Chapter XIII: Conclusion 274 (4)

A short time after the visit to Düsseldorf, the Princess of Wied was asked to arrange a personal meeting between her daughter and Prince Charles. To have such a meeting in Monrepos seemed too public, and consequently it suited Her Serene Highness’s view exactly when Princess Elizabeth expressed a great wish to attend a concert which Clara Schumann and Stockhausen were to give at Cologne in October. The Princess of Wied consequently arranged to go to Cologne, and there receive Prince Charles, who was then at Paris. They alighted at the Hotel du Nord. The hours passed, and the Prince had not appeared. So the two ladies drove with their suite to the Botanical Gardens to dine. The meal was over, and Princess Elizabeth had not noticed that they had for some time been closely observed by a group of gentlemen. Two of these then advanced to the Princess of Wied, and the Prince of Roumania was introduced to her. Elizabeth, who knew nothing of his intentions, or of the previous arrangement, reached out both hands to him with undisguised satisfaction, saying: “How glad I am that we should thus meet here by chance.” They remained together many hours in the Botanical and Zoological Gardens, engaged in deep conversation. Returned to the hotel, Princess Elizabeth exclaimed enthusiastically: “What a delightful man the Prince has become!”

Whilst she was dressing for the concert, the Prince had an interview with her mother, and asked for her sanction to the marriage. Princess Elizabeth meanwhile was only thinking of the musical treat which was awaiting her, and was much vexed at the Prince remaining so long. When he at last left, she rushed from her room to the salon, saying in a reproachful tone: “But, mamma.” But the young girl remained transfixed on the doorstep, for she saw the earnest and deeply moved expression of her mother’s countenance, who advanced towards her, embracing her tenderly, and said: “The Prince of Roumania has made you an offer of marriage, my child.”

The surprise of her daughter was great, but after these few words it became clear to her that the Prince had, unconsciously to herself, won her whole heart. When her mother repeated the question, if she did not wish to have time to consider, she answered simply and decidedly: “No; he had better come at once--I know I shall love him much.” And when the Prince came and greeted her as his bride, she said to him with her soft and sympathetic voice: “It makes me both proud and humble at the same time.” The same night the Prince had to return to Paris. But Princess Elizabeth wrote in her Journal of the 12th of October: “I am betrothed and a blissfully happy bride.”

Four days later, on the 16th of October, Prince Charles arrived at Neuwied, accompanied by five Roumanian gentlemen, to celebrate his betrothal publicly. Everything had been so suddenly and unexpectedly settled that none of the many members of the family of Wied could be present on the occasion. The Princess of Wied, Prince William, and some intimate friends of their family, were the only guests, excepting the Roumanian suite.

Simply, and without any particular ceremony, the betrothal was celebrated by an exchange of rings. There was a state dinner in the evening. Towards the close of it, the Princess of Wied arose, and though struggling with repressed emotion, spoke the following words in a clear and firm voice: “Let us drink to the health of the future pair, who are to-day the object of our united best wishes! Every betrothal is certainly a day of rejoicing. But the betrothal of to-day is more. A Prince, called to the accomplishment of a high and arduous mission, has chosen a bride who, whilst remaining faithfully at his side, will take part in the fulfilment of this great duty. They have made a holy covenant between themselves, in which they have promised to devote their strength and love to the happiness of a people which, if rightly and wisely led, is called to a great and happy future. And we will herewith also express our warmest and most sincere good wishes for the fulfilment of this our hope.”

After Prince William had brought out a toast to the union of the two princely houses, and the Prince of Roumania had expressed his thanks for the good wishes of all present, he added: “This day is the happiest of my life, for it has allowed me to find a bride who will stand by me in loving devotion during the fulfilment of the high mission which a whole nation has entrusted to me.” On the day of his betrothal the Prince had said to his bride: “You will have a noble duty in life. You can comfort when I am too severe, and can gently pray for all.” One of the relations wrote to the Princess of Wied: “We can congratulate the bridegroom on taking home a bride who will be a help and a blessing for his country. It would be difficult to find such another: I rejoice that Elizabeth’s sphere is not to be contracted into the small household circle of the woman. Her character will enlarge and expand in the large circle of interest which awaits her.”

The Princess of Wied now travelled with the bride to Baden-Baden, to introduce her to the King and Queen of Prussia, as head of the house of Hohenzollern, then to the Weinburg by Siegmaringen, whither Prince Charles had preceded her, and conducted their future daughter-in-law to the Prince and Princess of Hohenzollern. Prince Charles gave to his bride, amongst other things, an album for her Journal of Poems, and wrote on the first page: “Weinburg, 26th October 1869. Love is returned by love. Meet your people with the same love and confidence that you have shown to me, and then it will not be one heart alone which beats for you, but millions of hearts will unite with that one, and I shall deem myself happy, for you will not belong to me alone. A whole nation has a right to you. An entire people looks up to you with confidence, and will return your love by its devotion.”

Prince Charles announced his engagement in the following words to the Roumanian nation: “When I accepted a throne which the love and confidence of a whole nation entrusted to me, I understood that the uppermost thought in the unanimous election of a foreign Prince must be to establish a lasting dynasty in Roumania. To-day I have the happiness to announce to my people a guarantee for law and order, of which it stands in such need, whilst I inform the nation that I am betrothed to Princess Elizabeth of Wied, who was born on the 29th of December 1843.” This very important event called out much enthusiasm in the whole country. Bucharest and Jassy were illuminated, and a _Te Deum_ held in the cathedrals. Addresses of congratulations poured in from all sides. From the plains of the Danube to the vine-clad banks of the Rhine the electric wire endlessly repeated the winged words--“God save Carol I., ruler of the Roumanians.” “God save the Princess Elizabeth his bride.” A month later, on the 15th of November, the wedding was to be celebrated with much pomp and etiquette.

The Queen of Prussia had announced herself. A few days previously we read in the Journal--

“_Monrepos, 12th November 1869._--My lines have fallen on pleasant places--a fair inheritance is mine.”

On the 13th of November Prince Charles arrived in Neuwied, and was received with great enthusiasm. Guests streamed in from all sides. On the 14th of November the family of the Prince of Hohenzollern-Siegmaringen arrived, also the Count and Countess of Flanders, the reigning Prince of Waldeck, the Grand Duchess of Baden, Princess William of Baden, Prince Waldemar of Schleswig-Holstein-Augustenburg, the Princess and Counts of Solms-Braunfels, Laubach, and Rödelheim, with their consorts. The Queen of Prussia arrived on the wedding day. The Emperors of France and Germany were represented by their ambassadors, M. d’Oubril and Count Moosburg. The princely party were attended by numerous suites of German and Roumanian ladies and gentlemen.

On the 15th of November the sun arose in great splendour over Neuwied. It shone upon an animated picture. The palace and every single house in the town was decorated with flags and garlands. The neighbourhood of the palace, the garden, and the extensive park had been filled with groups of people since daybreak. They had come to see the bride once more. It is a peculiarity in the nature of the German people that they share the joys and sorrows of their Princes, and regard their concerns as their own. This hereditary affection between the Princess of Wied and the inhabitants of Neuwied has not disappeared, but has been faithfully preserved, and remained mutual. Consequently they felt that day as if a great family event were being celebrated in their midst. They were all heartily interested on this occasion. Was it not in honour of their beloved Princess Elizabeth, who was as well known in the houses of the poor and distressed as in those whom God had blessed with earthly treasures? Forty young ladies of Neuwied presented Princess Elizabeth with a beautiful carpet which they had worked. The local newspaper conveyed the congratulations of the citizens in expressive verses. All the members of the community rejoiced.

At half-past five the marriage procession started, and proceeded to a saloon which had been arranged as a Catholic chapel. The priest delivered a short address, rings were exchanged, and the young pair received the blessing of the Church upon their knees. After this the stately procession proceeded down the grand staircase in the same order as it came to a hall below, which Prince William had tastefully and richly arranged as a Protestant chapel. The vast hall swam in a sea of light. On the right and left of it galleries had been arranged, which had already for some time been filled by the officials and inhabitants of Neuwied and the neighbourhood, who had been invited to the ceremony. In the depth of the chapel a small wing had been built out to contain the altar on this occasion, upon which a simple cross was placed. Music sounded at the entrance of the young pair. Thereupon Pfarrer Lohmann turned to the betrothed and spoke touching words to them, which deeply moved all present. He had chosen his text from Ruth i. 16, 17: “Whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God. Where thou diest, I will die, and there will I be buried.” The important “Yes” was spoken by the Princess in unfaltering tone. Her experience in the home of her parents had taught her that a family becomes more closely bound together by sorrow and trial. But she had sealed her promise with a happy heart. “I am wholly thine, wherever thy way may lead me.” “Only they who have experienced such a thrilling moment can understand how overpowering and how blessed it is, and how joyfully the sacrifice is made.” (From the Wedding Discourse.) The august young pair made the sacred promise on their knees, exchanged rings, and received a blessing. The thunder of cannons announced that the marriage of the Princess of Wied and the Prince of Roumania was concluded.

After the sacred ceremony a reception was held at the palace to receive the congratulations of all, and a state dinner was served at six. The Queen of Prussia had brought out the first toast to the newly married pair, and salutes from the cannons, German and Roumanian National Hymns, and speeches, &c., animated the banquet. Meanwhile a general illumination lighted up the streets of Neuwied. To the most distant suburbs the houses were decked with flags and garlands, draperies and transparencies.

The youthful pair then drove through the town, amidst the hearty cheers of the people, and accompanied by their august guests. The cheers that welcomed them were not official. They sounded like greetings of joy and blessing. And not only the town of Neuwied, but the whole principality, shared in the enthusiasm of that festive day. Hearty cheers for the princely pair resounded from all sides, and seventy-four places in the principality of Wied had sent in addresses of congratulations on that day.

The Prince of Roumania and his bride were afterwards conducted to Monrepos, where they spent the remaining time, which the Princess was to pass in her old home. The following day the young pair gave a family dinner party. The municipality and the leading citizens had arranged a brilliant ball for that evening in their honour. On the second day the princely family gave a concert in the new concert hall, where Otto von Konigslaw performed with the famous Quartette of Cologne, and the band of the Queen of Prussia’s Regiment assisted. After the concert a magnificent display of fireworks took place in front of the castle. And so the people of Neuwied saw the Princess whom they had so fondly named “Our Elizabeth” for the last time in her own home. And she has remained “Our Elizabeth” to them till the present day, and is received in the same enthusiastic manner when she returns amongst them.

The young pair had started on their journey to Roumania on the 18th of November. With happy confidence Princess Elizabeth followed the husband of her choice. No political reasons, but a true union of their hearts, had united them. Stern duties awaited them in the unknown land. But they encountered them unflinchingly and zealously. A poem which was published five years after in her first work, styled “Roumanian Poetry,” shows that in her new home she thought of her own country with unaltered affection.

With the words of this song we will close the history of the life of Princess Elizabeth in the home of her parents.

“Thou Land of Vines! thou leafy shore!
Thou rippling, silver river!
Thy glitter’s gone, thy song is o’er,
Parted we are for ever!

Oft, oft my tearful eyes I close,
And hear thee warbling, welling;
On thy bright breast the vessel goes,
The breeze its sails is swelling.

That I the loveliest German home
Once had my happy lot in,
Constrains that, till to death I come,
It ne’er can be forgotten!”

--_Translated by Sir Edwin Arnold._

VII.

Arrival in Roumania.

Hardly three years had gone by since, in May 1866, Prince Charles had undertaken the government of Roumania. Germany was then in a state of excitement, the relations between Prussia and Austria being much strained. Every day a declaration of war was imminent. Under these circumstances the newly elected Prince of Roumania could only proceed in disguise and incognito through the territory of the enemy. No one on board the ship which had brought him down the Danube could have guessed that their fellow-traveller, a modest and reserved young man, was the scion of the house of Hohenzollern who had the courage to carry the great mission of his house to the distant East. When the ship anchored at Turnu Severin, the first town of Roumania, triumphal arches were seen erected close to the banks of the river, men in gold-embroidered uniforms, troops drawn up on parade, and a countless crowd of people. All were awaiting the arrival of the ship in joyful expectation.

Prince Carol I. had been on board the ship. The endless cheers, the rolling of drums and the braying of trumpets, were in his honour, as he left the ship with his two companions and landed on Roumanian soil for the first time. It was a historical moment of great importance. As a thank-offering for the brilliant reception which he had received at Turnu Severin, and as a memorial of that day, the Prince has built a church there at his own expense.

Full of confidence in the future of Roumania, and inspired by an earnest determination to exert a powerful influence on the fortunes of the country committed to his charge, Prince Carol made his solemn entry into Bucharest on the 22nd of May 1866. After taking the kingly oath to the constitution laid before him by the chambers, the young Prince addressed the assembled parliament in the following short but weighty speech:--“In setting foot on the soil of this country I have become a Roumanian. I know that great duties are required of me, but I hope to fulfil them. I bring to my new country a true heart, loyal intentions, a strong determination to uphold the right, a boundless devotion, and that unswerving respect for the law which I have inherited from my ancestors. A citizen to-day, to-morrow, if need be, a soldier, I shall share with you from henceforth both good and evil days alike. Trust me as I trust you. God only knows what the future has in store for our country. In the meantime let us be unweary in the fulfilment of our duties, and Providence, which has guided your chosen sovereign thus far and cleared all difficulties from my path, will surely not leave her work unaccomplished.”

Extraordinary difficulties met him at once in the beginning of his reign. Russia regarded him with an unfriendly eye, Austria treated him as an enemy, and Turkey found fault with all he did. Added to this the lax discipline of the army, the untrustworthiness of the officials, low finances, persecution of the Jews, and a crisis in the ministry! The ruler of this land, thus shattered by the strife of parties, had need of a firm will and unshaken confidence in the success of his enterprise if he would restore it to order. But Prince Charles had undertaken the position with a true sense of his heavy responsibilities. In a very short time he realised the grave difficulties of the task. Every affair of State or question of law, and even the practical affairs of the country, were submitted to his careful judgment. Restlessly active himself, he demanded much work and great perseverance from his ministers. In order to understand the wants of the people and the faults of the administration, Prince Charles constantly travelled through the length and breadth of his country. With a discerning glance he sought to find those men from amongst his subjects who combined a knowledge of the affairs of their country with true patriotism. He could consequently be assured of their help when he called them to his side as councillors.

In order to unite Roumania with the rest of Europe new roads of communication were opened, the teaching in church and school improved, and the reforms in the army begun on a large scale. Prince Charles steadily pursued his plans of reform, though his endeavours were misconstrued by those who wished him ill, and he had often to face the greatest difficulties because many of his ideas did not succeed at once. He well knew that many years must go by before Roumania could be radically improved, and that his reforms must be progressive and slow. He awaited a time of lasting success with the wisdom and perseverance of a true statesman. He might well say: “I stand here alone at this distant post as sentry facing the East. And as a captain on a stormy sea must stand by his ship by night and day, so must I keep watch and ward.”

True to his oath, he identified himself with his people from the moment that he undertook the government of the Danubian principalities. He had done this with a high sense of duty and the conscientiousness of a true German.

At the side of this man of lofty character, who had already made his mark in the world, Princess Elizabeth was to enter her new home. On the 18th of November the young princely pair had left Neuwied. They stopped at Pesth in order to visit the Emperor of Austria, and continued their journey on the 21st amid the enthusiastic cheers of the Roumanians settled at Pesth. A special train brought their Highnesses to Bazias, where the Austrian steamer _Franz Josef_ awaited them. The banner of Roumania waved at the high mast, the sailors manned the oars, and the _Franz Josef_ steamed between the craggy rocks of the Danube towards Roumania.

Thus they reached Alt-Orsova. The Czerna, or Black River, here joins its waves to those of the Danube, and forms the boundary between Austria and Roumania. The sentries of the frontier saluted, and the inhabitants of the few slate-roofed houses shouted “Hurrah!” A rocky island, with a half ruined fortress of New Orsova, stands further down the Danube. The garrison presented arms, and three times the flag with a half moon was lowered as a sign of greeting. Opposite New Orsova lies Verzerova, the frontier town of Roumania. The so-called “borderers” had arranged themselves in a long line along the shore. They were dressed in long grey cloaks, and wore sandals, whilst their garments were fastened together with leathern girdles and straps. On the column of Trajan the Datians are represented in the same costume. The rolling of drums, the braying of trumpets, and endless cheers greeted the ship, which was then proceeding at slow speed. The princely pair stood on deck and greeted the boundary of their country and their first subjects.

The Danube here winds its way through an immense wilderness. High and almost perpendicular rocks enclose the mighty bed of the river, which has many windings, and becomes narrower as it proceeds. Hardly has the _Franz Josef_ passed the most dangerous of the eddies when the “Iron Gateway” is reached. The banks of the river are opener here, and not so much shut in by the rocks, but the roaring of the foaming waves tell of a dangerously rocky bed which here stretches to the whole breadth of the Danube for a long way. By degrees the country becomes less desolate, the mountains more distant. Rich fields and vineyards abound, and stately groups of houses, with glistening church towers rising above them, become visible.

It is Turnu Severin. The town, with its harbour, looks very pretty as the ship approaches. The ships that lie at anchor are bright with flags. Roumania’s vessels of war, _Romania_ and _Stephen Cel Mar_, are among them. The steep banks of the river were crowded with people. Endless cheers resounded as the _Franz Josef_ neared the land. The soldiers on board the _Stephen Cel Mar_ saluted, whilst the troops drawn up on shore presented arms. Cannons roared, and the solemn tones of the Roumanian National Hymn were heard. On the 22nd of November (the birthday of her lost brother) Princess Elizabeth, leaning on the arm of her husband, first set foot on Roumanian soil. She was received by well-dressed ladies carrying bouquets, the Prime Minister, Prince Ghica, and the Prefect and officials of the town. The national offering of bread and salt was presented on a silver salver decorated with flowers, and the keys of the town were presented to the young Princess. Amidst the cheering of the people and the tolling of bells the Prince and Princess drove to the church. Here a _Te Deum_ was first sung, and then priests and people on their knees invoked the blessing of the Almighty on the sovereign pair.

According to an ancient custom of the Greek Church, a book of the gospels and the cross richly ornamented with jewels was brought to them to kiss after the service. Then followed a great reception at the Town Hall, at which the officials of neighbouring districts appeared in their picturesque national costumes. After this the princely pair returned to the ship, whilst the enthusiastic people rushed after the carriage, which was covered with flowers. Citizens and people waving their caps in the air shouted “Hurrah!” and “Se treasca marüle Cor!” (Long life to your Highnesses!)

After this the Roumanian steamers accompanied the _Franz Josef_. Deputations waited at every village they passed, and a reception was everywhere accorded them. Sometimes their progress was hindered by a thick fog. Then the _Romania_ and the _Stephen Cel Mar_ neared the _Franz Josef_, and the bands they had on board played lively airs till the rays of the sun dispersed the mists and they could proceed on their way. They reached Giurgevo, the capital of the district Vlaska. Here the princely pair landed, greeted again by the sound of the National Anthem and the enthusiastic cheering of the crowd. Under a richly decorated triumphal arch the officials of the district of Vlaska did homage to the Princess, and the town of Giurgevo besought her graciously to accept a cart of Roumanian soil as her own. A carriage drawn by eight horses, which were ridden by postillions in national costume, here awaited their Highnesses. Peasants in their richest dress rode on either side of the carriage. Each one carried a fir-tree decorated with gilded apples and glittering chains of gold tinsel. This is the emblem of a Roumanian wedding which must never be wanting at such ceremonies. According to Roumanian custom the princely carriage with its picturesque suite was taken at a gallop through the streets towards the station, pursued by the crowd, who were cheering excitedly. At the station there was another official reception, at which the Pacha of Rustschuk had also appeared.

A special train was in readiness. It was the first railway that had been built on Roumanian territory, the first time that the Prince proceeded by rail from Giurgevo to Bucharest. They were now travelling through the great plain of Wallachia. The inhabitants of the neighbourhood had assembled along the route and at the stations to welcome the sovereign pair.

In an intense heat as of summer, at one o’clock on the afternoon of the 25th of November, the train neared the capital of Roumania. The station is built upon a little height to the south of the town, from whence there is a view over a landscape of oriental beauty. Bucharest is spread over undulating valleys on two sides of the Dimbovitza, and one looks down upon a multitude of bright-coloured houses. The lead-covered domes of the three hundred and sixty churches shine among the groups of trees as if they were of silver. Upon a hill in the centre of the town stands the white Metropolia, which towers above all. On the day of the public entry many bright flags waved from its bright towers. Amidst the green gardens rise the palaces of the “Boyards,” with their roofs of lead, galleries, arched passages, staircases, and small columns, a curious mixture of Byzantine style and Turkish form. The more distant houses seem to disappear in a haze of blue. The dark chain of the Carpathians arises in the background, abruptly ending with the snow-capped peaks of the Bucegi. Those who first look down upon this oriental world must necessarily be struck by its curious and fantastic appearance. Princess Elizabeth, with her enthusiastic, artistic nature, “was quite enchanted at the gorgeous colouring of the picture which here met her view.”

In the great hall of the station the infantry and National Guard had been drawn up with their regimental band and flags. All the Ministers and Prefects were present at the reception. Cantacuzeno, the Mayor of Bucharest, greeted their Highnesses in the name of the town with the usual bread and salt. A deputation of ladies of the aristocracy presented the Princess with a nosegay in a golden handle studded with diamonds. The representatives of the Guilds, with their emblems and flags, as well as numerous bearers of fir-trees glittering with gold, were waiting outside the station. The military formed a line to the town. The multitudes of Roumanians who, attired in their Sunday best, crowded the streets, houses, and balconies, in order to welcome the young Princess on her entry, were not to be numbered.

Amidst the thundering of the cannons, the pealing of the bells of all the churches, the strains of the National Anthem, and whilst the troops were presenting arms, and the crowds cheering enthusiastically, the procession, which was opened by the bearers of the fir-trees, wound its way up to the Metropolia. The clergy, assembled in large numbers, received the princely pair at the door of the church. At their head was the much-respected Metropolitan of Bucharest, the Primate of Roumania. His garment of cloth of gold surrounded him in stiff folds. Upon his head was a mitre glittering with precious stones, and he bore the bishop’s staff, encircled by a serpent, in his hand. The Metropolitan of Jassy stood beside him, and in a large half circle round were the bishops of the different dioceses--magnificent figures with flowing beards and garments of gold brocade. Further off many clergy of lower rank had been placed.

Through a large entrance hall erected for this ceremony their Highnesses entered the centre of the church, under whose huge dome two magnificently carved thrones had been prepared for them. The _Te Deum_ had been sung by the choir of priests, then the Metropolitan read the Gospel for the day in solemn tones, and in an unbroken stillness the congregation listened to the words of Holy Writ.

A song of praise resounded once more, and then Prince Charles descended the steps of the throne with his bride, and proceeding to the high altar, knelt before the Metropolitans, who offered them the Cross and the Book of the Gospels to kiss. The high wax candles, and the eternal lamps before the pictures of the saints, could only shed a soft light through the immense church. But the sun stole through the small stone windows and magically lighted up this interesting and pompous scene, during which the young German princely pair was surrounded by the pomp and magnificence of the oriental priesthood and initiated into its mysteries.

The ceremony in the church was ended. Opposite to the entrance to the church steps led up to a large platform which had been erected. Two thrones were placed there under a rich daïs of purple. Forty young couples had received their marriage outfit from Prince Charles in honour of the occasion, and were to be married on that day. In the Green Hall, on both sides of the way that their Highnesses must pass, stood the brown-eyed maidens in bridal array, their masses of black hair covered with hanging golden threads, which are the badge of the Wallachian bride. The princely pair were conducted to their thrones by a long procession formed by the clergy, the ministers and ladies in waiting, cavaliers, senators, deputations, the diplomatic corps, &c. Here the marriage contract was brought to them on a red velvet cushion, and was confirmed by their signature. In a clear voice, which could be heard at a distance, Prince Charles then made a short speech to his subjects, after which the pealing of bells and the thunder of cannon announced to the Roumanian people that the Mayor of Bucharest had inscribed the marriage in the registers of the town.

Martial music now resounded, and a procession of carriages was arranged, which moved slowly towards the castle amidst the joyous cheers of the crowd. Of endless variety were the types of the assembled multitude. The national costumes, which the people of Roumania have preserved intact, were gorgeous in colour and brilliancy. The fine type of the women, with their glittering bodices, their wulinks or aprons adorned with bright embroidery and little plates of metal, their veils and sandals, made up a fine picture. Then the men with their round fur caps over their black eyes, their bronzed faces surrounded with dark curls, a jacket of sheep’s skin embroidered with flowers and geometrical figures over their shoulders, and a long garment beneath, the adornment of which was primitive. Amongst these picturesque groups were Wallachian Jews in furs, and beggars in rags and tatters.

All these made up a peculiarly picturesque scene, and all eyes were riveted on the graceful presence of their young Princess.

In the throne room of the palace a deputation of the ladies of Bucharest presented the Princess with an offering from the town. It consisted of a costly diadem of pearls and diamonds, and a beautifully and artistically embroidered national costume. This was the close of the official reception.

When the twilight was fading into darkness the houses of Bucharest were illuminated with many colours. There was a gala representation at the theatre. Allegoric groups with reference to the princely pair were arranged on the stage, and an “Oda da Elisabeta” had been composed for the occasion. So ended this festive day, which had been enhanced by the most beautiful weather, and during which everything had gone off to perfection.

When Princess Elizabeth was leaving her old home they had called after her--“May your entrance into Roumania also be an entrance into the hearts of your people.” This prophetic hope has been amply fulfilled. By her simplicity and her amiable manners, as well as by her winning voice and charming appearance, Princess Elizabeth took all hearts by storm on her arrival in Roumania. The expectant people felt at once that this was a Princess who could understand and relieve their distress. And they were not mistaken in their judgment, for Princess Elizabeth has become a mother to her country in the fullest sense of the word.

VIII.

Maternal Joy and Sorrow.

The Princess had begun her new life in her new home with illness. Only her wonderful energy had enabled her to bear the fatigues of her public reception whilst labouring under great physical discomfort. On the third day after her public entrance the Princess was attacked by the measles, though fortunately only slightly, and the illness was not of long duration. After the great excitement of the last weeks the enforced quiet could only be desirable. How happy the Princess felt in her new surroundings a little poem shows which she inscribed in her Journal on the 12th of December 1869:--

“From a gladsome month a jubilee song
Soars up to the skies above,
Like the lark’s song saying, so clear and strong,
‘What a beautiful world to love!’”

After her recovery the first expedition the Princess made was to Cotroceni, which is situated on a height at ten minutes’ distance from Bucharest. It is an old monastery, surrounded by a thickly wooded park, which the Prince had arranged as a country house for the summer. Not far off, beyond the green trees, the shining domes of the Asyle Hélène, an educational establishment for young orphan girls, are seen. From this height the view of Bucharest is also very fine. This is nearer to the town than the station, and the coming and going in the wood-paved streets can be distinctly perceived. Women in their dazzlingly white linen and embroidered garments are seen busily painting their cottages white and their windows red and blue. These cottages are roofed with wooden tiles, and lie scattered between the gorgeous palaces of the Boyards. Under the willows and alders on the banks of the Dimbovitza lie magnificent buffaloes, idly resting, and half lost to view in the deep mud and the green foliage. Only their expressive faces with their immense horns are still visible. Carriages drawn by eight and sometimes twelve little horses rush by at full gallop. A boy guides them with one hand. His fiery glances and his fur cap placed on one side of his head lead one to gather that he is not of a sort to stop at any danger. Carmen Sylva has drawn a lively picture of these characteristics of the Roumanian coachman in her poem called “The Post.” Here artistic ideas meet one at every turn, for amidst such surroundings everything groups itself into a picture, especially during the oriental sunsets, the glowing colours of which blend harmoniously.

Now the life of duty which her exalted station imposed upon her began for the Princess--“It is only in Roumania that something remains to be done,” she had exclaimed in fun. And now she stood face to face with her coveted sphere. A large field of labour, till now uncultivated, lay before her. The first thing was to become acquainted with the soil and its resources. In this the large Court receptions could not help her. Consequently Princess Elizabeth had arranged that each lady who wished to pay her respects at Court was to be separately received by her. Being exceptionally free from prejudice, she now learnt to understand the true worth of people, and to realise what they thought and felt. “It was too disagreeable to me,” she said, “to have to say things during the State receptions which I did not really mean. In order not to be false, I endeavoured to feel the interest which I expressed. Every human being is in want of sympathy. And now every one interests me, and I find them all interesting. Consequently I do not now find the audiences tiresome; on the contrary, I look forward to them. The smallest thing I do must be done with my whole heart if it is to succeed, and the least thing I am will require all my power if I am to be anything.”

The beginning of the year 1870 brought with it many tears. There were many conflicts and confusions in the Administration. The Franco-German War having been declared, her brother, Prince William of Wied, had responded to the call of his country, and received an officer’s commission in the general staff of the army corps. His mother, his bride, and his sister trembled for his life. But he passed through the field of battle unscathed, and was decorated with the iron cross as a reward of his valour. On the 7th of September Princess Elizabeth received a letter from Prince William, written from Sedan, with the news of victory. At noon on the following day, the 8th of September, twenty-one salvos of artillery announced to the inhabitants of Bucharest that a daughter was born to their princely house. A few hours later the Metropolitan appeared in full dress. He held the sacred Ikon over the mother and the child in its cradle, blessed them with holy water, and repeated the customary prayers.

The new-born Princess was baptized into the orthodox Greek Church, and received the name of “Marie.” The news of the event was received with great joy through the country--“God bless the new citizen of Roumania, and may she grow up to be the joy of her parents and a blessing to her country.” This was the devout wish of many thousands of people. The tiny Princess became forthwith almost the most important personage in the whole of Roumania. Every one was interested in her welfare, and she seemed to belong to all, for she was born in the country.

Princess Elizabeth was intensely devoted to her beloved child. She was filled with the sacred feeling of happy motherhood. The radiant eyes of her child changed the face of the world to her. She had a still deeper sympathy for the sorrows of others, and their happiness became but a reflection of her own. As a recollection of this time she wrote in her Journal at a later date the following poem, entitled

MOTHER.

“The sweetest name this earth around,
The sweetest word in all speech found,
Is ‘Mother!’
Yes; none so deep and tender seems,
Comes quicklier, with such fond thoughts teems,
As ‘Mother!’

And most of all, its music shows,
Lisped from a baby’s lips of rose,
‘Ah, Mother!’
Laughed from a baby’s lightsome eye,
Babbled from heart of infancy,
‘My Mother!’

Yes; she to whom the dear name’s said
Has all her life great goodlihead
As ‘Mother!’
But whoso had it, and has lost,
Sees earthly happiness quite crossed--
Sad Mother!”

--_Translated by Sir Edwin Arnold._

There is also another poem with the title--

MY OLD AND NEW HOME.

“Full many a grave in Monrepos
O’er which the forest boughs are tost,
Argues the grief that rends my heart
For those whom I have loved and lost.

But Monrepos proclaimed me his,
My lord’s, till soul and body part;
Divinely sent he came, and I
Became the chosen of his heart.

All this thou silent grove with me
In solemn sympathy hast seen;
The rest was shrouded from thy gaze,
For many a league lay stretched between.

In distant land new scenes surround,
Alternatives of joy and care;
My baby’s voice there strikes my ear,
Hope, love and sorrow, all are there.”

When the little Princess, who called herself “Itty,” first called her “mother,” the Princess wrote--

A WORD.

“Let every tongue proclaim it,
And waft it every gale,
My child has lisped out “mother!”
Ye birds chirp forth the tale.

Beside myself with gladness,
I can scarce my joy believe;
My heart leaps up within me,
And laughs from morn till eve.

My native tongue I thank thee
For such a word divine;
For ever and for ever
A mother’s name is mine!”

But whilst this treasure of the princely house flourished and grew in its nurseries, there was much trouble in the country. The Strousberg railway affairs became a great difficulty to the Prince. He employed every means in his power to arrange the matter according to the best interests of Roumania. A crisis in the ministry necessitated a change of Cabinet. A revolution broke out in Bucharest. The Prince would have resigned, but his steadfast calmness impressed the passionate and excitable people of Roumania; the stormy political waves were gradually subdued, and the work for the country proceeded quietly once more.

Meanwhile Princess Elizabeth diligently studied the Roumanian language. Her knowledge of Latin and Italian were a good foundation for the idiom of the country, and she soon overcame all difficulties. She is now entirely mistress of the Roumanian language, and the Roumanians proudly declare that their Queen speaks it better than themselves, as she forms her sentences with peculiar exactness. In the year 1871 the first society for the relief of the poor was founded by Princess Elizabeth, and soon after a society for the translation of children’s books. “There are absolutely no Roumanian books for the schools and the people,” Princess Elizabeth wrote to her mother. “I will undertake this. I have already divided my best French children’s books amongst the young ladies, and have gained the interest of some gentlemen. The poet Alexandri will criticise and correct the translations, which are then to be quickly and cheaply printed. In this manner the language itself will become more fixed, and the young people, who do not speak their own language correctly, will learn it to perfection. It is curious how zealously the people take up this idea. They regard it as a safeguard against the revolutionary ideas of the young people, who now discuss nothing but politics. Politics excite the people here to such an extent that men, women, and even children have no other interests. General Florescu is the most eager in furthering my plans, and thinks that if I interest more people in this movement it would have a good influence on society. Private theatricals and concerts also awake more noble ambitions. Societies for relieving the poor, for translating and teaching, everything is arranging itself by degrees.”

In April 1871 the Prince travelled with his consort through Moldavia to Jassy, that she might also learn to know this part of her country. The journey resembled a triumphal procession, and their reception was brilliant and hearty everywhere. At all the greater places deputations and petitions were received, the customary bread and salt presented, and a _Te Deum_ heard in the church. The Princess writes--“It is impossible to imagine such enthusiasm and the cheers given by thousands. Our time in Jassy was filled up with audiences, visits to churches and schools, expeditions to the neighbouring monasteries, &c. Joyful enthusiasm prevailed among all the people.”

On her return the Princess wrote to her mother--“How shall I describe to you the magnificent country through which we drove, our eight horses with postillions cracking their whips and shouting, the three or four hundred peasants who accompanied _ventre à terra_, their mantles of white goat’s hair streaming in the wind, and their high, white fur caps on their heads! What shall I say about the nice people in Moldavia, and of the proud feeling it was to hear on every railway line, on every bridge and highroad, that my husband had had it made, and then to gallop onward! And then returning here, after thousands had greeted us, again to clasp the best beloved amongst all those thousands, healthy and blooming, in my arms!” Does not untold happiness resound in these words? And now the Princess of Wied was soon expected, a pleasure which Princess Elizabeth and her husband were eagerly looking forward to. In July 1871 the wedding of Prince William of Wied had been celebrated at the Hague. A few weeks later the Princess of Wied first visited her children at Bucharest, and held her first grandchild in her arms. Bright happiness filled their hearts and their home.

For the health of the little Princess it became desirable to spend the summer with her in mountain and forest air. It is the only remedy against the attacks of fever to which every one is subjected soon or later in the Roumanian plains. From this time the Prince resided in the Carpathians in the summer. There in the valley of the Prahova, two thousand nine hundred feet high, upon a precipitous rocky mountain, stands the monastery of Sinaia. A Prince Cantacuzéne had built and named it after the Temple on Mount Sinai. It had been used till then as a Hospice for the many caravans of ox-carts which, laden with maize, proceed day and night almost uninterruptedly over the mountain paths to Transylvania. The peaks of the Carpathians tower in fantastic forms behind the monastery. Carmen Sylva has enriched them with poetic legends in her poems. First comes Virful-cu-Dor (the Heights of Longing), then Furnica, Piatre Arsa, the two Jipi which arise like the teeth of a giant. The deafening waterfall Urlatoare (the Howling One) rushes down to the Prahova valley, and the Omul and Caraiman, eight thousand nine hundred feet in height, stand dark and threatening with their mighty rocks.

_Woodbury Compy._

CASTLE PELESCH.]

These are all names which we have learnt to know and love through the “little book” from Carmen Sylva’s “Kingdom.” Huge mountains crowned with verdure stretch into the plain. Their feet are clothed with forests of beech and oak, whilst their heights are covered with fir-trees. From the monastery you attain the deep solitude of a forest which is here as beautiful as a dream. Gigantic old trees rear their branches to heaven. If one falls, oppressed with the weight of years, it is allowed to remain there till, covered with creepers and moss, it completes the woodland scenery, and young trees grow out of the mouldering trunk. Ferns and orchids of endless varieties and unusual height delight the friend of nature. In this magnificent vegetation every foot of land is covered with multitudes of botanic species, one might say the history of the forest. The most beautiful flowers of the Alps, Edelweiss and Almenrausch, are found on the heights of the foremost mountains. Not far from the monastery the Pelesch casts itself down from Bucegi to the valley below in a foaming waterfall, “wildly escaping from its bounds as if it would take the world by storm.” Its seething waves flow down endlessly, and the river winds hither and thither, and has often devastated the country in its course. It is a beautiful and ever varying picture of steep mountains, shady valleys, and running brooks.

The white walls of the monastery welcome the wanderer from afar. The one-storied building is of very humble dimensions, and surrounds the square court of the monastery, which is devoid of any ornament, and in the centre of which a church stands. The inhabited part is ornamented with wooden arcades, and old Byzantine paintings still adorn the outside walls. Thirty monks, types of the eastern clergy, here enjoy in peaceful repose the blessings of this pious institution. Half of this humble habitation had been allotted to the Prince. Lightly built additions in fir wood had been made to the principal building in order to make it at all habitable. If the banner of Roumania had not waved over the entrance, and sentries paced up and down the verandahs, one could easier imagine that an artist had made his home here than that this was the residence of a Prince. We can scarcely conceive with what simplicity and content the princely pair here bore the greatest discomfort for many years. The Princess, for instance, heard the ticking of the clock in the neighbouring cell of an old monk in her dressing-room. The monks dined in the refectory; the Prince in a passage which had been arranged as a dining-room. At first provisions arrived from Kronstadt only twice in the week. But no deprivations seemed worth mentioning here, for in Sinaia as in Monrepos was forest air and liberty in which the Princess delighted.

Higher up in the valley, under the shade of high trees, the Prince had built a shooting-box, and surrounded it with a simple garden. Under its roof the Princess arranged a tiny room very artistically. One gazes through coloured windows upon the groups of fir trees of a hundred years’ growth. A simple desk covered with cloth, a pair of chairs, and a low table laden with books, paint brushes, and colours are all its furniture. It is the sanctum of the Princess, to which she retires when the stream of visitors who unceasingly come out to Sinaia have fatigued her. Here she can write, paint, and compose poetry undisturbed.

Scientific men, musicians, and painters are constantly invited to Sinaia, and are often for weeks the guests of the princely pair. Here they lead an ideal life. Intercourse with distinguished people, be they artists or learned or otherwise clever men, is the great delight of the Prince and Princess. They love to gaze, as it were, into the workshop whence thought has sprung, and have a deep regard for the earnestness of labour in art or science. Gaiety and cheerfulness reign in these circles. Often the Princess will read to the assembled company at breakfast a poem she has just completed, that treats of their conversations or the events of the day, with youthful cheerfulness. By noon the winged words have already been set to music by one of the musicians, and presented to the Princess as a duet, trio, or quartette, according to the voices of those present. In the evening these new compositions are performed, and the young people end the day with dances and games.

Long walks and climbing parties are undertaken during the fine weather. Accompanied by the sound of the waves of the restless Pelesch, one climbs along grassy walks into the steep beech woods. In a convenient costume for mountaineering, the Princess, hat in hand, leads the way for the joyous company. She feels at home in the woods or in the mountains: they are her kingdom, and there her fancy is free. The following poem was composed on the 12th of September 1873, under the trees near the shooting-box:--

MY COMRADES.

“We dwelt together, where flows the Rhine,
The forest and I and these songs of mine,
In the days when my life was young.
And we whispered low to the silver stream,
When its ripples were kissed by the moon’s pure beam,
What we fancied and dreamed and sung.

But a fateful hour there dawned for me,
When I sought, afar from my comrades three,
In the glittering east a home:
Farewell, I cried, I am sad at heart,
Ye friends of my childhood, for we must part;
Will none of you with me come?

Then the Rhine and the forest shook each his head--
Too old to wander, are we, they said,
Although we have held thee dear.
But lo! when I reached this eastern land,
The rhymes came round me, a merry band,
For my songs had followed me here!”

Here in Sinaia Princess Elizabeth came into direct communication with the people, winning hearts and showering blessings everywhere. In order to encourage native industry she made up her mind to wear the Roumanian national costume during their summer residence in the Carpathians. All the ladies of the Court soon followed her example, and carried out the wish of their sovereign. One could imagine oneself transported into the middle of a fairy tale whilst a troop of lovely ladies, in glittering garments which glow with bright colours, suddenly appear on a hill-side or beside a mountain stream under mighty beech and fir-trees. There are dainty embroideries in gold and silver, golden head-dresses and long flowing veils which are picturesquely bound round the head and neck. The whole of this oriental costume has its charms enhanced by the lively southern temperament of the Roumanian ladies.