Part 12

The Emperor Alexander of Russia had arrived on a visit to the princely pair at Bucharest, on the 25th of June, accompanied by the Grand Dukes, the Chancellor, the Ministers of War, Ignatieff, and other high personages, all coming from Plojest. “It was certainly one of the most interesting days for Roumania,” the Princess writes in a letter, “and I enjoyed it very much in the feeling that I am helping to act a piece of history. The reception of the Emperor was enthusiastic, and we were literally buried under the quantities of roses thrown. From one balcony roses and golden tinsel were scattered together. I have never seen anything more beautiful, and shall not forget the picture.” The Prince writes--“I am proud of Elizabeth, who does the honours charmingly. The Emperor, the Grand Dukes, and all the Russians are charmed with her, and say that she reminds them of the Grand Duchess Hélène.”

This visit of the Emperor, immediately after the declaration of the independence of Roumania, was an event of great importance. By his appearance in Bucharest his Majesty had sanctioned the political position of the country at that time. After the repulse of the first Russian attacks on Plevna, the Roumanian divisions, under the command of the Prince, crossed the Danube and joined the Russian army. As soon as it was settled that Roumania was to take an active part in the war, Princess Elizabeth made all the arrangements required to mitigate the horrors of it.

In thus undertaking the office of a sister of charity, the Princess demonstrated that this was the vocation of every woman at such a time, and her example was cheerfully followed by the Roumanian ladies in the most unselfish and self-sacrificing manner. The vast throne-room had been transformed into a centre of loving service. At the command of the Princess, and with her active help, linen and bandages were prepared. In the halls where the official receptions were usually held, and where hundreds of people danced to the sound of Strauss’ Waltzes, the wheels of the sewing-machines were now in ceaseless motion. Women of all ranks and nationalities went in and out, vieing with each other to supply the troops, now actively engaged with the enemy, with all sorts of necessaries. Many poor peasant women also came to the Princess saying--“Your Highness has supplied us with wood and work for years, and now we will work for a week for the Red Cross without wages.”

The Princess had to accept their services in order not to hurt their feelings. At her own expense the Princess reared a hospital for one hundred beds in the park at Cotroceni, which was to be under her own supervision--“As she wished to nurse her children herself.” The Princess also worked unceasingly in all the other hospitals which she had organised. She awaited and received every train which brought in the wounded from the field of battle, and nursed and tended them unwearyingly, without giving herself a thought. Day and night the Princess was at work, refreshing the weary and comforting and encouraging the sick. She helped to bind up the wounds herself, and did not even recoil from those at sight of which even men could not help shuddering. How many of the dying received the last words of comfort from her lips! Many of them would only take chloroform from her hands, and she alone could persuade many of the wounded to undergo the necessary amputations. The pride of the Roumanian soldier rebelled against going through life like a cripple, without a leg or an arm. “I would rather die than look like a beggar!” exclaimed a young soldier in despair whose leg was to be taken off. But the Princess came to his bedside and besought him to remember that a long life might still lie before him, and to let the operation take place. “For your sake, Regina, it shall be done!” he murmured. Obstacles that none could surmount were overcome by a kind word from the beloved Princess. She exercised a great moral power over the poor sufferers.

“What a satisfaction it must be to your Serene Highness,” wrote a lady of the Court to the Princess of Wied, “to know how our beloved Princess is fulfilling her duty as mother to her country. Your beloved daughter goes from one bedside to another, and has a word of comfort for each and all of the sick and wounded, encouraging the down-hearted and praising and thanking all that had distinguished themselves by their bravery. She has such a wonderful power over them that she wins a smile from all, even those that are suffering acutely or sorrowing over a lost limb.”

And with what enthusiasm the soldiers looked up to their Princess! What an expression of joy shone in the wan features of the sufferers when she came near them! And when they were restored to health, the grateful sons of the soil told of the good Dòamna Elisabeta in their humble homes in the valleys and mountains of the Carpathians. Since that time the people call the Princess “Muma Ranitilor,” the Mother of the Wounded. At this time of danger, when the greatest demands were made upon her powers, the strength of this exalted woman seemed to be doubled. Thus she again displayed her innate administrative talent. Quiet and self-composed when others were passionate and despairing, the Princess never lost her presence of mind, but was able to direct and control even the most perplexing affairs. Being unable to sleep for more than two or three hours, because of her dreadful anxiety as to the fate of the Prince and the army, Princess Elizabeth often made music and wrote poetry half the night for her relaxation. At four in the morning she was often wandering up and down and ordering in her mind her heavy work for the day.

Many battles had been fought, and much blood had been shed on the field. The heroic army of Roumania had borne off new victories when Rahova and Grivitza were taken. Prince Charles undertook the command of a Russo-Roumanian army which was drawn up around Plevna. His troops fought with the courage of lions, notwithstanding the dreadful losses they sustained, and performed prodigies of valour when Prince Charles, shouting “May God help us!” led them wherever the battle was at its fiercest. Plevna had fallen, and Osman Pasha surrendered. On the 10th of December 1877 the Prince of Roumania entered into Plevna amidst the indescribable enthusiasm of his troops. At seven o’clock in the evening he proceeded to Poradim to report to the Emperor on the results of that wonderful day.

The Prince had been brave and courageous as a soldier, but cautious and wary as the commander of an army. As a strategist he had often been in a position to show that he knew how to lead his troops. The people regarded him with the greatest enthusiasm as the champion of their freedom. Immeasurable sacrifices had been bought, and a time of great anxiety had been passed through; but the Roumanians thought of the future, and comforted themselves with what history has so often demonstrated, “that the freedom of a country is only to be dearly bought on fields of battle.” The independence of Roumania had now been acknowledged by all European States. All classes of the people were proudly conscious that their freedom and independence had been bravely won.

The occupation of Widdin had been the crowning act of the Roumanian army. After that had been accomplished they left the fields of Bulgaria, where so many of their comrades had found a grave, and returned to their hearths and homes.

The strength of the Princess had lasted as long as it was so urgently required. But when peace was assured, the misery lessened, and the last occupants of the hospital had left, her Highness broke down completely. Only in strengthening mountain air could she hope to restore her shattered health. So the Court was again removed to the old monastery of the Carpathians in Sinaia.

During her stay there the Princess received a very touching proof of the gratitude of her people.

It was on a Sunday. The excursion train had brought over more than one thousand people to Sinaia, of which the greater number streamed to see the new castle which was building, to the forest and the valley of the Pelesch. Suddenly a woman clothed in black advanced to meet the Princess. She seemed to wish to offer her something which she held in her outstretched hand. Princess Elizabeth, who imagined it was a petition, was going to accept it in the usual way. But with that dignity which distinguishes the Roumanian people the woman stepped back, saying, “Oh, no; I do not want anything. I am the widow of a tradesman, and have no daughter to whom I can leave the family jewellery which we have treasured for many generations. But you are the mother of the poor and the wounded, and have done us so much good. I know of no one worthier than you to wear the precious treasure, and I pray you to accept it, for I would offer it to you.” Upon this she handed a gold bracelet of ancient Roman coins to the Princess. Surprised and deeply touched, the royal lady received this tribute of the love of her people with the warmest thanks--that bracelet is regarded as one of the most treasured ornaments of the Princess, for the love and gratitude of their people is the brightest jewels of their rulers.

After some time the health of the Princess Elizabeth was so far restored that she could risk being present at the fêtes of victory.

The streets of Bucharest were gaily decorated on the 20th of October 1878, for Prince Charles, the hero of the people, was to enter the capital at the head of his victorious army. Garlands of flowers were hung from one house to another. A figure of Victory stood on the high triumphal arch, the so well deserved laurel wreath in her right hand. It was a lovely autumnal day, and from early morning the streets were filled with crowds of people eager to welcome the troops. Bands of music marched at the head of the procession, followed by a detachment of slightly wounded soldiers. Behind them fifty-six cannons rattled on, each bearing the name of the place where it had been captured. And then Prince Charles himself appeared. Who shall describe the shouts and acclamations which greeted him, and who count the wreaths which were thrown at his approach! His look was firm and yet gentle, and on that day he must have realised that his labours had not been in vain. The hearty welcome accorded to him showed more than all the flags and garlands that he had become the idol of his people.

The troops followed their commander who had led them to victory with songs and cheers. Princess Elizabeth appeared in their midst in an open carriage, before which countless flowers were thrown by her grateful people. And what the soldiers sang was a war-song composed by their Princess. It had inspired them in the midst of many battles, and the following translation will give an idea of it:--

THE WATCH BY THE DANUBE.

“Oh! doubt not and fear not, my Fatherland, My sword shall protect thee and shield thee, Though the cannon-roar of the hostile band Should summon thy sons to yield thee. Press onward to battle, for freedom’s our aim, King Carol is with us, he leads us to fame!

The Danube she loves us, she bears us along To the battlefield’s daring and danger, And the billows they murmur, ‘Ye heroes, be strong, And drive out the Mussulman stranger.’ Press onward to battle, for freedom’s our aim, King Carol is with us, he leads us to fame!

Then doubt not, and fear not, my Fatherland, For my strong right arm shall save thee; I’ll first cross my brow, and then, sword in hand, I’ll shatter the chains that enslave thee. Press onward to battle, for freedom’s our aim, King Carol will lead us to vict’ry and fame.”

The 20th of October was a great day for free Roumania. The Princess writes:--“What a year has ended! At first I had sufficient courage to sustain all, and inspired all with my confidence. It was a difficult position for a woman alone, I can assure you. I forgot my anxiety in the amount of work I had to get through. Let us thank God that Charles has returned, for now I can creep back slowly into my nutshell, and return to my flowers, my birds, my books, and my papers. I think it is an anomaly and a misfortune when a woman is induced by circumstances to take part in public life. But there were many bright spots in this difficult time. God will surely help us, and a lasting peace will take away the anxiety which is gnawing at our hearts, and this important time will belong to the future, in which sorrow and suffering is modified, and the great results that are won thereby will be brought out into strong relief. Charles is truly wonderful! I often compare him to William the Silent or to King Charles on his sea voyage. The bitterest experiences only make him colder and calmer. He shrugs his shoulders and forgives every ingratitude. That all misunderstand him in no way disconcerts him. When he is dead they will lament and call him ‘a wise Prince.’”

When the war was over, the wives of all the officers of the Roumanian army presented the “Mother of their Country” with a marble statue. In this the Princess is represented in the costume of a Sister of Charity as she kneels before a wounded soldier, reaching him a refreshing draught. The recollection of what the Princess accomplished during this war, by giving up herself and all her strength to the work, and by her wonderful talent for organisation, will dwell with many feelings of deep gratitude in the hearts of her people, and one generation will tell another of her noble and self-sacrificing deeds.

In 1879 Princess Elizabeth had been in Scheveningen with her mother, and had returned strengthened and refreshed to her country. In the next year (1880) the princely pair went to Segenhaus and Amsterdam together. Many relations also came to visit them at Bucharest and Sinaia, amongst others Prince William of Wied, and Prince Leopold of Hohenzollern, with his two sons, Ferdinand and Charles. In September 1881 the Princess of Hohenzollern (mother of Prince Charles of Roumania) travelled to Roumania for the first time, and was received with great joy by the people. “It is too delightful,” writes the Princess, “to have such an angel of a mother in her. She is always surrounded by an atmosphere of harmony and tenderness which is quite fascinating. The monks in Sinaia, when she arrived there, were very anxious to know which place should be given to her at table, and when they were told ‘the place of honour,’ they joyfully exclaimed--‘That is what King Solomon did when his mother came to him; he seated her on his throne, knelt down before her and kissed her hand. Our King Charles does the same, whom may God bless and preserve to a long life!’ Is this not prettier than many a village tale!” On the 12th of December 1880 the Princess continues--“A very touching scene was enacted lately. The Ministers came to thank us for having settled the question of succession. Bratiano read his speech with tears in his eyes, after which I gave him my hand, and he said--‘Etre brave dans un moment d’enthousiasme c’est beau, mais être brave à froid c’est de l’héroisme!’”

On the 24th of March 1881 Roumania was declared a kingdom by Act of Parliament. Demeter Stourdza, the Minister for Foreign Affairs, wrote to the Princess of Wied--“A happy fate indeed guides Roumania, for the most complicated affairs turn out to be for her good. This so constant shining of our lucky star quite frightens me. A sense of duty, a love of duty, and a strict performance of one’s duty, must keep it bright, and prevent it from fading before us. On the 22nd of May the whole country is to do homage to its sovereign, and a kingly crown, with a battle-axe which has been made out of a cannon taken at Plevna, are to be presented to the Prince, as a symbol of the great events of the war and his newly-acquired position.” Prince Leopold of Hohenzollern had come to Bucharest with his two sons, Ferdinand and Charles, to take part in this festive occasion.

The evening before the day of this ceremonial salvoes of artillery had been fired. Multitudes of people streamed into the town to see the coronation, forming a motley crowd. The two crowns had been taken to the cathedral with much pomp and ceremony. There they were received by the metropolitans, bishops, and minor clergy, who were chanting solemnly, and placed on tables draped with red before the sacred images. At the close of a short service these insignia of royalty were respectfully kissed by the minister and the clergy. They were then covered with the glorious monuments of the siege of Plevna. These were four flags of the Roumanian army which were torn to shreds and decorated with the highest orders of the country. These emblems of royalty remained in the Metropolia all night, whilst a guard of honour kept watch around them.

Early in the morning of the 22nd of May 1881, the little girls from the Asyle Hélène, adorned with flowers, advanced in long rows through the park of Cotroceni and sang a morning hymn before the castle. It seemed a happy omen to the Queen that the first words of love which reached her on this memorable day resounded from her little favourites as she awoke. At eight o’clock in the morning already the houses and tiers of seats erected in the town were filled with people, who crowded every available space on the somewhat long way to the cathedral, and were all anxious to see the sights.

According to the programme the procession to the coronation was to be short. It started at eleven o’clock, and was opened by a regiment of Dorobanzes, whose bands were playing. They formed the Landwehr of Roumania, and were the most popular of the troops, being all tried and experienced men, richly adorned with orders and medals. On their heads they wear the traditional fur cap of the warrior Michel, which is adorned with the feathers of turkeys, herons, and pheasants. These were followed by a company of gendarmes and a squadron of hussars, and then came the standard-bearers of all the colours of the army, with a golden Roman eagle surmounting them. Enthusiastic cheering and the waving of hats and handkerchiefs greeted the King as he appears mounted on his charger and surrounded by his brilliant staff. The energy of a firm character appears in his strongly marked features.

After this came the State carriage of the Queen. It was harnessed à la Daumont, and drawn by eight black horses, their harness adorned with feathers, and ridden by jockeys who wore the colours of the country. A large basket of flowers stood on the box of the carriage, as well as on the seat behind, and on the steps. Four footmen in State liveries marched on each side of the carriage, and in front were two outriders whose horses bore feathers of three colours. The slight form of the Queen, clad in magnificent coronation robes, appeared poetic as that of a fairy in this carriage draped with red and filled to overflowing with flowers. Beside her sat the hereditary Prince of Hohenzollern, and the two young Princes opposite. At sight of her the hundreds of thousands of spectators burst into loud shouts of joy, which were carried on like echoes from balcony to balcony. Branches of fir, the symbols of respect and hospitality, and flowers sparkling with golden powder, were thrown to the Queen from the windows, and white doves adorned with flowers were set free by their owners, and fluttered over the Queen, who was radiant with beauty and grace. Many of these reached their destination, the beautiful carriage, to which they clung like messengers of peace.

All the magnificence and the sumptuous furnishings of this romantic procession was concentrated at the foot of the Metropolitan Hill, from whence the royal pair, followed by their suites, proceeded on foot along the avenue, where a scarlet carpet was laid to the church. The representatives of three thousand country parishes, with their pennons, had arranged themselves in closely packed rows on each side of the carriage. Dressed in their original national costume, these made a brilliant background to the imposing picture. A large stand in the shape of a horse-shoe had been erected in front of the principal entrance to the church, which had long before the arrival of their Majesties been filled with the nobility and gentry of Roumania. In the middle of this stand stood the royal tent, to which a carpeted staircase led.

The royal pair, with the Prince of Hohenzollern, had taken their places. Then the religious ceremony began, and was celebrated with all the pomp of the orthodox Greek Church. During the singing four generals carried the two crowns from the interior of the church to the royal tent, where they were consecrated, and their Majesties received the holy water. The close of this solemn occasion was the signing of the document which Demeter Bratiano laid before their Majesties. Afterwards the deed was signed by Prince Leopold of Hohenzollern, and the Minister Bratiano, who acted as witnesses of the weighty affair of state which had just been concluded. Thundering salvoes of artillery announced that this historic ceremony was concluded. The return of their Majesties was like a triumphal procession. Quantities of flowers were showered upon them, and the waving of handkerchiefs reminded one of a swarm of butterflies, which seemed to follow the procession. Endless rows of carriages containing the guests and the diplomatic corps followed the principal actors in the scene, all returning to the Palace at about three o’clock.

Many groups of peasant women from Plojest and Campulung had stationed themselves amongst the people who crowded into the open space before the grand entrance to the Palace. They are the cream of the district of the Carpathians. On this occasion they insisted on being noticed by the Queen, for it was widely known that her Majesty delighted in the national costume of the country, and the women were proud to show themselves to her in their richest dress, the ornaments of which sparkled in the sun like thousands of little plates of glass.

Half an hour later the immense procession bearing the two crowns to the Palace advanced in almost unending length. The veterans of 1848 and those that had been wounded in the last war marched first, whilst the ten thousand members of the deputations of the peasants formed the rearguard. The doors of the vast throne-room had been opened wide, and sixty standard-bearers, with the flags and banners of the army, were ranged around it. The sounds of the triumphal march were heard from afar, and the crowns, borne by four generals, and accompanied by a solemn procession of the chief officers of State, were placed at the foot of the throne. At half-past two the royal pair appeared, and were solemnly conducted to the throne by the Senate and the Members of Parliament. On their left stood Prince Leopold of Hohenzollern; on their right, his sons. Prince Demeter Ghica addressed their Majesties, and presented the iron crown to the King, whilst Rossetti, the President of the Houses of Parliament, advanced towards the Queen, and kneeling before her, offered her a golden crown, with the following words--“In your Majesty the nation sees itself most gloriously represented.” Then the King began an eloquent speech whilst lifting up the crown and bearing it aloft over his people as though he were blessing them. He spoke of the steady progress of Roumania and of her brave army, and closed with the words--“The love and confidence of the nation, whose happiness and increasing power is my all absorbing thought and that of the Queen, was and ever will be our most precious diadem.” At these words from their King, the vast concourse assembled gave vent to their feelings of love and enthusiasm by an irresistible outburst of shouts of applause.