CHAPTER V

Roumania’s capital--A garden city--Modesty on the trams--“A town of one street, one church, and one idea”--The Calea Victorie--Two hundred churches--The church of Doamna Balash--English customs gaining headway--The houses of Bucarest--Afternoon calls and refreshments--The fortifications.

Bucarest is situated on a marshy plain, a fact accounting for the malaria which so often attacks foreigners, as well as the inhabitants. It is an irregularly built town on the river Dimbovitza. When I first went there the town was very badly paved with rough cobble-stones, and it was highly disagreeable to go through the Calea Victorie, as the constant rumbling of the traffic over these stones effectually prevented any attempt at conversation. That is all changed now since wood-paving has been introduced.

The town is well lighted, in some streets incandescent lamps being used, whilst electricity is employed on the Boulevard and the Chaussée.

The Boulevard, planted on both sides with trees, divides the town into two parts. It is a fine wide thoroughfare, and runs from the neighbourhood of the Palace at Cotroceni, right up to the Calea Moșilor, which it meets at right angles.

The best view of the town is from the hill on which the Metropolitan Church stands. Seen from there it is very picturesque--the houses of the better class standing in gardens, in some cases of a fairly good size.

Numerous small public gardens, the largest called Cismegiu, and the drive known as the Chaussée, greatly contribute to the garden-like appearance of the town.

There is a very effective tram service in Bucarest, which was started some years ago by an English company. At first two-deckers were used, somewhat after the fashion of our own English trams; but that did not suit the authorities of the town. The idea of women climbing up to such elevated seats shocked them to such an extent that an order was issued forbidding the feminine use of the overhead seats. These trams were then withdrawn, and others of a more modest appearance and characteristics substituted. An electric tram now runs on the Boulevard. What a commotion there was when it was first instituted! People were afraid to trust themselves on it--they feared electrocution most probably; but by degrees that feeling of fear was dissipated, and now the electric tram is as much used as the other. And now, I have just learnt, motor omnibuses have been adopted. I am glad to have been spared that innovation.

Bucarest has been described as a town of one street, one church, and one idea. The aphorism is to some extent justified, for the Calea Victorie is practically Bucarest, the Greek Church knows no dissenters, and the prevailing idea is the spending of money.

Calea Victorie is a very long street. It leads from the Dimbovitza to the Chaussée (the fashionable afternoon resort of the Bucarestois), and it is essentially _the_ street. All the principal buildings, as well as the Royal Palace, are situated in the Calea Victorie, and it is the daily lounge of the _élite_ of the town.

It is a cosmopolitan crowd that one encounters on the Calea Victorie: society ladies in elegant costumes, dapper little Frenchmen belonging to the Embassy, Roumanian officers in varied uniforms, handsome Turks with the fez set jauntily on their heads, Armenians with full short skirts and very curious headgear, and many others.

Churches are a great feature of the town--there are, I should think, over two hundred in Bucarest. The Metropole is, of course, the Cathedral, where all ceremonial services are held. St Spiridon is a fine large building, but its beauty has been diminished of late years owing to the fact that the beautiful crosses and chains with which it was formerly ornamented were found too heavy for the roof and had to be removed. In this church many of the fashionable weddings take place.

Of the more modern churches Doamna Balash, founded by the Brancovan family, is decidedly the most beautiful. It stands in a well-laid-out garden, in which are beds of most lovely flowers that form at the same time a fitting setting for the statue of the foundress, Doamna Balash. The statue is very fine, the pose of the figure extremely graceful, whilst the drapery is also a work of art.

The interior of the church is gorgeous indeed, quite Eastern in its rich ornamentation. The exquisite reredos, the beautiful stained-glass windows, the ornamented candelabrum that hangs in the centre, the rich colours of the carpets that cover the floor, combine to make a picture that cannot be surpassed. During a service the effect is enhanced by the splendid robes and head-dresses of the officiating priests.

Attached to the church is a school, and also almshouses for the aged.

The Brancovan Hospital, which is at the back of the church and is considered amongst the best in the town, is one of a group of four buildings which were erected by the family Brancovan, descendants of a reigning prince of former times.

Life in Bucarest is very agreeable, especially for foreigners, and more particularly for the English, who are looked up to and admired by the Roumanians. Many of our customs have been adopted in recent years, and English, which had long been making headway, has gained so enormously since the war that it will probably soon take the place of French as the polite language of the country. It is curious that with the better-class Roumanians it has become more fashionable than their own language. If one enters a drawing-room, a shop, or even a very intimate family circle, English or French will be heard, very seldom Roumanian--which language is usually left to the servants.

Roumanian houses are generally built with the side to the street, and consist of only one story, on account of the frequent earthquakes.

On entering the house, one finds oneself in a large vestibule sometimes lighted from above by artificial means. This is _really_ a vestibule, but is very often used as a sitting-room by the family. All the other rooms open out of this circular chamber. This is a convenient arrangement for heating purposes, as there is always a large stove in the vestibule, and when the doors of the adjacent rooms are left open an agreeable warmth pervades the house.

There is, besides, a porcelain stove in each room for use in severe weather, as Roumanians are very fond of well-warmed rooms. In the vestibule coal or coke is used, but wood in all the other rooms.

Double windows are always used in winter; but as spring comes on the outer one is exchanged for one of wire-netting, which allows the free passage of air, but keeps out the flies, which are generally troublesome.

Roumania is a breakfastless country. Some people drink a cup of black coffee or take a “dulceata,” others have nothing at all till lunch-time. Lunch and dinner are very substantial meals consisting of several courses--the French cuisine being adopted in all the better-class families.

When one pays an afternoon visit for the first time, one is rather astonished at the form the refreshment takes. When salutations have been exchanged and conversation is in full swing, or otherwise, the door opens and a maid appears with a large tray. On it are arranged small glass plates with a spoonful of jam on each, and a glass of water for each person. The visitor, if a foreigner, is generally puzzled as to what is expected of her, but upon observing her neighbours she sees that the spoonful of jam, “dulceata” (pronounced dulchatza) as it is called, is solemnly swallowed, then washed down by a draught of cold water. One must be careful not to do as a friend of mine did on a first visit. Never having seen such refreshment, she calmly mixed the spoonful of jam in the water and valiantly swallowed the dose, to the consternation of the Roumanians present.

Most people have heard in recent sad days of the wonderful fortifications of Bucarest, which were designed by a Belgian and constructed at a cost of £4,000,000. The city was thus well protected by outworks, which made it the largest fortified camp in the world, with the exception of Paris.