CHAPTER XX

The French colony--An outspoken abbé--The German colony--Its schools, churches, and hospitals--A split in the camp of deaconesses--Teaching or nursing?--A well-conducted hospital--Roumanian hospitals--An eminent surgeon, Dr Thomas Jonescu--An erratic American dentist--His exclusive practice--Leaves a Prince waiting with open mouth whilst he goes on a trip to Sinaia.

The French are fairly well represented in Roumania, and they possess a very fine church in one of the best streets in Bucarest, which is called “The Cathedral.” The Bishop’s name was Hornstein, which seemed to me to sound rather more like Jerusalem than Paris. Every year, in the month of May, a priest came from Paris to hold a kind of mission. For two consecutive years this duty devolved upon a certain abbé, who aroused great interest in the town. He was a very short man of rather insignificant appearance, but very clever, and decidedly outspoken in his utterances. The hour of service was 5 p.m., and woe betide the unlucky worshipper who arrived late. The abbé would stop, fix his eyes on the latecomer, and then very coldly point him or her--generally the latter--to a vacant seat. When quiet was restored, he would resume his discourse. His methods and style aroused the curiosity of the people, who flocked in hundreds to hear him. The Cathedral was always packed, French, Roumanians, English all being represented. At first the Roumanians, who are noted for their unpunctuality, were late for the service, but after one or two experiences they were careful to come in time. All the little weaknesses of modern society, such as love of dress, extravagance, the rush after amusements, were exposed and criticised unmercifully. People never seemed to resent his outspoken utterances, although in many cases his words must have gone home.

The French have also some schools, but they are mostly convent schools, the teachers being monks or nuns.

The best-known French school in Bucarest is the “Dames de Sion,” the instruction given there being of a high order, the French language naturally being predominant. The school is not only attended by French children; Roumanians who cannot afford to send their offspring to Paris, often taking advantage of it.

I knew some girls who went to the “Dames de Sion,” and very curious stories they used to relate about the greed for money displayed by the nuns. For example, if a larger table were required in one of the class-rooms, each pupil would be asked to bring a certain sum of money to defray the cost. Constant requests were made to the pupils for small sums to be used for the decoration of the chapel. A small statue was required for this niche, a picture for another; and as for flowers for the altar, they were _always_ needed.

This procedure caused a good deal of discontent, as Roumanians did not see why they should be called upon to provide decorations for a chapel that had no connection with their Church.

The expulsion of monks and nuns from France caused a great influx of both into Roumania, just as it did, unfortunately, into our own country, so that more convent schools are now scattered throughout the country than was formerly the case.

I used to visit one of the convents, as there was an Irish nun there who attracted me very much. This convent was called “Die engelische Damen.” Since returning to England I have been much amused by a description I read somewhere of this same convent. The sapient writer announced that it derived its name from the fact that it was founded by some English ladies in bygone times. Of course, the German name, which, curiously enough, it has always borne, means “The Angel Ladies.”

Of all the foreign colonies established in Roumania the German was, before the war, the largest. It had schools, churches, and hospitals, and the trade carried on was considerable. There was a very large girls’ school in Bucarest, where German, French, and English were taught. The children were not only well taught but well trained. The German love of order and discipline was observable in every department. This establishment formed a striking contrast to the Roumanian schools, where a good deal of _laissez-aller_ prevails.

Examinations were held once a year, twenty minutes only being allowed for each subject. Germans do not consider examinations a great test of children’s knowledge; they trust more to their progress during the year.

The school was under the control of the deaconesses, who undertook the teaching of the German language, being at the same time nursing sisters. They came from Kaiserswerth, a large training college and nursing establishment on the Rhine, in which, by the way, our own Florence Nightingale gained some of her earlier experience.

At first a very large contingent of deaconesses was sent to Bucarest, but some years ago there was a split in the camp. The dispute was as to whether the teaching or the nursing should predominate. In the end, it was decided that half the number of deaconesses should remain at the school, concentrating all their energies on teaching, whilst the other half should open a hospital and devote their time and energy entirely to the care of the sick.

Sister Ida, who was at the head of the nursing establishment, was a very clever woman, with a wonderful power of organisation. Energetic to a degree, she never rested till she succeeded in opening the hospital, equipped with every modern convenience. A small chapel was attached, where their own German pastor officiated, so that the sisters were not under the necessity of attending the principal German church.

I was rather amused, whilst the dispute referred to was at its height, to have one of the nursing sisters remark to me, “Fancy! the only concession that we can wrest from the other side is, that when we die we may be buried in their cemetery!” It seemed to me rather meagre comfort.

The boys’ school was also well attended. It was run on strictly German lines, and was under the supervision of the German pastor. The church, which was close to the school, was quite a fine building, standing a little back from the street. It was a typical German church in its simplicity, severe to the last degree, till Queen Elizabeth conceived the fantastic idea of decorating it, and thereby turned it into a building strongly resembling a Jewish synagogue. When I entered it for the first time after it had been decorated I could scarcely believe my eyes. Was this the German church? I asked myself. Galleries, pillars, and pulpit were hung with crimson velvet on which were texts of scripture in gilt German characters! giving the whole church a tawdry as well as a decidedly Jewish appearance.

A true German church is simplicity itself, so that the contrast struck me immediately. How an artistic woman, as Queen Elizabeth undoubtedly was, could perpetrate such an outrage upon good taste passed my comprehension.

The hospital, situated at some distance from the town, equipped, as I have said, with every modern convenience, was a boon to all foreigners. There was better nursing to be had there than in the Roumanian hospitals, as all the sisters were well trained. The hospital was visited by both Roumanian and German doctors; in fact, an inmate could have any doctor he wished to call in.

The food was very good, and plenty of milk was always to be had. Buffalo milk, by the way, is very much used in Roumania; and although at first one finds it very rich, still, after becoming accustomed to it, cow’s milk seems poor in comparison.

One thing I have noticed abroad (this is also by the way) which seems to me worthy of imitation in England. It is that milk is always boiled. No one thinks of drinking milk without having it boiled first. As milk carries infection so readily, this seems to me a necessary precaution.

The Roumanian hospitals cannot be held up as a pattern to other countries, as, in regard to nursing, they are very much behind-hand. Trained nurses are unknown. Any woman who applies may be engaged as “nurse”--the only stipulation being that she must don cap and apron for the arrival of the visiting doctors, or for an operation. During the rest of the day she may wear what she likes. These attendants, for they are no more, seldom master even the first rudiments of nursing.

The manager or director of the hospital (not necessarily a doctor) is allowed so much a head for the feeding of the patients. If he can contrive to do it economically, the surplus goes, of course, into his own pocket.

I went to see a sick friend in the largest hospital in Bucarest, and the food that I saw for distribution in the wards was of very inferior quality. My friend, who had a private room, had everything sent to her from outside, the medical student who looked in from time to time advising her not even to drink the milk provided; presumably it was too well watered.

The one redeeming feature of the hospitals is that they are quite free. No matter of what nationality you are, you will be attended (and nursed after a fashion) quite free of charge. If a patient has a little interest, or knows anyone who will speak for him, he may even be allotted a private room.

The peasants, who have never had any pampering, are often quite happy and contented with their treatment at the hospital, and leave the place with regret.

The inefficiency of the hospital nurses is all the more remarkable when one remembers the high qualifications and great skill of the physicians and surgeons of Roumania.

The most eminent surgeon in Bucarest is Prof. Thomas Jonescu, brother of M. Take Jonescu. Though not the actual inventor of the anæsthetic stovaine, it was he who discovered the almost miraculous power obtained by the addition of strychnia. This wonderful compound, applied locally, absolutely deprives the patient of sensation in the region to be operated upon. I heard Prof. Jonescu once declare that he had cut off a leg whilst the subject of the operation calmly looked on and made remarks about the performance.

Everyone who has lived in Bucarest has known or heard stories of the remarkable American dentist Dr Y----. He was of an extremely taciturn disposition, very erratic in his ways and with few intimate friends. Notwithstanding his peculiarities, he had the names of the best families in Roumania on his books, including the late Queen, whose confidence he enjoyed for many years. Probably it was on this account that he was so very careful as to new patients. One year he went away for a holiday, and, on returning, his assistant, who had not been long in his service, or indeed in Bucarest, proudly showed him the list of new patients he had gained. Dr Y---- took the list, looked through it silently, and then with his pencil calmly struck out name after name till very few were left on the sheet. He returned the list to the astonished assistant with the remark, “I do not attend such people.”

One of his patients was Prince G----, who died some years ago. An experience of his with Dr Y---- caused great amusement, and it _was_ rather amusing--to others. At the hour appointed by the doctor, Prince G---- arrived and took his place in the operating chair. After working for some minutes, the doctor, with a muttered apology, left the room, leaving Prince G----, with his mouth open, momentarily expecting his return. As time passed and the doctor did not reappear, the Prince became impatient and rang the bell. What was his amazement to learn from the servant that Doctor Y---- had left for Sinaia!

In spite of his peculiar ways, Dr Y---- is remembered with pleasure by many people. For one thing, he made the best plum puddings I ever tasted! At Christmas time he made a number of these puddings and distributed them among the families of his friends and acquaintances.