WHAT THE PEACE-MAKERS HAVE DONE ON THE DANUBE
When I called upon M. Bratianu, the Prime Minister of Rumania, who was
in Paris as a delegate to the Peace Conference, I opened the
conversation by innocently remarking that I proposed to spend some weeks
in his country during my travels in the Balkans. But I got no further,
for M. Bratianu, whose tremendous shoulders and bristling black beard
make him appear even larger than he is, sprang to his feet and brought
his fist crashing down upon the table.
"You ought to know better than that, Major Powell," he angrily
exclaimed. "Rumania is not in the Balkans and never has been. We object
to being called a Balkan people."
I apologized for my slip, of course, and amicable relations were
resumed, but I mention the incident as an illustration of how deeply
the Rumanians resent the inclusion of their country in that group of
turbulent kingdoms which compose what some one has aptly called the
Cockpit of Europe. The Rumanians are as sensitive in this respect as are
the haughty and aristocratic Creoles, inordinately proud of their French
or Spanish ancestry, when some ignorant Northerner remarks that he had
always supposed that Creoles were part negro. Not only is Rumania not
one of the Balkan states, geographically speaking, but the Rumanians'
idea of their country's importance has been enormously increased as a
result of its recent territorial acquisitions, which have made it the
sixth largest country in Europe, with an area very nearly equal to that
of Italy and with a population three-fourths that of Spain. You were not
aware, perhaps, that the width of Greater Rumania, from east to west, is
as great as the width of France from the English Channel to the
Mediterranean. One has to break into a run to keep pace with the march
of geography these days.
Owing to the demoralization prevailing in Thrace and Bulgaria, railway
communications between Constantinople and the Rumanian frontier were so
disorganized that we decided to travel by steamer to Constantza, taking
the railway thence to Bucharest. Before the war the Royal Rumanian mail
steamer _Carol I_ was as trim and luxuriously fitted a vessel as one
could have found in Levantine waters. For more than a year, however, she
was in the hands of the Bolsheviks, so that when we boarded her her
sides were red with rust, her cabins had been stripped of everything
which could be carried away, and the straw-filled mattresses, each
covered with a dubious-looking blanket, were as full of unwelcome
occupants as the Black Sea was of floating mines.
[Illustration: THE RED BADGE OF MERCY IN THE BALKANS
American Red Cross women supplying food to a ship-load of starving
Russian refugees at Constantza, Rumania]
Constantza, the chief port of Rumania, is superbly situated on a
headland overlooking the Black Sea. It has an excellent harbor, bordered
on one side by a number of large grain elevators and on the other by a
row of enormous petroleum tanks--the latter the property of an American
corporation; a mile or so of asphalted streets, several surprisingly
fine public buildings, and, on the beautifully terraced and landscaped
waterfront, an imposing but rather ornate casino and many luxurious
summer villas, most of which were badly damaged when the city was
bombarded by the Bulgars. Constantza is a favorite seaside resort for
Bucharest society and during the season its _plage_ is thronged with
summer visitors dressed in the height of the Paris fashion. From atop
his marble pedestal in the city's principal square a statue of the Roman
poet Ovid, who lived here in exile for many years, looks quizzically
down upon the light-hearted throng.
It is in the neighborhood of 150 miles by railway from Constantza to
Bucharest and before the war the Orient Express used to make the journey
in less than four hours. Now it takes between twenty and thirty. We made
a record trip, for our train left Constantza at four o'clock in the
morning and pulled into Bucharest shortly before midnight. It is only
fair to explain, however, that the length of time consumed in the
journey was due to the fact that the bridge across the Danube near
Tchernavoda, which was blown up by the Bulgars, had not been repaired,
thus necessitating the transfer of the passengers and their luggage
across the river on flat-boats, a proceeding which required several
hours and was marked by the wildest confusion. So few trains are
running in the Balkans that there are never enough, or nearly enough,
seats to accommodate all the passengers, so that fully as many ride on
the roofs of the coaches as inside. This has the advantage, in the eyes
of the passengers, of making it impracticable for the conductor to
collect the fares, but it also has certain disadvantages. During our
trip from Constantza to Bucharest three roof passengers rolled off and
were killed.
As a result of the lengthy occupation of the city by the Austro-Germans,
and their systematic removal of machinery and industrial material of
every description, everything is out of order in Bucharest. Water,
electric lights, gas, telephones, elevators, street-cars "_ne marche
pas_." Though we had a large and beautifully furnished room in the
Palace Hotel we had to climb three flights of stairs to reach it, the
light was furnished by candles, the water for the bathroom was brought
in buckets, and, as the Germans had removed the wires of the
house-telephones, we had to go into the hall and shout when we required
a servant. Yet the almost total lack of conveniences does not deter the
hotels from making the most exorbitant charges. Bucharest has always
been an expensive city but to-day the prices are fantastic. At Capsa's,
which is the most fashionable restaurant, it is difficult to get even a
modest lunch for two for less than twelve dollars. But, notwithstanding
the destruction of the nation's chief source of wealth, its oil wells,
by the Rumanians themselves, in order to prevent their use by the enemy,
and the systematic looting of the country by the invaders, there seems
to be no lack of money in Bucharest, for the restaurants are filled to
the doors nightly, there is a constant fusillade of champagne corks, and
in the various gardens, all of which have cabaret performances, the
popular dancers are showered with silver and notes. In fact, a customary
evening in Bucharest is not very far removed, in its gaiety and abandon,
from a New Year's Eve celebration in New York. Not even Paris can offer
a gayer night life than the Rumanian capital, for at the Jockey Club it
is no uncommon thing for 10,000 francs to change hands on the turn of a
card or a whirl of the roulette wheel; out the Chaussée Kisselew, at the
White City, the dance floor is crowded until daybreak with slender,
rather effeminate-looking officers in beautiful uniforms of green or
pale blue and superbly gowned and bejewelled women. Indeed, I doubt if
there is any city of its size in the world on whose streets one sees so
many _chic_ and beautiful women, though I might add that their jewels
are generally of a higher quality than their morals. As long as these
bewitching beauties behave themselves they are not molested by the
police, who seem to have an arrangement with the hotel managements
looking toward their control. When Mrs. Powell and I arrived at our
hotel the proprietor asked us for our passports, which, he explained,
must be viséd by the police. The following morning my passport was
returned alone.
"But where is my wife's passport?" I demanded, for in Southern Europe in
these days it is impossible to travel even short distances without one's
papers.
"But M'sieu must know that we always retain the lady's passport until he
leaves," said the proprietor, with a knowing smile. "Then, should she
disappear with M'sieu's watch, or his money, or his jewels, she will not
be able to leave the city and the police can quickly arrest her. Yes,
it is the custom here. A neat idea, _hein_?"
Though I succeeded in obtaining the return of Mrs. Powell's passport I
am not at all certain that I succeeded in entirely convincing the
_hôtelier_ that she really was my wife.
Rumania is at present passing through a period of transition. Not only
have the area and population of the country been more than doubled, but
the war has changed all other conditions and the new forms of national
life are still unsettled. In the summer of 1918 even the most optimistic
Rumanians doubted if the nation would emerge from the war with more than
a fraction of its former territory, yet to-day, as a result of the
acquisition of Transylvania, Bessarabia and the eastern half of the
Banat, the country's population has risen from seven to fourteen
millions and its area from 50,000 to more than 100,000 square miles. The
new conditions have brought new laws. Of these the most revolutionary is
the law which forbids landowners to retain more than 1,000 acres of
their land, the government taking over and paying for the residue, which
is given to the peasants to cultivate. As a result of this policy,
there have been practically no strikes or labor troubles in Rumania,
for, now that most of their demands have been conceded, the Rumanian
peasants seem willing to seek their welfare in work instead of
Bolshevism. Heretofore the Jews, though liable to military service, have
not been permitted a voice in the government of their country, but, as a
result of recent legislation, they have now been granted full civil
rights, though whether they will be permitted to exercise them is
another question. The Jews, who number upwards of a quarter of a
million, have a strangle hold on the finances of the country and they
must not be permitted, the Rumanians insist, to get a similar grip on
the nation's politics. It is only very recently, indeed, that Rumanian
Jews have been granted passports, which meant that only those rich
enough to obtain papers by bribery could enter or leave the country. The
Rumanians with whom I discussed the question said quite frankly that the
legislation granting suffrage to the Jews would probably be observed
very much as the Constitutional Amendment granting suffrage to the
negroes is observed in our own South.
The truth of the matter is that Rumania is in the hands of a clique of
selfish and utterly unscrupulous politicians who have grown rich from
their systematic exploitation of the national resources. Every bank and
nearly every commercial enterprise of importance is in their hands. One
of the present ministers entered the cabinet a poor man; to-day he is
reputed to be worth twenty millions. Anything can be purchased in
Rumania--passports, exemption from military service, cabinet portfolios,
commercial concessions--if you have the money to pay for it. The fingers
of Rumanian officials are as sticky as those of the Turks. An officer of
the American Relief Administration told me that barely sixty per cent,
of the supplies sent from the United States for the relief of the
Rumanian peasantry ever reached those for whom they were intended; the
other forty per cent, was kept by various officials. To find a parallel
for the political corruption which exists throughout Rumania it is
necessary to go back to New York under the Tweed administration or to
Mexico under the Diaz régime.
From a wealthy Hungarian landowner, with whom I traveled from Bucharest
to the frontier of Jugoslavia, I obtained a graphic idea of what can be
accomplished by money in Rumania. This young Hungarian, who had been
educated in England and spoke with a Cambridge accent, possessed large
estates in northeastern Hungary. After four years' service as an officer
of cavalry he was demobilized upon the signing of the Armistice. When
the revolution led by Bela Kun broke out in Budapest he escaped from
that city on foot, only to be arrested by the Rumanians as he was
crossing the Rumanian frontier. Fortunately for him, he had ample funds
in his possession, obtained from the sale of the cattle on his estate,
so that he was able to purchase his freedom after spending only three
days in jail. But his release did not materially improve his situation,
for he had no passport and, as Hungary was then under Bolshevist rule,
he was unable to obtain one. And he realized that without a passport it
would be impossible for him to join his wife and children, who were
awaiting him in Switzerland. As luck would have it, however, he was
slightly acquainted with the prefect of a small town in
Transylvania--for obvious reasons I shall not mention its name--which he
finally reached after great difficulty, traveling by night and lying
hidden by day so as to avoid being halted and questioned by the Rumanian
patrols. By paying the prefect 1,000 francs and giving him and his
friends a dinner at the local hotel, he obtained a certificate stating
that he was a citizen of the town and in good standing with the local
authorities. Armed with this document, which was sufficient to convince
inquisitive border officials of his Rumanian nationality, he took train
for Bucharest, where he spent five weeks dickering for a Rumanian
passport which would enable him to leave the country. Including the
bribes and entertainments which he gave to officials, and gifts of one
sort and another to minor functionaries, it cost him something over
25,000 francs to obtain a passport duly viséd for Switzerland. But my
friend's anxieties did not end there, for a Rumanian leaving the country
was not permitted to take more than 1,000 francs in currency with him,
those suspected of having in their possession funds in excess of this
amount being subjected to a careful search at the frontier. My friend
had with him, however, something over 500,000 francs, all that he had
been able to realize from his estates. How to get this sum out of the
country was a perplexing problem, but he finally solved it by concealing
the notes, which were of large denomination, in the bottom of a box of
expensive face powder, which, he explained to the officials at the
frontier, he was taking as a present to his wife. When the train drew
into the first Serbian station and he realized that he was beyond the
reach of pursuit, he capered up and down the platform like a small boy
when school closes for the long vacation.
Considerable astonishment seems to have been manifested by the American
press and public at the disinclination of Rumania and Jugoslavia to sign
the treaty with Austria without reservations. Yet this should scarcely
occasion surprise, for the attitude of the great among the Allies toward
the smaller brethren who helped them along the road to victory has been
at times blameworthy, often inexplicable, and on frequent occasions
arrogant and tactless. At the outset of the Peace Conference some
endeavor was made to live up to the promises so loudly made that
henceforth the rights of the weak were to receive as much attention as
those of the strong. Commissions were formed to study various aspects of
the questions involved in the peace and upon these the representatives
of the smaller nations were given seats. But this did not last long.
Within a month Messrs. Wilson, Lloyd-George, Clémenceau and Orlando had
made themselves virtually the dictators of the Peace Conference,
deciding behind closed doors matters of vital moment to the national
welfare of the small states without so much as taking them into
consultation. Prime Minister Bratianu, who went to Paris as the head of
the Rumanian peace delegation, told me, his voice hoarse with
indignation, that the "Big Four," in settling Rumania's future
boundaries, had not only not consulted him but that he had not even been
informed of the terms decided upon. "They hand us a fountain pen and say
'Sign here,'" the Premier exclaimed, "and then they are surprised if we
refuse to affix our signatures to a document which vitally concerns our
national future but about which we have never been consulted."
We Americans, of all peoples, should realize that a small nation is as
jealous of its independence as a large one. As a matter of fact, Rumania
and her sister-states of Southeastern Europe, who still bear the scars
of Turkish oppression, are super-sensitive in this respect, the fact
that they have so often been the victims of intriguing neighbors making
them more than ordinarily suspicious and resentful toward any action
which tends to limit their mastery of their own households. Hence they
regard that clause of the Treaty of St. Germain providing for the
protection of ethnical minorities with an indignation which cannot
easily be appreciated by the Western nations. The boundaries of the new
and aggrandized states of Southeastern Europe will necessarily include
alien minorities--this cannot be avoided--and the Peace Conference held
that the welfare of such minorities must be the special concern of the
League of Nations. Take the case of Rumania, for example. In order to
unite her people she must annex some compact masses of aliens which, in
certain cases at least, have been deliberately planted within
ethnological frontiers for a specific purpose. The settlements of
Magyars in Transylvania, who, under Hungarian rule, were permitted to
exploit their Rumanian neighbors without let or hindrance, will not
willingly surrender the privileges they have so long enjoyed and submit
to a régime of strict justice and equality. On the other hand, Rumania
can scarcely be expected to agree to an arrangement which would not only
impair her sovereignty but would almost certainly encourage intrigue and
unrest among these alien minorities. How would the United States regard
a proposal to submit its administration of the Philippines to
international control? How would England like the League of Nations to
take a hand in the government of Ireland? That, briefly stated, is the
reason why both Rumania and Jugoslavia objected so strongly to the
inclusion of the so-called racial minorities clause in the Treaty of St.
Germain. Looking at the other side of the question, it Is easy to
understand the solicitude which the treaty-makers at Paris displayed for
the thousands of Magyars, Serbs and Bulgars who, without so much as a
by-your-leave, they have placed under Rumanian rule. No less authority
than Viscount Bryce has made the assertion that in Transylvania alone
(which, by the way, has an area considerably greater than all our New
England states put together), which has been taken over by Rumania,
fully a third of the population has no affinity with the Rumanians.
Similarly, there are whole towns in the Dobrudja which are composed of
Bulgarians, there are large groups of Russian Slavs in Bessarabia, and
considerable colonies of Jugoslavs in the eastern half of the Banat
which, very much against their wishes, have been forced to submit to
Rumanian rule. Whether, now that the tables are turned, the Rumanians
will put aside their ancient animosities and prejudices and give these
new and unwilling citizens every privilege which they themselves enjoy,
is a question which only the future can solve.
Another question, which has agitated Rumania even more violently than
that of the racial minorities clause, was the demand made by the Great
Powers that the Rumanian army be withdrawn from Hungary and that the
livestock and agricultural implements of which that unhappy country was
stripped by the Rumanian forces be immediately returned. Here is the
Rumanian version: Hungary went Bolshevist and assumed a hostile
attitude toward Rumania, Czechoslovakia and Jugoslavia, the three
countries which will benefit by her dismemberment according to the
principle of nationality. Hungary attacked these countries by arms and
by anarchistic propaganda. The Rumanians, the Czechoslovaks and the
Jugoslavs, wishing to defend themselves, asked permission of the Supreme
Council to deal drastically with the Hungarian menace. The reply, which
was late in coming, was couched in vague and unsatisfactory language.
Emboldened by the vacillatory attitude of the Powers, the Hungarians
began a military offensive, invading Czechoslovakia and crossing the
lines of the Armistice in Rumania and Jugoslavia. In order to prevent a
spread of this Bolshevist movement the three countries prepared to
occupy Hungary with troops, whereupon a command came from the Supreme
Council in Paris that such aggression would not be tolerated. This
encouraged Bela Kun, the Hungarian Trotzky, and made him so popular that
he succeeded in raising a Red army with which he crossed the River
Theiss and invaded Rumania. Whereupon the Rumanian army, being unable to
obtain support from the Supreme Council, pushed back the Hungarians,
occupied Budapest, overthrew Bela Kun's administration and restored
order in Hungary. But the Supreme Council, feeling that its authority
had been ignored by the little country, sent several messages to the
Rumanian Government peremptorily ordering it to withdraw its troops
immediately from Hungary. Here endeth the Rumanian version.
Now the real reason which actuated the Supreme Council was not that it
felt that its authority had been slighted, but because it was informed
by its representatives in Hungary that the Rumanians had not stopped
with ousting Bela Kun and suppressing Bolshevism, but were engaged in
systematically looting the country, driving off thousands of head of
livestock, and carrying away all the machinery, rolling stock, telephone
and telegraph wires and instruments and metalwork they could lay their
hands on, thereby completely crippling the industries of Hungary and
depriving great numbers of people of employment. The Rumanians retorted
that the Austro-German armies had systematically looted Rumania during
their three years of occupation and that they were only taking back
what belonged to them. The Hungarians, while admitting that Rumania had
been pretty thoroughly stripped of animals and machinery by von
Mackensen's armies, asserted that this loot had not remained in Hungary
but had been taken to Germany, which was probably true. The Supreme
Council took the position that the animals and material which the
Rumanians were rushing out of Hungary in train-loads was not the sole
property of Rumania, but that it was the property of all the Allies, and
that the Supreme Council would apportion it among them in its own good
time. The Council pointed out, furthermore, that if the Rumanians
succeeded in wrecking Hungary industrially, as they were evidently
trying to do, it would be manifestly impossible for the Hungarians to
pay any war indemnity whatsoever. And finally, that a bankrupt and
starving Hungary meant a Bolshevist Hungary and that there was already
enough trouble of that sort in Eastern Europe without adding to it. The
Rumanians proving deaf to these arguments, the Supreme Council sent
three messages, one after the other, to the Bucharest government,
ordering the immediate withdrawal from Hungarian soil of the Rumanian
troops. Yet the Rumanian troops remained in Budapest and the looting of
Hungary continued, the Rumanian government declaring that the messages
had never been received. Meanwhile every one in the kingdom, from
Premier to peasant, was laughing in his sleeve at the helplessness of
the Supreme Council. But they laughed too soon. For the Supreme Council
wired to the Food Administrator, Herbert Hoover, who was in Vienna,
informing him of the facts of the situation, whereupon Mr. Hoover, who
has a blunt and uncomfortably direct way of achieving his ends, sent a
curt message to the Rumanian government informing it that, if the orders
of the Supreme Council were not immediately obeyed, he would shut off
its supplies of food. _That_ message produced action. The troops were
withdrawn. I can recall no more striking example of the amazing changes
brought about in Europe by the Great War than the picture of this
boyish-faced Californian mining engineer coolly giving orders to a
European government, and having those orders promptly obeyed, after the
commands of the Great Powers had been met with refusal and derision. To
take a slight liberty with the lines of Mr. Kipling--
_"The Kings must come down and the Emperors frown
When Herbert Hoover says 'Stop!'"_
Up to that time the United States had been immensely popular in Rumania.
But Mr. Hoover's action made us about as popular with the Rumanians as
the smallpox. He and we were charged with being actuated by the most
despicable and sordid motives. The King himself told me that he was
convinced that Mr. Hoover was in league with certain great commercial
interests which wished to take their revenge for their failure to obtain
commercial concessions of great value in Rumania. A cabinet minister, in
discussing the incident with me, became so inarticulate with rage that
he could scarcely talk at all.
But the United States is not the only country which has lost the
confidence of the Rumanians. France is even more deeply distrusted and
disliked than we are. And this in spite of the fact that the upper
classes of Rumania have held up the French as their ideal for the past
fifty years. Indeed, wealthy Rumanians live in a fashion more French
than if they dwelt in Paris itself. This sudden unpopularity of the
French is due to several causes. After having expected much of them, the
people were amazed and bitterly disappointed at their apparent
indifference toward the future of Rumania. Then there were the
unfortunate incidents at Odessa, the withdrawal of the French forces
from that city before the advance of the Bolsheviks, and the regrettable
happening in the French Black Sea fleet These things, of course,
contributed to loss of French prestige. Another contributory factor has
been the lack of enterprise of French capitalists, causing those who
control the financial and economic development of Rumania to seek
encouragement and assistance elsewhere. But the underlying reason for
the deep-seated distrust of France is to be found, I think, in France's
attempt to maintain the balance of power in Southeastern Europe by
building up a strong Jugoslavia. Now the Rumanians, it must be
remembered, hate the Jugoslavs even more bitterly than they hate the
Hungarians--and they are far more afraid of them. This hatred is not
merely the result of the age-long antagonism between the Latin and the
Slav; it is also political. The Rumanians have watched with growing
jealousy and apprehension the expansion of Serbia into a state with a
population and area nearly equal to their own. After having long dreamed
of the day when they would themselves be arbiters of the destinies of
the nations of Southeastern Europe, they see their political supremacy
challenged by the new Kingdom of the Serbs, Croats and Slovenes, behind
which they discern the power and influence of France. When the
dismemberment of the Austro-Hungarian Empire began, Rumania demanded and
expected the whole of the great rich province of the Banat, with the
Maros River for her northern and the Danube for her southern frontier.
"But that would place our capital within range of the Rumanian
artillery," the Serbian prime minister is said to have exclaimed.
"Then move your capital," the Rumanian premier responded drily.
As a result of this controversy over the Banat the relations of the two
nations have been strained almost to the breaking-point. When I was in
the Banat in the autumn of 1919 the Rumanian and Serbian frontier
guards were glowering at each other like fighting terriers held in
leash, and the slightest untoward incident would have precipitated a
conflict! Although, by the terms of the Treaty of St. Germain,
Jugoslavia was awarded the western half of the Banat, Rumania is
prepared to take advantage of the first opportunity which presents
itself to take it away from her rival. When I was in Bucharest a cabinet
minister concluded a lengthy exposition of Rumania's position by
declaring:
"Within the next two or three years, in all probability, there will be a
war between Jugoslavia and Italy over the Dalmatian question. The day
that Jugoslavia goes to war with Italy we will attack Jugoslavia and
seize the Banat. The Danube is Rumania's natural and logical frontier."
This would seem to bear out the assertion that there exists a secret
alliance between Italy and Rumania, which, if true, would place
Jugoslavia in the unhappy position of a nut between the jaws of a
cracker. I have also been told on excellent authority that there is
likewise an "understanding" between Italy and Bulgaria that, should the
former become engaged in a war with the Jugoslavs, the latter will
attack the Serbs from the east and regain her lost provinces in
Macedonia. A pleasant prospect for Southeastern Europe, truly.
While we were in Bucharest we received an invitation--"command" is the
correct word according to court usage--to visit the King and Queen of
Rumania at their Château of Pelesch, near Sinaia, in the Carpathians. It
is about a hundred miles by road from the capital to Sinaia and the
first half of the journey, which we made by motor, was over a road as
execrable as any we found in the Balkans. Upon reaching the foothills of
the Carpathians, however, the highway, which had been steadily growing
worse, suddenly took a turn for the better--due, no doubt, to the
invigorating qualities of the mountain atmosphere--and climbed
vigorously upward through wild gorges and splendid pine forests which
reminded me of the Adirondacks of Northern New York. Notwithstanding the
atrocious condition of the highway, which constantly threatened to
dislocate our joints as well as those of the car, and the choking,
blinding clouds of yellow dust, every change of figure on the
speedometer brought new and interesting scenes. For mile after mile the
road, straight as though marked out by a ruler, ran between fields of
wheat and corn as vast as those of our own West. In spite of the fact
that the Austro-Germans carried off all the animals and farming
implements they could lay their hands on, the agricultural prosperity of
Rumania is astounding. In 1916, for example, while involved in a
terribly destructive war, Rumania produced more wheat than Minnesota and
about twenty-five times as much corn as our three Pacific Coast states
combined. At frequent intervals we passed huge scarlet threshing
machines, most of them labeled "Made in U.S.A.," which were centers of
activity for hundreds of white-smocked peasants who were hauling in the
grain with ox-teams, feeding it into the voracious maws of the machines,
and piling the residue of straw into the largest stacks I have ever
seen. As we drew near the mountains the grain fields gave way to grazing
lands where great herds of cattle of various breeds--brindled milch
animals, massive cream-colored oxen, blue-gray buffalo with elephant
like hides and broad, curving horns, and gaunt steers that looked for
all the world like Texas longhorns--browsed amid the lush green grass.
Though the villages of the Wallachian plain are few and far between, and
though it is no uncommon thing for a peasant to walk a dozen miles from
his home to the fields in which he works, the whole region seemed a-hum
with industry. The Rumanian peasant, like his fellows below the Danube,
is, as a rule, a good-natured, easy-going though easily excited,
reasonably honest and extremely industrious fellow who labors from dawn
to darkness in six days of the week and spends the seventh in harmless
village carouses, chiefly characterized by dancing, music and the cheap
native wine. Rumania is one of the few countries in Europe where the
peasants still dress like the pictures on the postcards. The men wear
curly-brimmed shovel hats of black felt, like those affected by English
curates, and loose shirts of white linen, whose tails, instead of being
tucked into the trousers, flap freely about their legs, giving them the
appearance of having responded to an alarm of fire without waiting to
finish dressing. On Sundays and holidays men and women alike appear in
garments covered with the gorgeous needlework for which Rumania is
famous, some of the women's dresses being so heavily embroidered in gold
and silver that from a little distance the wearers look as though they
were enveloped in chain mail. A considerable and undesirable element of
Rumania's population consists of gipsies, whence their name of Romany,
or Rumani. The Rumanian gipsies, who are nomads and vagrants like their
kinsmen in the United States, are generally lazy, quarrelsome, dishonest
and untrustworthy, supporting themselves by horse-trading and
cattle-stealing or by their flocks and herds. We stopped near one of
their picturesque encampments in order to repair a tire and I took a
picture of a young woman with a child in her arms, but when I declined
to pay her the five lei she demanded for the privilege, she flew at me
like an angry cat, screaming curses and maledictions. But her picture
was not worth five lei, as you can see for yourself.
[Illustration: A PEASANT OF OLD SERBIA
The Serbian peasant is simple, kindly, hospitable, honest, and generous,
and, though he could not be described ... as a hard worker, his wife
invariably is]
[Illustration: THE GYPSY WHO DEMANDED FIVE LEI FOR THE PRIVILEGE OF
TAKING HER PICTURE]
The Castle of Pelesch is just such a royal residence as Anthony Hope has
depicted in _The Prisoner of Zenda_. It gives the impression, at first
sight, of a confusion of turrets, gables, balconies, terraces,
parapets and fountains, but one quickly forgets its architectural
shortcomings in the beauty of its surroundings. It stands amid velvet
lawns and wonderful rose gardens in a sort of forest glade, from which
the pine-clothed slopes of the Carpathians rise steeply on every side,
the beam-and-plaster walls, the red-tiled roofs, and the blazing gardens
of the château forming a striking contrast to the austerity of the
mountains and the solemnity of the encircling forest.
We had rather expected to be presented to Queen Marie with some
semblance of formality in one of the reception rooms of the château, but
she sent word by her lady-in-waiting that she would receive us in the
gardens. A few minutes later she came swinging toward us across a great
stretch of rolling lawn, a splendid figure of a woman, dressed in a
magnificent native costume of white and silver, a white scarf partially
concealing her masses of tawny hair, a long-bladed poniard in a silver
sheath hanging from her girdle. At her heels were a dozen Russian wolf
hounds, the gift, so she told me, of the Grand Duke Nicholas, the former
commander-in-chief of the Russian armies. I have seen many queens, but
I have never seen one who so completely meets the popular conception of
what a queen should look like as Marie of Rumania. Though in the middle
forties, her complexion is so faultless, her physique so superb, her
presence so commanding that, were she utterly unknown, she would still
be a center of attraction in any assemblage. Had she not been born to a
crown she would almost certainly have made a great name for herself,
probably as an actress. She paints exceptionally well and has written
several successful books and stories, thereby following the example of
her famous predecessor on the Rumanian throne, Queen Elizabeth, better
known as Carmen Sylva. She speaks English like an Englishwoman, as well
she may, for she is a granddaughter of Queen Victoria. She is also a
descendant of the Romanoffs, for one of her grandfathers was Alexander
III of Russia. In her manner she is more simple and democratic than many
American women that I know, her poise and simplicity being in striking
contrast to the manners of two of my countrywomen who had spent the
night preceding our arrival at the castle and who were manifestly much
impressed by this contact with the Lord's Anointed. When luncheon was
announced her second daughter, Princess Marie, had not put in an
appearance. But, instead of despatching the major domo to inform her
Royal Highness that the meal was served, the Queen stepped to the foot
of the great staircase and called, "Hurry up, Mignon. You're keeping us
all waiting," whereupon a voice replied from the upper regions, "All
right, mamma. I'll be down in a minute." Not much like the picture of
palace life that the novelists and the motion-picture playwrights give
us, is it? I might add that the Queen commonly refers to the plump young
princess as "Fatty," a nickname which she hardly deserves, however. In
her conversations with me the Queen was at times almost disconcertingly
frank. "Royalty is going out of fashion," she remarked on one occasion,
"but I like my job and I'm going to do everything I can to keep it." To
Mrs. Powell she said, "I have beauty, intelligence and executive
ability. I would be successful in life if I were not a queen."
Unlike many persons who occupy exalted positions, she has a real sense
of humor.
"Yesterday," she remarked, "was Nicholas's birthday," referring to her
second son, Prince Nicholas, who, since his elder brother, Prince Carol,
renounced his rights to the throne in order to marry the girl he loved,
has become the heir apparent. "At breakfast his father remarked, 'I'm
sorry, Nicholas, but I haven't any birthday present for you. The shops
in Bucharest were pretty well cleaned out by the Germans, you know, and
I didn't remember your birthday in time to send to Paris for a present.'
'Do you really wish to give Nicholas a present, Nando?' (the diminutive
of Ferdinand) I asked him. 'Of course I do,' the King answered, 'but
what is there to give him?' 'That's the easiest thing in the world,' I
replied. 'There is nothing that would give Nicholas so much pleasure as
an engraving of his dear father--on a thousand-franc note.'"
Prince Nicholas, the future king of Rumania, who is being educated at
Eton, looks and acts like any normal American "prep" school boy.
"Do the boys still wear top hats at Eton?" I asked him.
"Yes, they do," he answered, "but it's a silly custom. And they cost two
guineas apiece. I leave it to you, Major, if two guineas isn't too much
for any hat."
When I told him that in democratic America certain Fifth Avenue hatters
charge the equivalent of five guineas for a bowler he looked at me in
frank unbelief. "But then," he remarked, "all Americans are rich."
Shortly before luncheon we were joined by King Ferdinand, a slenderly
built man, somewhat under medium height, with a grizzled beard, a genial
smile and merry, twinkling eyes. He wore the gray-green field uniform
and gold-laced kepi of a Rumanian general, the only thing about his
dress which suggested his exalted rank being the insignia of the Order
of Michael the Brave, which hung from his neck by a gold-and-purple
ribbon. Were you to see him in other clothes and other circumstances you
might well mistake him for an active and successful professional man.
King Ferdinand is the sort of man one enjoys chatting with in front of
an open fire over the cigars, for, in addition to being a shrewd judge
of men and events and having a remarkably exact knowledge of world
affairs, he possesses in an altogether exceptional degree the qualities
of tact, kindliness and humor.
The King did not hesitate to express his indignation that the re-making
of the map of Europe should have been entrusted to men who possessed so
little first-hand knowledge of the nations whose boundaries they were
re-shaping.
"A few days before the signing of the Treaty of St. Germain," he told
me, "Lloyd George sent for one of the experts attached to the Peace
Conference.
"'Where is this Banat that Rumania and Serbia are quarreling over?' he
inquired.
"'I will show you, sir,' the attaché answered, unrolling a map of
southeastern Europe. For several minutes he explained in detail to the
British Premier the boundaries of the Banat and the conflicting
territorial claims to which its division had given rise. But when he
paused Lloyd George made no response. He was sound asleep!
"Yet a little group of men," the King continued, "who know no more about
the nations whose destinies they are deciding than Lloyd George knew
about the Banat, have abrogated to themselves the right to cut up and
apportion territories as casually as though they were dividing
apple-tarts."
[Illustration: KING FERDINAND TELLS MRS. POWELL HIS OPINION OF THE
FASHION IN WHICH THE PEACE CONFERENCE TREATED RUMANIA, WHILE QUEEN MARIE
LISTENS APPROVINGLY]
The impression prevails in other countries that it is Queen Marie who is
really the head of the Rumanian royal family and that the King is little
more than a figurehead. With this estimate I do not agree. Rumania could
have no better spokesman than Queen Marie, whose talents, beauty, and
exceptional tact peculiarly fit her for the difficult rôle she has been
called upon to play. But the King, though he is by nature quiet and
retiring, is by no means lacking in political sagacity or the courage of
his convictions, being, I am convinced, as important a factor in the
government of his country as the limitations of its constitution permit.
Though none too well liked, I imagine, by the professional politicians,
who in Rumania, as in other countries, resent any attempt at
interference by the sovereign with their plans, the royal couple are
immensely popular with the masses of the people, Ferdinand frequently
being referred to as "the peasants' King." In the darkest days of the
war, when Rumania was overrun by the enemy and it seemed as though
Moldavia and the northern Dobrudja were all that could be saved to the
nation, King Ferdinand and Queen Marie, instead of escaping from their
country or asking the enemy for terms, retreated with the army to Jassy,
on the easternmost limits of the kingdom, where they underwent the
horrors of that terrible winter with their soldiers, the King serving
with the troops in the field and the Queen working in the hospitals as a
Red Cross nurse. Less than three years later, however, on November
twentieth, 1919, there assembled in Bucharest the first parliament of
Greater Rumania, attended by deputies from all those Rumanian
regions--Bessarabia, Transylvania, the Banat, the Bucovina and the
Dobrudja--which had been restored to the Rumanian motherland. At the
head of the chamber, in the great gilt chair of state, sat Ferdinand I,
who, from the fugitive ruler, shivering with his ragged soldiers in the
frozen marshes beside the Pruth, has become the sovereign of a country
having the sixth largest population in Europe and has taken his place in
Rumanian history beside Stephen the Great and Michael the Brave as
Ferdinand the Liberator.