl has a collection of coins and this testimony of King Victor Emmanuel may be an incentive to them to continue this hobby, and to make the most of it by following the scientific example of the King in carefully and accurately preserving the full data concerning each coin.
Queen Elena is still a young woman. If the time ever comes when she determines to throw as much energy and enthusiasm into the everyday work of Queenship as she does on the special occasions of crisis she may yet make her mark upon Italy. So far she has not done this. In these chapters I have tried to portray Queen Elena as she is—a real live woman who enjoyed a romantic youth; who made a brilliant marriage; who is a devoted wife and mother; a mediocre Queen. I have written without malice and without prejudice. My task is done if my readers can now visualise Queen Elena—can picture her in her mountain home, a daring, untrammeled girl; can see her as she is to-day, active in her domestic tasks, lunching and dining and driving with the King, bathingthe babies and watching over their early slumbers. For to-day Elena is wife and mother above all else—and Queen incidentally as well as accidentally. It is my impression that the Queen business bores her utterly; else she would not do it so badly.
THE END