Another Albert and Elisabeth of Belgium

The Infanta Isabel Clara Eugenia

Here are some articles on the life of Isabel Clara Eugenia, the daughter of Philip II of Spain who became the ruler of the Spanish Netherlands.  With her husband, Archduke Albert of Austria, she consolidated the victory of the Counter-Reformation in the future Kingdom of Belgium.  Hundreds of years later, Isabel became an inspiration to her namesake, Elisabeth of Bavaria, Queen of the Belgians, the consort of King Albert I. 

In March of 1588, the ministers of Henry III of France, his contemporary, announced that King Philip was "mad": "The grand chancellor assured his awed dinner guests in Paris that while Philip's councillors debated state affairs, his eldest daughter, Isabel, was signing documents and in control of government." 

This "scandalous" announcement derived from reports made by Philip's ambassador in Paris, who had told the French king's mother, Catherine de' Medici, about the significance of Isabel's role in her father's government. Rumors were also spreading in Spain that, if Philip were "incapacitated," it would be Isabel who would "take control of the government" of her father's kingdom, and not her half-brother Philip III.

Her potential to function for her father as a "regent" had been noted as early as 1574, when an eight-year-old Isabel was suggested as regent of the Netherlands. She obviously would have been a figurehead then, but from an early age she had been extremely close to her father, who had played a "direct role" in raising her and her sister Catherine Michelle. 

Isabel, in particular, had emulated her father, and he had allowed her "to take part in his office work." By 1586, she was able to be a significant help and adviser to her father; she "read him the letters and despatches he had to deal with, adding her suggestions on how they should be answered." He "even gave her access to the most important papers of state."(Read more)

Here is an article on Isabel, the Counter-Reformation, and Rubens' series of tapestries on the Triumph of the Eucharist.

The portrait, which is today known only through copies and prints, has neither accompanying drapery, nor architecture, nor even any accessory, except for the rosary that hangs from her simple rope belt, thereby emphasizing her piety and spiritual authority. Rubens enhanced this concept by lightening the area around Isabel’s head as if she were radiating a divine glow. Barbara Welzel has noted that this halolike aura conveys Isabel’s majesty and plays with her second name, Clara, which in Spanish can mean light, thus visualizing a connection between the infanta and her moniker. An engraving after the painting with an inscription by Jan Gaspar Gevartius provides deeper specificity of meaning: (fig. 13)

of the imperial dynasty and daughter of Philip II, is praised as the jewel of Spain and the salvation of Belgium. She is the prudence of just war, the honor of chaste peace, and the love of religion. She was crowned with the oak wreath after capturing Breda, bringing the longed-for peace to Belgium, the peace it had sought in the rays of the shining Isabella.

The text unmistakably credits the infanta for the victory at Breda by calling her the “jewel of Spain and the salvation of Belgium” and the one responsible for capturing the town. That the peace was also sought in her shining rays of light further links the victory to her spirituality and heavenly empowerment. The centrality of this sentiment surfaces in the divine eye of Providence that Rubens illustrated at the top of the portrait print, above the inscription “providentia augusta ut serves vincis” (You conquer because you serve sublime Providence). The symbol of God’s guidance and intervention, the eye presides over two supple putti who crown the infanta with “the oak wreath after capturing Breda,” a wreath, which, in Roman tradition, was awarded to those who had liberated their fellow man from a subjection imposed by the enemy. The wreath, thus, came to symbolically identify the person thus crowned as a savior. This image reinforces the notion that God watches over Isabel, and, through the spiritual authority he invested in her, helped her combat his enemies at Breda to secure the victory and bring “the longed-for peace to Belgium.” (Read more)

Isabel with her husband, Albert

 

Engagement of the future King Albert I and Queen Elisabeth of the Belgians

Maria de Villegas, Countess van den Steen de Jehay

Via RTBF, Florence de Moreau de Villegas de Saint Pierre, chatelaine of Louvignies, gives several brief presentations on the life and work of her aunt, Maria de Villegas, Countess van den Steen de Jehay, a close friend and confidante of Queen Elisabeth of Belgium. The presentations are all in French, but can be roughly followed in other languages through the automatically translated subtitles. For anyone wondering about the origin of the family name, the De Villegas are Belgian nobility of Spanish ancestry. 

Maria was an intellectual and literary figure, and a heroine of World War I. She worked devotedly with Queen Elisabeth in nursing wounded soldiers of all nationalities, and in providing relief and comfort for Belgian civilian war victims. The programs feature her letters, diaries, glimpses of her wardrobe and a tour of Louvignies itself. One particularly touching excerpt from her writing, noted in the clip above, is as follows. After the death of King Albert I, the Countess wrote to Queen Elisabeth to express her condolences: "I weep with you, Madame, for the admirable man you weep for. I weep for your happiness. I loved you so much when you were happy.  Let me love you even more when you are unhappy." 

More on Elisabeth's war work and her friendship with the Countess can be read HERE. Florence de Moreau's book on Maria de Villegas is available HERE. 

Works of Mercy

Here is a description of Queen Elisabeth's charitable works during World War I:

It is difficult for anyone who had even the slightest experience of the field hospitals in the early days of the War to think or write calmly of the scenes they witnessed. Yet the Queen, who was not of robust physique and has that sympathetic temperament which makes it difficult to witness suffering, shrank from nothing. There was hardly a field hospital in the whole of Belgium that she did not visit at some time or other during the War.

She not only visited them, but took part in the actual nursing, often assisting in the dressings and in the work of the wards. Her Majesty did a great deal of her nursing under Doctor Depage, who had helped her in her training. Her previous experience, when assisting her father, Duke Charles Theodor, stood her in good stead. From her girlhood she had been used to sick beds and the consolation of suffering, so now she passed through ward after ward, bringing cheer and comfort in her train.

As the field hospitals travelled from place to place where they were most needed, the Queen did her utmost, and inspired others to do their utmost, too, to find suitable buildings in which they could carry on their magnificent work. She was intensely anxious that there should be full equipment for both the wounded and the staff. Often bedding was impossible to procure in sufficient quantity, and the wounded slept on straw. Her Majesty organized house-to-house collections for bedding, and, when the hospital was at Furnes, she gave twenty beds with spring mattresses for the use of the most serious cases.

Once when it had proved exceptionally difficult to get supplies, the Queen, attended by only one lady-in-waiting, went from house to house to see what could be obtained. The inhabitants of the place were for the most part more than willing to give, but the exigencies of war had left them with little. Few recognized the slender, gentle-voiced lady, who pleaded for the wounded soldiers, as their Queen. One good woman, who had given all but the bed on which she herself slept, was so overcome when she learned of her visitor's identity, that she hurried after her up the street, dragging her one mattress behind her as a final offering !

The Queen visited the hospital at Furnes twice regularly every week, and her visits were made without ceremony of any kind. She was never accompanied by more than one lady and, as a rule, by a Belgian medical officer. Her interest in the patients was felt and appreciated by everyone in the hospital.

Her thorough knowledge of surgery and medicine made her able to understand and appreciate the methods of nursing, and she never failed to pay due tribute to the staff for their efforts and for the extraordinary ingenuity with which they carried out serious operations with wholly inadequate materials.

In one hospital in four days there were admitted nearly four hundred patients, many of them with wounds necessitating grave operations, yet all the surgeons had to work with were two scalpels, a finger saw, and a few forceps !

From bed to bed the Queen would pass, a slight figure always plainly clad, usually in black, with a word for each of the men who had suffered in her country's cause. To each she spoke — to Belgians, French, and Germans (for there were usually a few Germans brought in with the rest), as Her Majesty made no distinction. They were suffering ; they had made the supreme sacrifice for what each believed to be the right, and in that place of pain at least there was no room for bitterness.

In the early days of the War, the Queen expressed a hope that Belgian women who could write both English and German would force themselves to forget their wrongs, and, for the sake of humanity, attend hospitals to write letters for prisoners other than Belgians. She realized how the anxiety of many a soldier's home would be alleviated if news, however slight, reached their homes. In the Queen's mind, as in the minds of her noble fellow- workers in the cause of the Red Cross, a wounded man had no nationality ; he suffered, and that was enough to evoke all that was humanly possible to ease his pain, both mental and physical.

Sometimes the King accompanied the Queen on her visits of mercy — always in his soldier's uniform without decorations of any kind. Together they would go round the hospitals, not so much as a King and Queen visiting their subjects, but as a kindly, simple man and woman, eager to do what they could for their fellow-creatures. Her Majesty was deeply interested in the visits which Madame Curie, the world-famed scientist, paid to the hospital at Furnes, where she stayed to work for a week, bringing her X-ray equipment for the use of the hospital. To aid Madame Curie in her much-valued labours on behalf of the wounded, there was fitted up for her a radiographic department with the aid of thick curtains and much brown paper. Here this remarkable woman worked with untiring zeal, taking radiographs of innumerable cases. Her daughter was assiduous in helping to develop the plates, and thus enabled Madame Curie to achieve work of the utmost value.

At a later stage in the War, the Queen took a deep interest in the marvels of plastic surgery, which enabled so many poor fellows to take up their work in the world after leaving the hospital. At one hospital some very severe facial cases were being treated, and the head surgeon, anxious to spare the Queen some terrible sights, begged her not to visit that particular ward. Her Majesty was not, however, to be deterred by the awful disfigurements. "They suffered for their country," she remarked, "and the Queen of that country should be the last to shrink from them." She spoke to each man in turn, pressing his hand in kindly sympathy before she turned away.

Passing month by month from hospital to hospital. Her Majesty constantly encountered those pitiful screams of homeless refugees who, with houses shelled and villages laid waste, straggled to the frontier. They would be met carrying their few poor possessions on their backs, or pushing wearily their hand-carts before them. Little children, hardly old enough to realize the horror which had befallen them, might be seen pushing perambulators filled to overflowing with what could be gathered up of the few remaining household possessions. Old men staggering under sack-loads of clothing and bedding and women burdened with the strangest assortment of miscellaneous goods, were fleeing from misery into darkness. The Queen saw them all, and with tears in her eyes would stop to speak to them as they passed. They could not tell her where they were going, for to half of them their destination was unknown. They only knew that their homes had been destroyed by the enemy and that now they must seek an unknown country and an unknown future.

These processions distressed the Queen even more than the scenes at the hospital, for there at least all that was possible was being done. For these poor refugees there was nothing Her Majesty could do except to give a child a caress or slip some silver coins into a woman's hand. Her Majesty sought no recognition and, in her war work, was content to be taken for an ordinary member of the Red Cross. But to the refugees she would sometimes reveal her identity if she thought that by so doing she could give some slight comfort or even shadow of encouragement to the poor creatures."I will think of you, I will pray for you daily," she would tell them, as they trudged on their desolate road. 

A Talk with Queen Mary

Since I have featured excerpts from Mary Roberts Rinehart's wartime conversations with Albert and Elisabeth of Belgium, it may be interesting to see the American author's account of her meeting with Mary of Teck, from  Kings, Queens and Pawns.

It will be a surprise to many Americans to learn that the Queen of England is very lovely to look at. So much emphasis has always been placed on her virtues, and so little has been written of her charm, that this tribute is only fair to Her Majesty. She is tall, perhaps five feet eight inches, with deep-blue eyes and beautiful colouring. She has a rather wide, humorous mouth. There is not a trace of austerity in her face or in any single feature. The whole impression was of sincerity and kindliness, with more than a trace of humour.

I could quite believe, after I saw Her Majesty, the delightful story that I had heard from a member of her own circle, that now and then, when during some court solemnity an absurdity occurred, it was positively dangerous to catch the Queen's eye!

Queen Mary came up the long room. As she paused and held out her hand, each lady took it and curtsied at the same time. The Queen talked, smiling as she spoke. There was no formality. Near at hand the lady-in-waiting who was in attendance stood, sometimes listening, sometimes joining in the conversation. The talk was all of supplies, for these days in England one thinks in terms of war. Certain things had come in; other things had gone or were going. For the Queen of England is to-day at the head of a great business, one that in a few months has already collected and distributed over a million garments, all new, all practical, all of excellent quality.

The Queen came toward me and paused. There was an agonised moment while the lady-in-waiting presented me. Her Majesty held out her hand. I took it and bowed. The next instant she was speaking. 

She spoke at once of America, of what had already been done by Americans for the Belgians both in England and in their desolated country. And she hastened to add her gratitude for the support they have given her Guild.

"The response has been more than generous," said Her Majesty. "We are very grateful. We are glad to find that the sympathy of America is with us."

She expressed a desire also to have America know fully just what was being done with the supplies that are being constantly sent over, both from Canada and from the United States.

"Canada has been wonderful," she said. "They are doing everything."

The ready response of Canada to the demand for both troops and supplies appeared to have touched Her Majesty. She spoke at length about the troops, the distance they had come, the fine appearance the men made, and their popularity with the crowds when they paraded on the streets of London. I had already noticed this. A Canadian regiment was sure to elicit cheers at any time, although London, generally speaking, has ceased any but silent demonstration over the soldiers.

"Have you seen any of the English hospitals on the Continent?" the Queen asked.

"I have seen a number, Your Majesty."

"Do they seem well supplied?"

I replied that they appeared to be thoroughly equipped, but that the amount of supplies required was terrifying and that at one time some of the hospitals had experienced difficulty in securing what they needed.

"One hospital in Calais," I said, "received twelve thousand pairs of bed socks in one week last autumn, and could not get a bandage."

"Those things happened early in the war. We are doing much better now. England had not expected war. We were totally unprepared."

..."What is your impression of the French and Belgian hospitals?" Her Majesty inquired.

I replied that none were so good as the English, that France had always depended on her nuns in such emergencies, and, there being no nuns in France now, her hospital situation was still not good.

"The priests of Belgium are doing wonderful work," I said. "They have suffered terribly during the war."

"It is very terrible," said Her Majesty. "Both priests and nuns have suffered, as England has reason to know."

The Queen spoke of the ladies connected with the Guild.

"They are really much overworked," she said. "They are giving all their time day after day. They are splendid. And many of them, of course, are in great anxiety."

Already, by her tact and her simplicity of manner, she had put me at my ease. The greatest people, I have found, have this quality of simplicity. When she spoke of the anxieties of her ladies, I wished that I could have conveyed to her, from so many Americans, their sympathy in her own anxieties, so keen at that time, so unselfishly borne. But the lady-in-waiting was speaking:

"Please tell the Queen about your meeting with King Albert."

So I told about it. It had been unconventional, and the recital amused Her Majesty. It was then that I realised how humorous her mouth was, how very blue and alert her eyes. I told it all to her, the things that insisted on slipping off my lap, and the King's picking them up; the old envelope he gave me on which to make notes of the interview; how I had asked him whether he would let me know when the interview was over, or whether I ought to get up and go! And finally, when we were standing talking before my departure, how I had suddenly remembered that I was not to stand nearer to His Majesty than six feet, and had hastily backed away and explained, to his great amusement.

Queen Mary laughed. Then her face clouded.

"It is all so very tragic," she said. "Have you seen the Queen?"

I replied that the Queen of the Belgians had received me a few days after my conversation with the King.

"She is very sad," said Her Majesty. "It is a terrible thing for her, especially as she is a Bavarian by birth." (Read full account)

A Talk with a Queen

In another chapter of Kings, Queens, and Pawns, Mary Roberts Rinehart brings Queen Elisabeth of Belgium to life. This is how she describes her meeting with the Queen in the royal villa at La Panne:

...The royal villa at La Panne faces the sea. It is at the end of the village and the encroaching dunes have ruined what was meant to be a small lawn. The long grass that grows out of the sand is the only vegetation about it; and outside, half-buried in the dune, is a marble seat. A sentry box or two, and sentries with carbines pacing along the sand; the constant swish of the sea wind through the dead winter grass; the half-buried garden seat- that is what the Queen of the Belgians sees as she looks from the window of her villa.

The villa itself is small and ugly. The furnishing is the furnishing of a summer seaside cottage. The windows fit badly and rattle in the gale. In the long drawing room- really a living room - in which I waited for the Queen, a heavy red curtain had been hung across the lower part of the long French windows that face the sea, to keep out the draft. With that and an open coal fire the room was fairly comfortable.

As I waited I looked about. Rather a long room this, which has seen so many momentous discussions, so much tragedy and real grief. A chaotic room, too, for in addition to its typical villa furnishing ... an ordinary pine table by a side window was littered with papers.

On a centre table were books- H. G. Wells "The War in the Air", two American books written by correspondents who had witnessed the invasion of Belgium, and several newspapers ...

The door opened and the Queen entered without ceremony. I had not seen her before. In her simple blue dress, with its white lawn collar and cuffs, she looked even more girlish than I had anticipated. Like Queen Mary of England, she has suffered from the camera. She is indeed strikingly beautiful, with lovely coloring and hair, and with very direct wide eyes, set far apart. She is small and slender, and moves quickly. She speaks beautiful English, in that softly inflected voice of the Continent which is the envy of all American women. I bowed as she entered, and she shook hands with me at once and asked me to sit down. She sat on the sofa by the fireplace. Like the Queen of England, like King Albert, her first words were of gratitude to America.

It is not my intention to record here anything but the substance of my conversation with Queen Elisabeth of Belgium. Much that was said was the free and unrestricted speech of two women, talking over together a situation that was tragic to them both; for Queen Elisabeth allowed me to forget, as I think she had ceased to remember, her own exalted rank, in her anxiety for her people.

A devoted churchwoman, she grieved over the treatment accorded by the invading German Army to the priests and nuns of Belgium. She referred to her own Bavarian birth, and to the confidence both King Albert and she had always felt in the friendliness of Germany.

"I am a Bavarian," she said. "I have always, from my childhood, heard this talk that Germany must grow, must get to the sea. I thought it was just talk- a pleasantry!"

She had seen many of the diaries of German soldiers, had read them in the very room where we were sitting. She went quite white over the recollection and closed her eyes.

"It is the women and children!" she said. "It is terrible! There must be killing. That is war. But not this other thing."

And later on she said, in reference to German criticism of King Albert's course during the early days of the war:

"Anyone who knows the King knows that he cannot do a wrong thing. It is impossible for him. He cannot go any way but straight."

And Queen Elisabeth was right. Anyone who knows King Albert of Belgium knows that "he cannot go any way but straight."

The conversation shifted to the wounded soldiers and to the Queen's anxiety for them. I spoke of her hospital as being a remarkable one-practically under fire, but moving as smoothly as a great American institution, thousands of miles from danger. She had looked very sad, but at the mention of the Ocean Ambulance her face brightened. She spoke of its equipment, of the difficulty in securing supplies, of the new surgery, which has saved so many limbs from amputation. They were installing new and larger sterilizers, she said.

"Things are in as good condition as can be expected now," she said. "The next problem will come when we get back into our own country. What are the people to do? So many of the towns are gone; so many farms are razed!"

The Queen spoke of Brand Whitlock and praised highly his work in Brussels. From that to the relief work was only a step. I spoke of the interest America was taking in the relief work, and of the desire of so many American women to help.

"We are grateful for anything," she said. "The army seems to be as comfortable as possible under the circumstances, but the people, of course, need everything."

Inevitably the conversation turned again to the treatment of the Belgian people by the Germans, to the unnecessary and brutal murders of noncombatants, to the frightful rapine and pillage of the early months of the war. Her Majesty could not understand the scepticism of America on this point. I suggested that it was difficult to say what any army would do when it found itself in a prostrate and conquered land.

"The Belgian Army would never have behaved so," said Her Majesty. "nor the English, nor the French. Never!"

And the Queen of the Belgians is a German! True, she has suffered much. Perhaps she is embittered, but there was no bitterness in her voice that afternoon in the little villa at La Panne - only sadness and great sorrow, and, with it, deep conviction. What Queen Elisabeth of Belgium says, she believes, and who should know better? There, to that house on the sea front, in the fragment of Belgium that remains, go all the hideous details that are war. She knows them all. King Albert is not a figure-head, he is the actual fighting head of his army. The murder of Belgium has been done before his very eyes...

Portrait of Empress Elisabeth

A floral portrait of Sisi. (Via History's Untold Treasures).

Miniature of Queen Elisabeth

Here is a striking miniature of Queen Elisabeth of the Belgians.  With her dramatic red and gold dress, she almost reminds me of the Firebird.

Néné

A portrait of Duchess Helene in Bavaria, one of the aunts of Queen Elisabeth of the Belgians.  Helene, affectionately known as Néné, was the older, steadier sister of Empress Elisabeth of Austria, the legendary Sisi, and the first to be considered as a possible bride for Sisi's future husband, the Emperor Franz Joseph.

The Palace in Wartime

Brand Whitlock gives a moving account of the early days of World War I in Brussels.  Here is a description of an audience with Queen Elisabeth and one of her ladies in the royal palace, transformed into a hospital for the wounded.  

We had to wait,  and talked for a long time-- about the war, of course, the Countess was very much moved, her eyes filling with tears every few minutes.  But after a while, accompanied by the good Doctor le Boeuf who had done so much for the Red Cross, we were conducted down the long red-carpeted corridor to the Queen's private apartments, and shown into the little blue drawing room.  And presently the Queen entered.  She wore a simple blue gown with transparent sleeves, and a white, low, girlish collar; not a jewel, only her wedding-ring on her hand, and her hair dressed in delicate simplicity.  She was calm, with a certain gravity, and her blue eyes were wistful in the little smile that hovered about her lips.  There was no ceremony in this rather unusual presentation. 

We were walking down the long state apartments, with their glittering chandeliers, all vastly different than from their aspect when last I had seen them, thronged with men in brilliant uniforms at a court ball.  They were filled that day with with long lines of hospital cots, the white coverlets already drawn back--waiting for the wounded.  At the foot of each cot a little Belgian flag was fastened.  

"The children put them here," said the Queen. 

Up and down through those long apartments we passed in that model hospital into which, all within eight days, the Queen had transformed her palace.  Gone the old stateliness and luxury; nothing now but those white cots, operating rooms, tables with glass tops, white porcelain utensils, even X-ray apparatus--with all their sinister implication.  Now and then a nurse would appear, dropping a curtsey as the Queen passed.  (Everybody's Magazine, Vol. 38, March 1918, p. 17)

What Do You Think of This?

This book is two years old, but I only heard of it today.  La reine Astrid n'est pas morte à Küssnacht ("Queen Astrid Did Not Die At Küssnacht") is a novel of alternate history authored by Belgian aristocrat and politician, Stéphane de Lobkowicz.  As the title indicates, the point of departure is that the iconic fourth Queen of the Belgians survives the fatal car accident on August 29, 1935.  Rather than losing her life, she loses her husband, King Leopold III. Playing on the rumor that Astrid was pregnant at the time of the crash, the author even imagines that she bears Leopold a posthumous fourth child. Otherwise, Astrid disappears into the background of the story.  

The foreground is taken by her mother-in-law, cultured, energetic Queen Elisabeth, who becomes Regent for the little heir to the throne, Prince Baudouin.  It falls to the German-born Elisabeth to face off against Hitler.  The Belgian campaign lasts for 22 days instead of the historical 18.  The beautiful city of Bruges is burned to the ground. Elisabeth barely escapes with her life to England and continues the struggle from abroad, while a defiant Belgium is placed under the ruthless rule of Reinhard Heydrich, engineer of the Holocaust.  (In reality, Belgium benefited from having Alexander von Falkenhausen, a military governor who made efforts to moderate the treatment of the population).  In the post-war period, Belgium is spared the Royal Question, which erupts in the Netherlands instead! Queen Wilhelmina is blamed for her departure to London, rather than King Leopold being traduced for remaining in Belgium during the occupation.

Lobkowicz also manages to weave in characters such as Leopold's brother, Prince Charles, who actually served as Regent of Belgium from 1944-1950, Leopold's second wife, Lilian Baels, and Baudouin's Queen Fabiola.  Charles is given a romantic interlude with a Congolese woman of mixed racial ancestry, whom he later marries.  Lilian never marries Leopold, of course, but becomes his children's governess.  In reality, she never served in this role, despite persistent myths and rumors to the contrary.   While a refugee in Spain, sheltered with Fabiola's family, Baudouin meets his future bride, two years his senior. 

While I am not particularly attracted to reading this book, and something about the whole tone of the story even strikes me as unpleasant, La reine Astrid n'est pas morte à Kussnacht is certainly inventive. It is always interesting to consider alternate historical scenarios, so please feel free to suggest any others in the comments. 

Sisi in Rubies

From Elena Maria Vidal comes this image of Queen Elisabeth's stunning aunt and namesake, wearing jewels which had formerly belonged to Marie-Antoinette. 

King and Queen

A war postcard showing Albert and Elisabeth, the Soldier-King and the Nurse-Queen, as protectors of their land and people.

Four Generations of the Belgian Royal Family

A dynastic portrait showing young, intense Princess Elisabeth of Belgium, the future Nurse-Queen of the Great War, with her sons, Prince Leopold, future Leopold III, and Prince Charles, the future Regent. Behind Elisabeth, from left to right, are her in-laws and patriarchs of the Belgian royal family, Leopold I, Leopold II, and her own husband, Prince Albert, future Albert I. The portrait commemorates the 75th anniversary of Belgian independence in 1905, and suggests that the new kingdom is entering the new century with confidence, pride and high hopes for the future. 

Of course, not all the figures appearing in the picture actually met in real life. Leopold I, the founder of the Belgian branch of the Saxe-Coburgs, died in 1865, ten years before Albert's birth and eleven years before Elisabeth's. Leopold II only overlapped briefly with his great-nephews, Leopold and Charles. In L'éducation d'un prince (1984), a collection of interviews with Leopold III, he describes only a few childhood memories of meeting the very controversial Leopold II, on holiday at the seaside in Ostende. The sensitive, rather fragile-looking little boy had a recollection of his stern, bearded great-uncle pinching him on the cheeks and telling him to eat heartily and get strong! Leopold III also remembered that his parents never spoke of the scandals in their uncle's personal life that gave rise to so much gossip in Belgium and beyond. 

A Charming Vignette

A letter from Albert Einstein to his wife Elsa from 1931 describes the charming hospitality and informality of King Albert and Queen Elisabeth among their friends.

I was received with touching warmth. These two people are of a purity and kindness seldom found. First we talked for about an hour. Then [the Queen and I] played quartets and trios [with an English lady musician and a musical lady-in-waiting]. This went on merrily for several hours. Then they all went away and I stayed alone for dinner at the King's- vegetarian style, no servants. Spinach and fried eggs and potatoes, period. (It had not been anticipated that I would stay). I liked it very much there, and I am certain the feeling is mutual. (Albert Einstein: The Human Side, 1989, p. 47)

Memory Lane

Since we are approaching the end of the year, and the fourth anniversary of The Cross of Laeken, I thought it might be fun to revisit some of my favorite posts from the past. (I was inspired to do so by Gio's recent post along the same lines).  Here are a few, in no particular order:

Lilian Baels and Jacqueline Kennedy: I include this one because it is a VERY popular article, apparently my second most popular article of all time. I suspect this is more because of Jackie's fame than Lilian's, but in any case, I do not mind the extra hits!

Princess Lilian: Loved and Loving: A post examining the stereotypes of Lilian Baels as cold and hard and attempting to demonstrate that she was much warmer, kinder and more loving than many realize.

The Conversion of Queen Astrid: An article about Astrid's spiritual journey from the Lutheranism of her childhood and family to the Catholicism of her husband and adopted country.

Queen of Children: A contemporary testimonial of Queen Elisabeth's touching dedication to the youngest Belgian victims of World War I.

A Queen to be Remembered: A profile of the first Queen of the Belgians, Louise-Marie of Orléans, who is often overshadowed by her later, more famous counterparts, such as Elisabeth and Astrid.

Marie d'Orléans: The favorite sister of Queen Louise-Marie, a spirited and artistic soul who sadly passed away from tuberculosis at age 25.

Albert I and the Sacred Heart: A remarkable account of Albert's meeting with Father Mateo Crawley-Boevey, a famous preacher of devotion and reparation to the Sacred Heart of Jesus, during the priest's visit to Belgium in 1922.

The Perfume of Violets: Princess Marie-José's mysterious encounter with Padre Pio, the saintly Italian mystic.

Umberto and Maria José: Some thoughts on the lights and shadows of their marriage.

A Talk with a King: American war reporter Mary Roberts Rinehart's account of her audience with Albert I during the German occupation of Belgium. Albert expressed his anguish over the violation of Belgian neutrality and the cruel treatment of his people.

A Talk with a Queen: Mary Roberts Rinehart's meeting with Queen Elisabeth.

Armistice Day

I want to take a moment to commemorate all those who suffered and died during World War I. I especially want to remember the brave people of Belgium and their valiant King and Queen, truly innocent bystanders who were dragged into the slaughter against their will. The end of the war was a source of great joy for Albert and Elisabeth and their children, signaling the return of peace and freedom for their beloved country. It was, however, also a time tinged with sadness, as they were forced to witness the destruction of many of their fellow Christian monarchs. Meanwhile, the peace terms would leave the future unsettled and menacing for their own people.

Queen of Flowers

I do not quite understand the symbolism here, but this is a touching postcard of Elisabeth of Belgium.

Medal of Albert and Elisabeth

A beautiful one commemorating U.S. relief to Belgium in World War I. The profiles of the King and Queen are especially fine.

Elisabeth of Hungary

Sisi's coronation in Budapest.

So great was the enthusiasm aroused by the appearance of the Empress-Queen, that it is scarcely wonderful if her whole heart went out anew to a people who, by the warmth of their reception, the many tokens of admiration and love bestowed upon her, presented so vivid a contrast to the manner in which the Teutonic portion of her husband’s subjects had comported themselves towards her when the imperial crown had been placed upon her brow, almost thirteen years before. Her predilection for Hungary from henceforth became more than ever marked. She learned the terribly difficult Magyar language with her usual facility, devoting herself with such energy to this task that she absolutely amazed her instructors, and most of her time was spent in her marvelous Castle of Gödöllö, near Budapest. (Read entire post)

Mourning

Queen Elisabeth of Belgium as a widow.