October 29 is not just any ordinary day in the heart calendar of the Romanians who love the land where they took their first breath of air. It is the day we celebrate the 150th anniversary of Queen Marie of Romania’s birth.
There are countless reasons why Queen Marie remains so deeply loved and remembered. She arrived in a small, faraway country at only seventeen, to marry Ferdinand I, Crown Prince of Romania. When her feet first touched Romanian soil, she was a young and hopeful romantic young lady—naive, yet guided by the noble spirit of duty she had inherited from the British royal tradition.
Gifted with a keen mind, a radiant artistic spirit, and a natural grace in diplomacy, she stood as a bridge between worlds. Born into the rarefied realm of European royalty—the 23rd granddaughter of Queen Victoria of England and the first cousin of Tsar Nicholas of Russia—she carried with her a noble heritage. But life, with all its trials and triumphs, shaped her. Through courage, compassion, and an unshakable devotion to her new homeland, that gentle young bride blossomed into the majestic, influential, and profoundly beloved Queen of Romania.
Queen Marie of Romania (1875-1938) was the force that confronted Europeans leaders and did not lose faith when the dream of a Great Romania seemed impossible. She had a deep and genuine love for traditional Romanian folk costume, often wearing the Romanian blouse (“ie”) in public or integrating local costume pieces into her royal identity. On how she did this, you can read in The Suman – A Romanian Folk Coat Fit for a Queen.
Queen Marie of Romania
In the collective memory of our nation, Queen Marie of Romania remains one of the most enduring icon of true leadership, sovereignty and patriotism.
Trust me when I say that it is not without reason why she was called Empress of all Romanians, Soldier Queen, Mother of All, Mother of the Wounded. She won these title for all she did for her adopting country.
For those who have heard the quiet call of words and learned to read not only what is written, but what is felt, there is a sacred truth: when a heart speaks through ink, its sincerity lingers beyond time. Every line becomes a whisper of the soul that wrote it. So it is with Queen Marie’s will—her tender, solemn message to the Romanian people. Her words still carry the grace of her spirit, the courage of her love, and the gentleness of her farewell. On this day, the 150th anniversary of her birth, I feel compelled to share her testament once more—so that her voice may be heard again, and her heart may continue to speak to ours.
The Will
To my country and to my people
When you read these letters, My People, I will have crossed the threshold of eternal Silence, which remains a great mystery for us. And yet, out of the great love that I bore you, I would like my voice to reach you once again, even beyond the silence of the grave.
I had barely turned 17 when I came to you; I was young and ignorant, but very proud of my native country, and I embraced a new nationality, I strove to become a good Romanian. At first it was not easy. I was a foreigner, in a foreign country, alone among foreigners. But too few are those who recall themselves to reflect on how difficult the path that a foreign Princess must travel in order to become one with the new country to which she has been called. I have become yours through joy and sorrow. Looking back, it’s hard to say which was greater: joy or pain? – I think the joy was greater, but the pain was longer.
No one is judged justly while he lives: only after death is he remembered or forgotten. Perhaps you will remember me because I loved you with all the strength of my heart and my love was strong, full of momentum: later it became patient, very patient.
It has been given to me to live with you, my people, times of hardship and times of great fulfillment. For a time I was given to be your guide, to be your inspiration, to be the one who kept the flame alive, the one who became the center of stubbornness in the darkest days.
I can tell you this today because I am no longer alive. In those days you gave me a name that was dear to me; You have called me “The Mother of All” and I would like to remain in your memory those who could always be found in moments of pain or danger. There came a time later when you denied me, but that is the fate of mothers, I received it, and I loved you further, although I could not help you as much as in the days when you believed in me. But this is forgotten.
I have been in your midst so long that it seems to me scarcely possible that I must leave you; However, every man reaches the end of his journey.
I have reached the end of my road. But before I am silent for eternity, I want to raise my hands for the last time for a blessing.
I bless you, beloved Romania, the land of my joys and sorrows, beautiful country, which you have lived in my heart and whose paths I have known all. A beautiful country that I have seen whole, whose fate I have been allowed to see fulfilled. Be eternally abundant, be great and honorable, stand forever towering among nations, be honored, loved, and skilled.
I have faith that I understood you: I did not judge, I loved…
I never liked shapes and formulas, I sometimes didn’t really pay attention to the words I spoke. I loved the truth and dreamed of living in the sunlight, but everyone lives as they can, not as they would like. But when you remember me, my people, think of me as one who loved life and beauty, who was too honest to be considerate, too merciful to be victorious, too loving to judge.
I have no wealth to leave you, what you have so generously given me I have spent among you: I have embellished those places where I have been given to live. If all the beautiful things remind you of me, then
I will be fully rewarded by the love I have given you, because beauty has been a creed for me.
I have reawakened to a new life the little abandoned castle of Bran, but Tenha-Juva (Balchik) was the place that was made, there I was given to make the dream come true, and because this meant more to me than I could ever interpret, I asked my son King Carol II that my heart be brought and placed at Stella Maris, the church that I built on the seashore.
With my body I will rest at Curtea de Arges next to my beloved husband King Ferdinand, but I want my heart to be placed under the slabs of the church I built. In the course of a long life, so many have come to my heart that even dead, I wish I could come to it again along the lily path that was my pride and joy. I want to rest there in the midst of the beauties I have made, in the midst of the flowers I have planted. And since that’s where my heart is, I don’t want it to be a place of mourning, but of peace and charm as it was when I was alive. I entrust my children to the hearts of my people, being mortal they may err, but their hearts warm as mine was: beloved and be useful to one another, for so it must be.
And now I bid you farewell forever: from now on I will not be able to send you any sign: but above all, remember me, my people, that I have loved you and that I bless you with my last breath.
Not knowing the time that is assigned to me on earth, I decide by this will my last wills. I bless the country, my children and grandchildren. I ask my children to never forget that trust in God is a guide in happiness and comfort in suffering. I ask them to be united, to support the country and to support each other. I also ask them to submit without discord to my last wishes.
My Motherly love for them is the same, and if I have the part available only in favor of one of them, it is only because he is more deprived of the necessities of life. (…)
I would have liked to be able to leave more to my beloved country as a sign of the unceasing love that I have borne for her and that I leave an inexhaustible source to my heirs.
My fervent desire would have been to build a small church on the former front in Onești and to set up a dormitory with my name for the students of the University of Iasi, as a memory of the difficult days spent there during the great war for the unification of the nation.
I feel a deep sadness that my modest fortune, due to the generosity of my beloved husband King Ferdinand, and still reduced by the difficulties of recent times, does not allow me to do the good I would like.
I forgive those who made me suffer. I ask those whom I would have involuntarily wronged to forgive me because I did not want to harm anyone. (…)
This will was written, dated and signed by my hand at Tenka – Juvah, Balchik, today, Thursday, June 29, 1933.
Maria, Queen of Romania
On this, the 150th anniversary of Queen Marie of Romania’s birth, there is no doubt that her place in our nation’s history is eternal. It was earned not through power or title, but through the boundless love she gave to her country and its people; through the dream of a Great Romania that she helped bring to life; through the unwavering duty she carried as a Romanian—faithfully, devotedly—until her very last breath.
