Ferdinand of Sigmaringen becomes heir to the throne--He is a good
soldier and a favourite with his officers--The friend of the
Allies--His marriage with Princess Marie--The Princess’s
home-coming: a lonely stranger--A gala performance--The Prince’s
mission to Germany--Roumanian officers meet half a dozen Herr
“Mahlzeits.”
As the late King Carol of Roumania had no children (his little daughter
having died young), he chose, with the consent of the Roumanians, his
nephew Ferdinand of Sigmaringen as his successor. The latter, like
his uncle, was a Roman Catholic, and to this the Roumanians made no
objection, only stipulating that in the event of his marriage his
children should be baptised into the Greek Church--a very natural
condition, I think.
The present King of Roumania has many characteristics of his race, is a
great stickler for etiquette and a good soldier, but is not so versed
in the art of diplomacy as King Carol. On account of his soldierly
qualities he is a great favourite with the officers of his army. His
accession to the throne was not looked forward to with universally
confident feelings, but he has surprised most people by the manner
in which he has adapted himself to the position. He carries himself
much more assuredly, and has a dignified bearing that impresses the
Roumanians. He was, I believe, entirely at one with his people as
regards the late war.
He married Princess Marie of Edinburgh, and well do I remember the day
of the bride’s entrance into Bucarest. It was an awkward moment for her
arrival, as Queen Elizabeth was just then absent from the country and
there was really no one to initiate her into the mysteries of Court
life in Roumania. It was said that the Duchess of Edinburgh had wished
her daughter to be accompanied by an English maid-of-honour; but on
that point King Carol was very obstinate, and would not allow it on
any account. It must have been a lonely time for the young girl of
seventeen, in a strange country and surrounded by strangers. Even the
King and Prince Ferdinand came under this description, as I believe she
had seen very little of them before her marriage.
The day of her state entrance into the capital was one of great
excitement. The streets were decorated; a profusion of flowers was in
evidence, and of course the national colours, red, blue, and yellow,
were to be seen everywhere. I had a place on a balcony near the royal
palace, from which I had a splendid view.
Everyone was eager to see the Princess, and as the time approached
for the procession to leave the railway station the excitement became
intense. Finally some mounted police made their appearance in order to
clear the way, after them a detachment of cavalry, then at last the
royal carriage. It was a state carriage, glass on all sides, and it was
simply embowered in flowers. Princess Marie, looking rather pale and
scared, was seated beside King Carol, whilst Prince Ferdinand occupied
a back seat. It seemed rather hard lines for the newly-made husband to
be relegated to a solitary back seat, but naturally it could not be
arranged otherwise in the Queen’s absence. The procession went straight
to the Métropole, where the marriage service was performed for the
third time. In the evening there was a gala performance at the National
Theatre.
Some friends and I shared a box, from which we had a good view of the
royal box. Princess Marie looked charmingly sweet and girlish, with
her turquoise ornaments on throat and hair. Prince Ferdinand on this
occasion had a front seat, as the King was not present. The latter very
rarely attended a theatre.
When the present King was simply Prince Ferdinand, he was sent on a
mission to Germany by King Carol. In his suite were three or four
officers who had no acquaintance whatever with the German language.
On the day of their arrival at S---- the Prince and his suite were
entertained to a banquet by the officers of the garrison. The Roumanian
officers entered the anteroom before the Prince appeared, and were
somewhat at a loss. Now all travellers know that Continental people
in such circumstances introduce themselves by mentioning their names.
Those acquainted with Germany will also know that the invariable
greeting at dinner is “Mahlzeit,” an expression which, whilst it
literally means “meal-time,” is really equivalent to _bon appetit_.
So it came about that when a German officer with his hand on his
heart approached a Roumanian, and bowing said “Mahlzeit,” the latter
responded with “Bibescu,” as he warmly shook hands. To the greeting
“Mahlzeit,” tendered by another of their hosts, a second Roumanian
officer murmured “Greciano,” and Florescu and others followed suit.
Later, in conversation with Prince Ferdinand, the puzzled Roumanians
commented upon the curious fact that their hosts all belonged to the
same family and bore the name of “Mahlzeit.” The officer who told me
the story said that when the Prince fairly understood what had occurred
he roared with laughter. “I have never,” my friend said, “seen the
Prince so relax his reserve. He simply could not contain himself for
some minutes, and for a long time he made a point of greeting us with
‘Mahlzeit’ upon every possible occasion.”