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.