07 nov. 2012

 

Speech of His Royal Highness Prince Radu of Romania

The Worshipful Company of the Wax Chandlers‘ Hall

London, 7 November 2012

 

 

Your Majesty,

Your Royal Highness,

Your Excellencies,

My Lords,

Ladies and Gentlemen,

 

King Michael has been giving us Romanians quite a hard time lately. Over the last twelve months, we have been the astounded witnesses to a number of world records in the history of leadership: a King celebrating his ninetieth birthday is by no means a common event, but a King celebrating the eighty-fifth anniversary of his accession to the Throne is virtually unheard of. And the fact that, after almost seventy years, he is the last surviving Head of State to have led his country and Armed Forces during the Second World War is even more extraordinary still.

 

Precisely here, in Britain, King Michael is the holder of a number of incredible records: he is one of the few people still alive today to have represented his country at the Coronation of King George VI, in 1937. His Majesty was also present at the wedding of The Queen in 1947, the wedding of the Prince of Wales in 1981, the Golden and Diamond Weddings of the Queen in 1997 and 2007, and the wedding of Prince William in 2011. The King of Romania is perhaps the only person alive to have given Her Majesty the Queen, as an official gift on the occasion of her father’s Coronation, a doll.

 

Certainly, it is worth mentioning that we are here today to celebrate the 75th anniversary His Majesty’s being awarded the Grand Cross of the Royal Victorian Order.

 

Your Majesty, you became King 85 years ago. Even the most obdurate republican would have to acknowledge that you have greater seniority in this position than anybody else on earth. You became Marshal of the Romanian Armed Forces at the age of 19 and overthrew the pro-Nazi Marshal Antonescu when you were 22. As a result, you were awarded the United States’ Legion of Merit, with the rank of Chief Commander, the Soviet Union’s Order of Victory, the British Grand Cross of the Royal Victorian Order, and the French Grand Cross of the Legion d’Honneur.

 

You are also the only Head of State who has had to work as a farmer and carpenter to support your family, and one of the few who has worked as a test pilot. In your years of exile in Switzerland, not only you did receive ordinary Romanians, but also, on occasion, you repaired their motorcars at the end of their audience, if required.

 

You have outlived your enemies and, which is even more unusual, you have outlived your enemies’ children. In Bucharest today, your dressing room is the same room where, some 65 years ago, Petru Groza and Gheorghiu-Dej, the Communist Prime Minister and the Party Chairman, forced you to sign the act of abdication that you subsequently denounced on arriving in London. And the Elisabeta Palace, the home you were forced to leave in 1947, is today your official residence in Bucharest, granted by the Romanian Parliament in the year 2001.

 

You met Hitler and Mussolini in person. But you also met Harry Truman and Winston Churchill, and on occasion you had the courage not to follow their advice, despite their being as old as your grandfather. You have lived through a dispiriting exile, during which you were dismayed not only by your enemies but also your friends. You preceded your father to the Throne, and then you succeeded him.

 

You turned down advantageous financial proposals from foreign Governments, simply because your moral principles would not have allowed it. You are still serene and patient, although you ought to have many reasons to be bitter and angry. You often quote your uncle, King Paul of the Hellenes: “Trust every single person around you, but expect every moment to be betrayed”. I recall a public visit somewhere in Romania, twelve years ago, in the company of some very officious and raucous politicians of the time. Somebody in the crowd, carrying a child on his shoulders, said: “Your Majesty, we love everything about you, even your silence”.

 

You have been steadfast in your convictions from a very early age. Once, when an Orthodox priest tried to offer you a glass of communion wine at the end of the Mass, you answered with six-year-old solemnity: “Thank you, I never drink wine in the morning”!

 

But Romania needs your example in the present and in the future. The latest polls show an amazing percentage of trust, love and admiration on the part of Romanian society for you and for the Royal House. And, looking at the longevity of your British cousins, I am sure that we will meet in the Savoy Chapel again in 10 years time, if the Crown Princess and I manage to keep in shape.

 

We have an expression in the Romanian language which we use when wishing one many happy returns. It has Latin roots and it is: La multi ani!