The bells of the monastery chapel were tolling. Round about the courtyard of the monastery stood the second battalion of Chasseurs eagerly awaiting the arrival of the royal pair, who were descending from the castle to the cloister attended by a large suite. The flag of Roumania, adorned with its star, and torn to shreds in the battles, was lowered upon the entrance of the royal pair, who now entered the church. Within resounded a solemn mass for the fallen and a song of praise for the victory won. Without, in the court of the monastery, the military band played the poem written by Th. Körner, and composed by Hummel—“Father I call to Thee.” On undertaking the government the King had chosen this as the prayer of the army, and since then it is regularly played on great occasions.
At the close of the service the troops defiled before the King. Then they marched in a long procession through the splendid beech and fir woods to a height which commanded a view over the whole valley. There the camp of tents was erected. Before a triumphal arch the Mayor presented the Queen with a bouquet of roses in the name of the battalion of Chasseurs, and to the sound of the National Hymn the royal pair proceeded to the middle of the camp. Here stood two tents, one arranged for the royal banquet, the other for the soldiers. The royal tent was decorated with the innate taste of the Roumanians for the beautiful. From the outside only green branches and ferns were to be seen, amidst which the entwined initials of the royal pair appeared. Within, the tent was ornamented with some of the Queen’s mottoes which related to a soldier’s life and heroic deeds, and which the officers had translated into Roumanian. There were also verses by the poet Alexandri, who had written them when the people were under arms. Amongst them appeared the names of the Roumanians who had fallen whilst storming the fort of Grivitza. Martial music was played during the repast, and a crowd of people in the beautiful costume of the country surrounded the tents. At a given signal the joyous strains ceased, and the soldiers stood before the tent of their King.
Amidst perfect silence, and in a voice which was heard from far, the King harangued his Chasseurs as to the meaning and the fame of this ever-memorable day, and ended with the words—
“Hold fast the sacred tradition of 1877, so as always to be worthy of the great distinctions which you owe to your brave brothers in arms. I raise my glass to drink to the health of the army, and to the memory of the fallen heroes of Grivitza.” Enthusiastic hurrahs and the braying of trumpets awoke the echoes of the hills. Then the King rose again to wreathe the flag in the name of the Queen, and said—“This garland of flowers the Queen dedicates to the flag torn with bullets and blackened with the smoke of the powder, around which the remnants of the battalion crowded in the hour of danger and pressed on to victory!”
The banquet had ended. The King surrounded by his soldiers, and the Queen by children, went from tent to tent, giving all a kind word or a smile. Then gipsy music suddenly resounded, and as if by magic the crowd arranged itself hand in hand for the famous dance of the Hora, this celebrated national dance of the Roumanians. The royal pair placed themselves in the middle of the circle formed by soldiers, peasants, and ladies and gentlemen. It was soon extended to such a length that a second circle of dancing children formed itself round the Queen. At first the Hora moved slowly and with stately grace, but when the gipsies sang the Kindia, when the violins, pipes, mandolins, and tambourines sounded louder and quicker, the circle was broken, and the people flew up and down in long rows. They surged to the right and to the left, backwards and forwards, without pausing, and with breathless speed. They were all in the highest spirits, but their joy was kept within bounds. There was no disorder, and only joyous sounds resounded in the hills.
At sunset the royal pair returned to the castle. A thousand voices cheered them as they descended the height, and sounded on and on when their figures had long been lost in the gloom of the forest. Soon the braying of trumpets was heard in the still side valley of the Prahova, where the beautiful castle of the King stands near the foaming Pelesch. One torch after another appeared in the dark fir woods. Then the procession of torches came up the sides of the hill and stood before the castle, which, being at this moment illuminated with Bengal lights, shone like a fairy palace in the dark night, the royal pair appearing in the glorious light. The military bands sounded grand amongst those mighty mountains. The performance of the battle prayer was the close of this patriotic fête. The torch-bearers gradually disappeared into the shades of the forest. Deep silence surrounded the castle, and broad shadows overspread the forest and mountains. Night stretched her dreamy wings, over the landscape which had so lately been peopled by a gay throng.
A few weeks later the royal pair left their castle in the Carpathians and travelled to Sigmaringen. Prince Charles Anthony of Hohenzollern and his consort, born a Princess of Baden, the parents of the King of Roumania, celebrated their golden wedding there on the 21st of October. All their children and grandchildren surrounded the venerable pair. The Emperor William heightened the brilliancy of this extraordinary festivity by his presence, to which nearly all the Princes of Germany had assembled themselves in the castle of the Hohenzollern. Numerous deputations brought artistically executed congratulatory addresses, presents, and poems. They were all tokens of sincere and grateful veneration, for the whole of Germany had taken a lively interest in the happiness of the princely pair.
But to this joy soon succeeded the sorrow at the death of Prince Charles Anthony of Hohenzollern. After much suffering a sort of apoplectic fit had seized him. His condition became worse, his weakness increased, and he lost consciousness. Surrounded by his children and the faithful partner of his life, he passed away on the 2nd of June 1885, without a struggle. During the sad days when the Prince was slowly dying, the Queen of Roumania had been “a true angel of consolation,” as she expressed it, to her mother-in-law, the now widowed Princess Josephine. Queen Elizabeth had watched and prayed with her at the deathbed of the Prince during the first night, and had undertaken for her the numerous labours of love which in such days have such claims on heart and time.
It was a historic moment when, on the morning of the 6th of June, the mourning procession, headed by the then Crown Prince of the German Empire, started from the castle to the tomb of their ancestors, in which the mortal remains of the last reigning Prince of Hohenzollern-Sigmaringen were laid to rest. He belonged to the most distinguished and meritorious men of his time, whose influence the grateful German Fatherland will not forget.
But not alone the family lost a beloved centre in the noble German Prince. The Emperor William bewailed in him the trusted friend of many years, who had stood faithfully at his side in times of difficulty and danger. Prince Charles Anthony had made the first step towards the union of Germany. Having realised with great political insight during the occurrences of 1848 that the position of the little states was untenable, he willingly renounced the sovereignty of his Hohenzollern lands. He handed his principality over to the head of the Prussian branch of his house, and forthwith, as the first German subject, worked with great unselfishness and conscientiousness to help on the power and greatness of Germany. Prussia’s territory now extended to the south of Germany. As a memento of this deed, Frederick William IV. founded the Order of Hohenzollern, with the inscription, “Vom Fels zum Meer” (From the Rock to the Sea).