“Downward the Danube floweth broad,
So strength-assured, so peaceable;
Fast in her arms the land she holds,
And to her soft heart closely folds
Those marches she must cover well.
Widdin and Kalafat stand there
Backed in the golden evening gleam,
And quiet broodeth over all--
Lo! thunders peal and lightnings fall!
The firm earth shakes, smoke veils the stream!
See, hissing in the golden flood,
And shrilly whistling through the air,
Flung from black fiery cannon-mouth
Brotherly greetings hustle forth!
The dreadful shells fly here and there!
High on the topmost parapet
There stands Prince Karl so tranquilly.
Men! Gaze straight in the eyes of death,
Your leader nothing pondereth
Of dangers which around him be.
He looks with earnest countenance
Afield, and asks if Fortune’s hand
Will help him storm with footmen brave
Widdin, and bridge blue Danube’s wave
For passage of his hero band.
But ah! One pace in front of him
A crash, a sparkling, splintering shock!
Startled they see, where that bomb came,
Their Prince amid a sea of flame
Erect, alone, firm as the rock.
One soldier wildly signs the cross,
Another sinks upon his knees--
‘Our Prince is hurt, O cruel fate!
The only helmsman of the State.’
Lamentingly so clamour these.
But he, his war-cap waving high
Clear and alert, from manly breast
Cries out--‘The music suits me so;
This is my tune, this air I know!
Hurrah! Now have I of life’s best.’
And Danube heard the martial voice,
Her deep heart thrilled, she knew its tone;
Her waves, as they went limpid by,
Responded in serene reply
To Hohenzollern’s noble son.”
--_Translated by Sir Edwin Arnold._
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:--