—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.