min ^mia man 
 
 JEWISH ASSOCIATION FOR THE DIFFUSION OF RELIGIOUS 
 KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 SABBATH SCHOOL. 
 
 DISTRIBUTION OF PRIZES, 1894 
 
 /TNE REV. A. A. GREEN 
 
 IN THE CHAIR, 
 
 Standard. 
 
 cf&acJier. 
 
 E. N. ADLER, 
 H. G. MEYER, 
 
 Ibonorars 
 
 Superintendents, 
 

 
 
 
 / 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 / 
 
 r 
 
 
UNTRODDEN PATHS 
 
 IN 
 
 ROUMANIA 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2018 with funding from 
 Getty Research Institute 
 
 https://archive.org/details/untroddenpathsinOOwalk_O 
 
UNTRODDEN PATHS 
 
 IX 
 
 ROMANIA 
 
 BY 
 
 Mrs WALKER 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 44 EASTERN LIFE AND SCENERY,” 44 THROUGH MACEDONIA ” 
 ETC. 
 
 ®ith <Sebettty-<Srbm illustrations by the JUithor 
 
 LONDON:CHAPMAN AND HALL 
 Limited 
 
 1888 
 
 [ALL rights reserved] 
 
Richard Clay & Sons, Limited, 
 London & Bungay. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The kingdom of Roumania, formed by the union 
 of the principalities of Wallachia and Moldavia, is 
 one of the most interesting—-as it is certainly one 
 of the least known—countries of Europe. 
 
 Situated between the Carpathians and the Danube, 
 and unprotected by any high mountain range on its 
 eastern boundaries, the climate of Roumania is ex¬ 
 posed to the greatest extremes of temperature-—in 
 winter suffering from intense cold, while the summer 
 heats in the plains are only equalled in Greece or 
 (as one author declares) in the West Indies ; but all 
 agree as to the wonderful—almost inexhaustible— 
 fertility of the soil, watered by countless streams that 
 flow from the Carpathians. Much rain also falls 
 during the months of June and July ; it is always 
 accompanied by storms of wind and thunder, which 
 return every day towards the evening. Here there 
 are no tracts of barren land, and the use of even the 
 
Yin 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 simplest artificial means for increasing the productive¬ 
 ness of the earth is quite unknown. 
 
 ‘ The chain of the Carpathians abounds in mineral 
 wealth; the rivers Dimbovitza and Argescli carry 
 along a considerable quantity of grains of gold, which 
 was formerly collected by the Tsiganes, who paid in 
 this way the heavy tax imposed upon them. Silver, 
 copper, iron, quicksilver, saltpetre, lead, tin, coal, and 
 other valuable substances may also be traced in many 
 places’ (Ubicini). Roumania is rich in mineral 
 springs, Wallachia alone counting forty sources of 
 various qualities and degrees of strength. 
 
 With the great and daily increasing extension of 
 railway lines, some of this vast natural wealth is now 
 being utilized, such as the great salt mines of Okna, 
 the coal from another district, and the timber of the 
 virgin forests that cover the mountains. The Mol¬ 
 davian timber is especially valuable, and much of it 
 is floated down the tributary streams as rafts, eventu¬ 
 ally reaching the Danube, to be exported from Galatz. 
 The resources of Roumania are so great, that under 
 a wise, peaceful, and encouraging government (were 
 only peace from without equally assured), this small 
 state may become in a short firne one of the most 
 flourishing in Europe—a prosperity that has been 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 IX 
 
 dearly bought by centuries of suffering. We find a 
 quotation from £ La Vallee ’ that says—‘ There are few 
 countries, few populations, that have been in former 
 times more ill-treated, more trodden down, more tor¬ 
 tured ; their history is but a long recital of martyrdom ; 
 and when we read this monstrous record of devastation 
 and massacres, we wonder that any inhabitants, any 
 trace of cultivated land, should still remain.’ 
 
 The highest peak of the Southern Carpathians is 
 l’Omul—called also Kara Imam (now corrupted into 
 Caraiman); it rises about 8000 feet, and is the 
 crowning summit of the Butchesch, or Bucegi, be¬ 
 tween Sinaia and the Transylvanian frontier. In 
 Moldavia, Tchacldou, in the district of Neamtz, rises 
 to nearly 9000 feet, the loftiest summit of the Eastern 
 Carpathians. Tradition affirms, that on this crest the 
 heathen Dacians had raised a statue to commemorate 
 the tutelary genius of their race. ‘ The name of this 
 genius,’ says Ubicini, ‘ has been preserved ; it is that 
 of an old woman called .Baba Dokia (Old Dokia). 
 The statue is colossal, partly of natural formation, 
 partly wrought; she is surrounded by twenty sheep. 
 This statue may be seen on the highest peak of Mount 
 Tchacleou in Moldavia, and the peasantry relate many 
 traditions connected with this Dacian divinity.’ 
 
X 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The Roumanian language offers a subject of deep 
 interest, being mainly derived from the Roman 
 colonists settled in Dacia by Trajan, in the beginning 
 of the second century. These colonists were chiefly 
 drawn from the northern provinces of Italy, and they 
 introduced amongst the Dacians c a Latin which was 
 no longer that of Rome, but a primitive and already 
 corrupt dialect; there are words belonging to the 
 ancient Doric, to that popular idiom that had ceased 
 to be used at Rome in the time of Virgil and Cicero ’ 
 (Ubicini). 
 
 September , 1888. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 I. Galatz. 
 
 Mixed Population—The Upper Town—Strada Ceres—View across 
 the Danube—The Reni Chaussee—Burrs—The Public Garden 
 —The Boulevard Elizabeth—A Roumanian House—Good 
 Stoves—Stencilling—Droskys and Brishkas—Buffaloes and 
 their bathing tendencies—Beautiful Moldavian Oxen—A 
 Charioteer—The Lower Town—Schleps—Sylvan charm within 
 the city—Bordeis—Caput Bovis—Antiquarian Treasures— 
 View up and down the Danube—‘No Man’s Land’—The 
 grandeur of a vast Plain—The Shadowy Carpathians ... page 3 
 
 II. Winter on the Danube. 
 
 Extreme Cold—Icy Marvels—The Singers of ‘ Kolindes’—Blessing 
 the Danube—A Motley Crowd—Sheepskin Coats—The Proces¬ 
 sion of the Churches—The Service and the Struggles for the 
 Cross—for the Evergreen—-and for the Water—Many Churches 
 but poor Congregations—Supposed Burial-place of Mazeppa— 
 Funereal Customs—Elaborate Preparations—Unseemly Hilarity 
 —The Procession is formed—Starts—Stops again—Friends 
 ask forgiveness of the Deceased—Survival of many Heathen 
 Customs—Illumination of the Cemeteries . 20 
 
Xll 
 
 CONTEXTS. 
 
 III. Ballads and Popular Superstitions in Boumania. 
 
 Alecsandri’s Poems and Legends—Veneration for the Memory of 
 Trajan—Haiduks—Mihou—Chalga—The Little Lamb of Birsa 
 ‘—The Shadow—Dolka—The Familiar Serpent—-An uncanny 
 Egg — Superstitions — Stafii — Vampires — Balauri — Zinei — 
 Hanoi the Mason and his Young Wife—The sinister Measuring 
 
 IY. The Monastery of Adam and Jassy. 
 
 At Berlad—Jewish Coachmen—Arrival at the Monastery—Monastic 
 Cottages—Our good 1 Maica ’—The Mother Superior'—Costume 
 of the Nuns—Visits—Pretty Dwellings and Industry of the 
 Maicas—Impoverishment of the Religious Communities—The 
 Procession—Great Antiquity of Jassy—Beautiful Church of the 
 Tre'i Jerahi—Delicate Lace in Stone—Careful Restoration of 
 the Monument . . ... ... ... 53 
 
 Y. Agapia and the Monastery of Niamtz. 
 
 From Jassy to Pashkani—An Oasis—Primitive Shoes—Town of 
 Niamtz—Beautiful approach to Agapia—The Monastery—Sora 
 Katerina—The Sisters Cosinescu—A visit to the Ma'ica Staritza 
 —The Great Hall and the Dispensary—The Asylum—The 
 Great Church—Church Jewelry and Vestments—The Industry 
 of the Nuns—Buffalo Babies—Monastery of Niamtz—Curious 
 Archway—Former Prosperity of the Monastery—The two 
 Churches—The Mortuary—The Shepherd’s Fountain-—Mar 
 maliga—Katerina and Katinka—Beautiful Forest Scenery—A 
 stiff pull—The Bar and Mallets—Picturesque Costume ... 64 
 
 YI. IIisiika and Baia. 
 
 Indirect Directions—A Short Cut—Conflicting Testimony—Stream¬ 
 lets and Fords—A Floundering Progress—A Haven of Rest— 
 
 A Wild-Man-of-the-Woods—The Nephew of the Archimandrite 
 — Delightful Guest-rooms— Refined Service of ‘Ancient 
 Dacians’-—The Monastery Gardens—Basket Barns—The 
 Church—Wall Paintings and Quaint Conceits—Great Hos¬ 
 pitality—A Venerable Archimandrite —‘ Non, je suis vieux I ’ 
 
 —Uncertain Progress—Ba'ia and its ruined Church-—Folticeni 87 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Xlll 
 
 YXI. Yeratic—-Balteteshti—Horaitza. 
 
 Dress of the Moldavian Peasantry—Ruins of the Castle of Stephen 
 the Great—The Historical Gateway—Beautiful Ravine—Wild 
 Gooseberries—Yeratic—Disorderly Arrangements and Unrest 
 —The Church—Lovely Situation of the Monastery—A Cottage 
 near the Pines—A Bespangled Porter—Mineral Baths of Balte¬ 
 teshti—Pleasant Boarding-house—Mild Dissipation—A Fiasco 
 —To Horaitza in a Basket-cart—Walking preferred to Wading 
 —A Wooded Gorge—Sylvan Beauty—Arcadia Profaned—The 
 Little Monastery—A Stencilled Church—A Drive accomplished 
 on foot-—To Piatra. ... ... ... ... 102 
 
 YIII. SlkJU AND SlKLA. 
 
 The Monastery of Secu—Its Founders—Former.strength and import¬ 
 ance—Parente Seraphim—The Visitors’ Book—Our Ox-cart—- 
 Armed Monks—Splendid Forest Tracks—A Perilous Ascent— 
 
 A ‘ mauvais pas ’—Monastery of Sikla—The Little Church— 
 
 The mild vanity of Parente Samuel—The Descent—A Storm 
 and Galloping Oxen—Their Names ... ... ... ... 118 
 
 IX. Piatra—Durau—The Raft. 
 
 Environs of Piatra—Monastery of Bistritza—Tomb of Alexander 
 the Good—The River Bistritza—Moldavian Peasantry—Difficult 
 Forest Tracks—At Durau—A forgotten Community—View of 
 Tchaklau—A Peaceful Retreat—Transylvanians—The Summit 
 of Tchaklau—Lilies—A Venerable Archimandrite—An Infant 
 Miser—Hangii—Making the Raft—Vexatious Delays—A False 
 Start—The Gipsy Raftsman—Rain, Rapids, and Rocks—Dex¬ 
 terous Handling of the Raft—A Melancholy Landing—An Un¬ 
 expected Collapse—Bodily and Mental Friction—Zeklers ... 133 
 
 X. Bukurest—Cernica. 
 
 Forest Clearings in Bulgaria—Hotel Brofft—Calea Vittoriei—The 
 Boulevards—The Colza Tower and Hospital—The Cathedral— 
 
 Old Monastery of Radu Voda—Massacre and Rejoicings—St. 
 Spiridion—Doamna Balasha—The Brancovano Charity—Gor¬ 
 geous Service—A Simple Service—The Cismeg'iu—Violent 
 
XIV 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Driving—Russian Coachmen-—A Marriage-—The Museum— 
 Barbaric Jewelry—The ‘Trdsor’—Vacareshti—The Mogosha'i 
 -—Delightful Drive—An unexpected Valley—Woodland Scenery 
 —A Reedy Marsh—The Guest-room—The * Kalugari ’ rise to 
 the occasion—Church of St. George—The Mortuary—Mode of 
 Burial of an Archbishop—Church of St. Nicholas—The Staritz 
 and his perfumed Garden ... ... ... ... ... ... 159 
 
 XI. CUETEA D’AeGESCH. 
 
 Wallachian Cottages—Pastoral Scenery—Rain and a Refuge—A 
 glittering Costume—The little Inn of Argesch—Ruins—The 
 Church of the Angels—The Cathedral—Doubtful Embellish¬ 
 ments—‘Common Saints’—Art and Nature—Foundation of 
 the Cathedral—Rebuilt by Negoe Voda—Solemn Dedication— 
 Tombs, Tablets, and Inscriptions—The varying Fortunes of 
 the Monument—Its gorgeous Beauty—The Spiral Turrets — 
 
 The Fountain—Where the Wife of Maestre Manoli was 
 walled in ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 183 
 
 XII. Sinaia—Kronstadt (in Transylvania). 
 
 The Valley of the Prahova— Sinaia—View from the Balcony—The 
 Monastery—Its Origin—Chateau de Pelescli—Progress in 
 Roumania—On the Road to Kronstadt—Mountains and Gorges 
 -—Summits of the Butchesch—-Legend of La Omu—Legend of 
 Marco the Shepherd—The Gorge of the Prahova-—Predeal— 
 The Tomos Pass—Kronstadt—Origin of the Name—The Alt- 
 stadt—The three Privileged Nationalities—In the City—Choice 
 of a Market Place—Tribulations of Kronstadt—The Black 
 Church—Pitiable Neglect—The Fortifications—On the Kapel- 
 lenberg — A Beautiful Avenue — Towers and Bastions — A 
 Mediaeval Relic—Flying Buttresses—The White Tower—The 
 Black Tower—The Lilac Lane—A Storm—The Schlossberg— 
 Dining under Difficulties—Neustadt—Rosenau—Up the Hill¬ 
 side—Anold‘Vrou’—Around the Ruins—The Castle Well— 
 The Pigs of Rosenau 
 
 ... 200 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 XV 
 
 XIII. Campu-Lung—Namoeshti—Rimnik—Yalcei. 
 
 A Flight from the ‘City of Pleasure’—A New Line—Mdme. 
 Cavallar—Market People—Lucika-—Ancient Church of Campu- 
 lung—Portraits of the Domni—Inscriptions—The Monastery 
 of Namoeshti—A Grotto Church—The Ma'ica Staritza and her 
 Balcony—Drive to Rucar—Lovely Scenery—Saw-mills—Bad 
 Accommodation—The Caverns of Rucar—Source of the Dim- 
 bovitza—The Impressions of the Guide’s Guide—Beauty of the 
 Women—Again at Namoeshti—Welcome and Rest—Marie— 
 Ma'ica Melania, her Flowers, and her Fluffy Dog—The Mad 
 Girl—Waving Farewells—Effusive Welcomes—Long Route to 
 Rimnik—A Miserable ‘locanda’—A Sigh for Civilization— 
 From the Window... . ... ... ... 243 
 
 XIY. Horezu and Bistritza. 
 
 On the Road—The Half-way House—A Chance Acquaintance— 
 
 The Monastery of Horezu—The Ma'ica Staritza—The Ma'ica 
 Economa—Great and kindly Hospitality—Curious Architecture 
 of the Interior Court—Zealous Attentions—Interior of the 
 Church—Portraits of the Brancovano Family—The Beautiful 
 Screen—A neglected Garden—Bistritza, a Military School— 
 Tomb of St. Gregory—To the Hermit’s Cell— 1 A little way 
 up I ’—Across the Bed of a Cataract—Step by step on the face 
 of a Wall of Rock—The Cavern—Chapel and Cell of the Hermit 
 —A Second Chapel—Bats—Bolbeni—Difficult Accommodation 
 —The Host and Florica his Wife—Patience and Contemplation 
 —Tearing to the Train ... ... ... ... ... ... 273 
 
 XY. A Sketch of Roumanian History, and of the 
 Times of the Yoivodes, 
 
 Decebalus and Trajan—Roman Colonists in Dacia—They retire 
 beyond the Carpathians—Inroads of Barbarians during several 
 Centuries—Radu Negru founds the Principality of Wallachia 
 -—Bogdan Dragosch founds the Principality of Moldavia— 
 Legend of Molda—Mircea I., his uncertain Alliances—Alex¬ 
 ander the Good a Benefactor of Moldavia—Stephen the Great 
 
XVI 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 —Movila—Treaties with the Ottoman Power—Vlad the Impaler 
 —His Cruelties—Rodolph IV.—The Patriarch Niphon—Re¬ 
 ligious Reforms—Negoe I.—His Beneficial Rule—Rebuilds the 
 Cathedral of Arjesch—Commercial Prosperity of Roumania— 
 Michael the Brave—Defeat of the Turks—The Bridge of 
 Giurgevo—Michael’s Successes in Transylvania'—Unites the 
 Principalities under one Rule—His Triumphs and Reverses— 
 
 His Death—Matthew Basaraba and Vasili Lupu—Serban II., 
 Cantacuzene—Constantine Basaraba Brancovano—His Cruel 
 Death—Fate of his Family—Stephen Cantacuzene, the last of 
 the Native Princes ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 293 
 
 XVI. The Phanariots. 
 
 The Phanar and the Old Greek Families—Their Wealth and Talents 
 -—Created Hospodars of Wallachia and Moldavia—A Century 
 of Misrule—Ipsilantis and Vladimiresco—Return of the Native 
 Princes—Russian Occupations—The Principalities united under 
 Prince Couza—Election of Prince Charles of Hohenzollern in 
 1866—The Kingdom of Roumania constituted in 1881—Great 
 Progress in Roumania—Slavery and Serfdom—The Gipsies as 
 Slaves from the fifteenth century till the year 1837'—Their 
 Final Emancipation in 1855—The Origin of Serfdom a charit¬ 
 able custom—It becomes an oppressive Servitude—The Serfs 
 emancipated in 1865—The Monasteries—Their Foundation and 
 Endowment—Their ‘Dedication’—The ‘Dedication’ degener¬ 
 ates from the Original Intention—Secularization of the Monas¬ 
 teries completed in 1864 ... ... ... ... ... ... 330 
 
MOLDAVIA. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
UNTRODDEN PATES IN ROUIANIA. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 GALATZ, 
 
 Mixed population—The Upper Town—Strada Ceres—Yiew across 
 the Danube—-The Reni Chaussee—Burrs—The Public Garden 
 -—The Boulevard Elizabeth—A Roumanian House—Good 
 Stoves—Stencilling—Broskys and Brishkas-—-Buffaloes and 
 their bathing tendencies—-Beautiful Moldavian Oxen—-A 
 Charioteer—The Lower Town—Schleps—Sylvan charm within 
 the city—Borders—Caput Bovis—Antiquarian Treasures— 
 View up and down the Danube—' No Man’s Land 1—The 
 grandeur of a vast Plain—The Shadowy Carpathians. 
 
 Roumanians, Greeks, Bulgarians, Russians, Arme¬ 
 nians, Jews, and a sprinkling of every European 
 nationality, make up the population of Galatz, the 
 important commercial town, near the junction of the 
 river Sefeth with the Danube. 
 
 B 2 
 
4 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 The Jews are very numerous here, and they 
 hold in their hands the most lucrative commerce 
 —the corn trade—almost exclusively. The gipsies 
 (Tsiganes) are in great numbers throughout the 
 country; in former days they were slaves in the 
 fullest sense of the word, but for many years 
 have been entirely liberated; as also the ‘ serfs,’ 
 who were once in a condition little superior to that 
 of the Tsiganes. 
 
 Galatz is divided into the Upper Town, spreading 
 along a high earth-cliff, and the Lower Town, at the 
 foot of the cliff, and reaching to the Danube. 
 
 THE UPPER TOWN. 
 
 The house in which I spent some happy weeks 
 stands on the extreme edge of the earth-cliff, that 
 runs along for a great distance, separating this 
 quarter, in which all the best houses are situated, 
 from the flat level of the Lower Town, composed of 
 shops, magazines, and wharves. The windows of my 
 room, looking over a fringe of apricot trees and 
 acacias, commands a very extensive prospect ; not 
 beautiful or richly varied, but often attractive, with 
 that indescribable fascination of eastern colouring, 
 
THE UPPER TOWN OF GALATZ. 
 
 5 
 
 that does much to compensate for many a deficiency 
 of form and outline. 
 
 Not far from the foot of the cliff, a broad road, 
 the Strada Cer4s, is bordered by immense magazines 
 for storing corn, raised a few feet from the ground ; 
 acres of the loner horizontal lines of the brown-toned 
 
 O 
 
 roofs stretch far away, with the occasional break of 
 a pigeon-house or a flour-mill, till it reaches the 
 banks of the Danube. 
 
 Beyond the stream—a meagre hamlet or two, and 
 a few trees marking the line of the Bulgarian shore— 
 the eye is carried over a richly-tinted plain, dotted 
 by a few small lakes, until it meets a solid group of 
 bronze and violet hills, backed by the majestic out¬ 
 line of a last spur of the Balkan range. 
 
 The view over the western portion of the town 
 shows, first, a broad road winding upwards from the 
 plain; along this, a slow and toiling procession 
 of bullock-carts, laden with the gigantic reeds 
 which serve as fuel in all the humbler dwellings; 
 these reeds—taken principally from a lake lying to 
 the east of Galatz, not far from the Bdni Chaussee, 
 the lake Bratisch—are used also for wattling fences, 
 for supporting the vines, and for many other pur¬ 
 poses. At the foot of the road, the railway station 
 
6 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IX ROUMANIA. 
 
 stands near the entrance to this R<hii Chaussee, a 
 causeway five miles long, leading to the town of 
 Reni on the Pruth. Workmen are just now busily 
 engaged in raisins; this barrier a few feet higher, as 
 a recent inundation had Hooded the whole of the 
 Lower Town, and caused very great destruction of 
 property. We cannot see the course of the Pruth, 
 the often-disputed boundary stream, but we know 
 that it is flowing beyond the white steeple of the 
 church at Reni; the hills of Bessarabia bound the 
 prospect on the horizon. 
 
 The people of Roumania have a national aversion 
 to the river Pruth; it is the subject of verses far 
 from complimentary, and they declare that all mis¬ 
 fortunes—from cholera, war, and famine, down to the 
 burrs brought by the Russians in their horses’ tails— 
 come to them from the further side of that ill-famed 
 river. The burr in this part of the world is a 
 most wonderful production—a complicated, grape- 
 shot sort of burr, that has a way of creeping up 
 its victim, like a living creature, and that sews and 
 binds and weaves the garments together into per¬ 
 fectly hopeless masses of entanglement; the horses’ 
 tails become stiffened with them into heavy, 
 immovable clubs, and a dog’s life is a burden to 
 
GENERAL VIEW OF GALATZ. 
 
 7 
 
 him if he happen to be provided with a shaggy, 
 woolly coat. 
 
 The best general view of Galatz is from the Strada 
 Romana, a wide road on the outskirts of the Upper 
 Town ; it embraces the whole extent, with thirty 
 c'hurches-—the cupolas, some green, some touched 
 with blue, one a rich creamy yellow, the Bulgarian 
 and many others glittering all over with a coating 
 of metal plates, like the scales of a fish. 
 
 On the north-eastern side of the town, before 
 reaching the picturesque village of Vandungulo, that 
 still contains some £ borders,’ or sunken dwellings, 
 there is a large and well-planted garden, overlooking 
 the lake Bratisch ; and on the opposite side of the 
 road a fine boulevard, the first tree of which was 
 planted by the Princess of Roumania, and called, 
 after her, the £ Boulevard Elizabeth.’ Here also are 
 situated the two hospitals occupied by the wounded 
 soldiers during the last war, and the extensive build¬ 
 ings of the fine convent of the £ Dames de Sion,’ in 
 the Strada Domneasca. The houses of the Dames de 
 Sion were founded by the celebrated Pere Ratisbonne, 
 and here, as at Constantinople, Jerusalem, and other 
 eastern cities, have rendered most valuable assistance 
 to the cause of female education among the better 
 
8 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 classes, besides maintaining admirably conducted 
 gratuitous schools for the humbler part of the 
 population. 
 
 Roumanian houses are, with few exceptions, built 
 upon the same plan; they seldom rise to the dignity 
 of a second floor. From a portico and colonnade, 
 approached by a double flight of steps, you pass into 
 a room serving as entrance-hall, and through that 
 to the great ‘ sala/ the principal apartment, running 
 the whole depth of the building. Other rooms open 
 from this sala on either side, the whole dwelling being 
 on one flat, raised a few feet above the level of the 
 ground. The kitchens and servants’ offices are built 
 out at a right angle along one side of the court, 
 which is always very spacious, and contains the well, 
 usually marked by an enormous wheel, the cellar, 
 where the winter’s store of vegetables is preserved, 
 buried deep in sand, and the icehouse, an equally 
 indispensable provision against the overpowering 
 heats of summer. There is always a sort of garden 
 beyond, sometimes planted and cared for, more often 
 a forlorn wilderness of acacias and scanty lilacs, a 
 paradise of cocks and hens, with perhaps a goat or 
 two; in meaner house-yards ferocious, bristly-backed 
 pigs are lords of the soil. 
 
ROUMANIAN HOUSES. 
 
 9 
 
 It may be remarked here, that the pigs in these 
 parts are extraordinarily savage, and even dangerous. 
 A gentleman once passing late across an open piece 
 of country beyond Galatz, was pursued by a herd of 
 these creatures, who would have torn him to pieces 
 if he had not, by almost incredible exertion, managed 
 to outstrip them, and to save his life, though his 
 health was seriously injured by the fatal race. 
 
 The Roumanian houses are particularly comfortable 
 in winter. The rooms are large and lofty, but they 
 have double windows-—a very great defence against 
 the extreme cold,-—and every room is furnished with 
 a brick stove ; the large sala is sometimes provided 
 with two. These stoves, which are peculiar to Rou- 
 mania, though with some similarity to the German 
 stoves, rise nearly to the ceiling; they diffuse warmth 
 not only from the body of the structure, but from the 
 tall hollow columns through which the heated air is 
 carried. When judiciously managed, kept open, and 
 not overheated, the temperature, which is equal in 
 every part of the room, is the softest and most agree¬ 
 able that can be imagined. Although there may be 
 several windows, and four or five doors, you are never 
 afflicted by those distressing draughts that our 
 English grates seem especially to draw towards them : 
 
10 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 the heated bricks continue to radiate a gentle heat 
 for several hours after the fire has burnt itself out. 
 
 The furniture and arrangement of a sitting-room 
 is very much the same as may be seen in Paris— 
 warm carpets in winter, and polished, parqueted floors 
 in summer, with every luxury to be met with in 
 Parisian or Viennese homes. The one peculiarity is, 
 that the walls are often stencilled instead of being 
 hung with paper; but this work is so exquisitely 
 done, by Maltese or Italian workmen, that it is 
 difficult to realize it, even on a close inspection. 
 
 French is the language of polite society, as the 
 manners and customs, the military organization, the 
 coinage, and many other matters are modelled ac¬ 
 cording to French system and rules. The toilettes 
 also are Parisian, in good taste, and worn with ease 
 and grace; the carriages are mostly from Vienna, and 
 they have some of the finest carriage-horses that can 
 be seen, but the effect is generally spoiled by the 
 rough, uncombed look of the servants. 
 
 Almost all the coachmen in Galatz are Russian, 
 especially the drivers of the little ‘ droskys ’; they 
 mostly belong to the sect of the Lipovans. They 
 wear in winter fur caps, widening towards the top, 
 which is flat; sheepskin coats—the wool inwards— 
 
ROUMANIAN CARRIAGES. 
 
 11 
 
 bound round the waist by a red sash, and heavy 
 leather boots. They are admirable drivers, steering 
 their skinny, wiry little horses and the rickety 
 droskys over pitfalls and through entanglements that 
 would quite upset the nerves of a dignified English 
 coachman. 
 
 There is yet another style of carriage still to be 
 met with in parts not as yet overrun with railway 
 lines. The primitive conveyance, until lately the only 
 travelling resource in the more distant part of the 
 country, is called a brishka, a springless carriage. 
 Its approach is announced from a distance by a great 
 jangling of bells; then, in a thick cloud of dust, a 
 low, wide-open wicker basket (which one author has 
 likened to a crate intended for earthenware) rattles 
 by, the traveller and his goods heaped together in 
 picturesque confusion. The vehicle is drawn by four 
 small horses harnessed abreast; they are dirty, un¬ 
 combed, uncared-for, and half-starved, but the poor 
 little beasts go at a great pace, and show’ untiring 
 endurance and goodwill. 
 
 For mountain-roads, where more fragile vehicles 
 could not venture, the genuine rough timber-cart, 
 without fastenings, that sways, and twists, and yields 
 to the verge of dislocation, yet holds together, where 
 
12 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 any other conveyance would infallibly upset, must be 
 accepted with gratitude—it is drawn sometimes by 
 bullocks, at others by buffaloes; the latter animals 
 have an unconquerable tendency to bathe under 
 adverse circumstances. An anecdote, related in the 
 beginning of the century, refers, however, not to a 
 cart, but to a rude sort of talika drawn by these 
 hideous, ungainly beasts. 
 
 £ Half-way on our road we met with an adven¬ 
 ture, comical enough, yet rather tragical in its 
 consequences. The harem of Elik Oglou travelled 
 in great coffers, painted red and gilt, set upon a 
 foundation on four wheels; the Turks call this a 
 carriage. These boxes were hermetically closed, and 
 the unfortunate women must have suffered horribly 
 from the overpowering heat. They were drawn by 
 buffaloes, who suffered equally from the burning 
 atmosphere. When these animals come near water, 
 their custom is to plunge into it and lie down ; 
 nothing can make them leave it. We came to a 
 shallow lake, and the harem was immediately drawn 
 into it; we heard terrible screams from the un¬ 
 happy prisoners, who dreaded every moment to be 
 engulfed, and yet,—such is the force of religious 
 prejudice and of custom,—not one among them would 
 
BESSARABIAN HORSES. 
 
 13 
 
 seek safety by an escape from her prison, which 
 would involve showing her features to strangers. 
 They remained in this fearful situation the whole 
 night, and were only at length drawn out when 
 hunger forced the buffaloes to quit the lake; many 
 of the women fell ill afterwards from fear, heat, and 
 privation’ (De Langeron). 
 
 The southern plains of Bessarabia, on the further 
 side of the Pruth, were celebrated for a breed of 
 swift-footed, vigorous horses; an animal from the 
 ‘ Boudjak ’ is frequently the hero of a wild ballad 
 or legend, as much the pride and cherished treasure 
 of his owner, as the famous coursers of the Arabian 
 desert. 
 
 Oxen are much used here for drawing heavy carts 
 and burdens—a patient, mild-eyed, short-legged race, 
 gray, with gigantic, wide-spreading horns. You may 
 meet them towards sunset wandering homewards 
 quite alone, and waiting quietly to be let in to 
 their respective yards, or gently knocking with their 
 horns for admittance. Sometimes they are footing 
 heavily along in pairs (the day’s work over), dragging 
 the empty chariot, which is driven, standing, by a 
 peasant in the costume that has varied little for 
 nearly two thousand years ; it may be seen as the 
 
14 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 dress of the Dacian captives on Trajan’s column at 
 Rome. 
 
 This antique dress and the attitude irresistibly 
 recall the origin of the word ‘ Boyard,’ a ‘ title 
 borne by the Roman colonists in the eighth and 
 ninth centuries, when they went to battle in chariots 
 armed with scythes, and drawn by oxen; every 
 master of such armed chariots was called Boi'er 
 (Bovis herus) ’ (Ubicini). 
 
 The Boyards were created a distinct class of 
 nobility in the fifteenth century, when Radu Yo'ivode 
 of Wallachia endeavoured to model them in imitation 
 of the officers of the court of Byzantium. The title 
 of Boyard, if now used, merely siguifies a person of 
 fortune and position. 
 
 THE LOWER TOWN. 
 
 The lower town of Galatz—the busy, commercial 
 portion of the city—presents as yet no softening 
 grace to diminish the squalid appearance of the 
 streets and lanes, although the water-supply, and 
 the lighting by petroleum, have of late years greatly 
 improved the general condition of the inhabitants. 
 One progress along the quays is enough to satisfy the 
 
THE LOWER TOWN OF GALATZ. 
 
 15 
 
 curiosity of a stranger, and it is a real relief to reach 
 the great wood-yards at the further limit of the 
 town, where the vast ‘schleps’ are lying, moored to 
 the river bank. 1 These schleps are immense lighters 
 used for shipping corn; they have three and some¬ 
 times, four powerful cranes rising from the flat decks, 
 which are not furnished with any sort of bulwark, so 
 that when the people living on board happen to have 
 children with them, the poor little things pass their 
 infancy at the end of a rope or chain for safety. 
 
 Turning upwards from the Danube, and reaching 
 the summit of the cliff, from which you gain a good 
 view of the Upper Town—still rising gently towards 
 the deep cutting that serves as a barrier—you are 
 struck with its leafy appearance ; the streets are very 
 wide, and the cottages, neatly white-washed and 
 thatched, or covered with a plank roofing, stand with 
 their gable ends outwards, within the little garden or 
 orchard, which gives a very pastoral character to the 
 more distant quarters of the city, but on reaching 
 the barriers you are amazed to find that almost all 
 the sylvan charms of the neighbourhood are contained 
 within the limits of the city; beyond, extends the 
 
 1 One great and recent improvement in Galatz has been the 
 building of a fine stone quay, to which vessels cau now he moored. 
 
16 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 treeless, almost boundless plain, with here and there 
 a ‘ horde!,’ scarcely distinguishable but for their great 
 bundles of dry reeds. These bordeis are small under¬ 
 ground dwellings; coming upon them from behind, 
 you may simply observe a slight rise in the ground, 
 and walk over the turf-covered roof without being 
 aware of it, unless warned by smoke from the short, 
 shapeless clay chimney. A door leading into a passage 
 sloping downwards, three or four irregular holes for 
 windows, and a few feet of mud wall, are all that 
 constitute the outward appearance of this primitive 
 hut; and yet in former times of trouble in this much 
 troubled land, which for five centuries served as a 
 battle-field for all the restless neighbouring races, the 
 lords of the soil themselves had often no better 
 dwelling, forced to burrow in the earth like hunted 
 animals, through dread of the constant invasions of 
 the Tartar hordes. 
 
 CAPUT BOVIS. 
 
 There is a favourite drive from Galatz, on the 
 road towards Ibraila ; the spot—known to the people 
 here as ‘ Capi di Bovb,’ and Barboshi; to antiquarians 
 as Caput Bovis—is said to be the remains of an 
 ancient Roman fortress. 
 
CAPUT BOVIS. 
 
 17 
 
 The way leads past a curious-looking group of 
 fifteen or twenty wells, standing together in a little 
 dell, worked by the primitive method of beam and 
 counterpoise. Half a mile beyond these wells you 
 reach a great grassy mound crowning a huge bluff 
 of earth* overhanging the valley of the Sereth ; this is 
 the Caput Bovis, and the walls that formerly defended 
 the stronghold may be still quite distinctly traced. 
 
 Considering the national reverence for the memory 
 of Trajan, it is not astonishing that this interesting 
 ruin should be considered as of his foundation; but 
 a most excellent authority on these matters judges, 
 from coins and other relics found in abundance in 
 the mound, that the place was alternately held by 
 a Milesian colony, by the Romans, the Goths and 
 other barbarians, the Genoese, and by the Turks, 
 who took the stones of it to build the fortress of 
 Ibraila. These ancient stones now serve the ignoble 
 purpose of paving the streets of that town. 
 
 Amongst the antiquarian treasures found at Caput 
 Bovis may be mentioned (besides a vast number 
 of coins), an inscribed marble slab, a statue of 
 Ceres, a bronze Mercury, a marble hand of exquisite 
 beauty, many funereal ornaments, colonettes, capitals 
 of pillars, and bas-reliefs. 
 
18 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 From the summit of the mound, a splendid 
 panoramic view is obtained of the surrounding 
 country; you look down upon the Sereth, in many 
 a silvery winding, until it falls into the Danube, 
 forming the boundary between Moldavia and Wal- 
 lacliia ; the course of the mighty river can be traced 
 (looking upwards) until it melts into the softest, 
 tenderest tones of distant land and sky; or, following 
 the downward current, you watch it flowing towards 
 the delta of the Danube, that paradise of sportsmen 
 and botanists, a wild ‘ No-man’s-land,’ where pelicans, 
 and black and white swans, cormorants, wild geese, 
 ducks, and myriads of rare kind of aquatic fowl, 
 live amongst wonderful lilies, gigantic flowering 
 reeds, delicate plants and glowing blossoms, rarely 
 met with in any other spot. 
 
 Many earth mounds, scattered over the immense 
 plain which separates the shores of the Danube from 
 the distant Carpathians, have excited the attention 
 of the curious and the cupidity of treasure-seekers, 
 but they have never yet been found to contain any¬ 
 thing worth the trouble of the search; several have 
 been opened without result, and it is generally 
 concluded that, placed as they are in these steppes, 
 where the smallest moving object can be detected 
 
CAPUT BOYIS. 
 
 19 
 
 at a great distance, these tumuli were merely used 
 as outposts and places of observation. 
 
 These vast Roumanian plains, so infinitely dreary 
 when seen from the lower level of a Danube steamer, 
 have, from the higher ground above Barboshi, an 
 undeniable charm of colouring and suggestion ; far 
 beyond the long horizontal lines of the treeless 
 steppe ; beyond the melting purple and gold and 
 tender blue of the extreme distance, the shadowy 
 majesty of the Carpathians raises visions of the 
 beautiful mountain scenery, the forest-clothed gorges, 
 the rocks and dark ravines, the sunny pasture-lands 
 and flowering meadows, amongst which the traveller 
 will find the most interesting features of Roumanian 
 scenery. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 WINTER ON THE DANUBE. 
 
 Extreme Cold—Icy Marvels—The Singers of ‘ Kolindes ’■—Bless¬ 
 ing the Danube—A Motley Crowd-—Sheepskin Coats—The 
 Procession of the Churches—The Service and the Struggles 
 for the Cross—for the Evergreen—and for the Water—Many 
 Churches, but poor Congregations—Supposed Burial-place of 
 Mazeppa—Eunereal Customs—Elaborate Preparations—Un¬ 
 seemly Hilarity—The Procession is formed—Starts—Stops 
 • again—Friends ask forgiveness of the Deceased—Survival 
 of many Heathen Customs—Illumination of the Cemeteries. 
 
 The winter season in this part of Europe is usually 
 extremely severe, for the winds that rush unchecked 
 by any mountain range over the vast snowy steppes 
 of Russia bring to the great plains of the Lower 
 Danube an intensity of cold rarely, if ever, ex¬ 
 perienced in our more northerly England. The Black 
 Sea at this time is frozen for several miles’ distance 
 from the shore, and the river flows beneath a thick 
 crust of solid ice ; carriages are abandoned for sleighs ; 
 
THE BLESSING OF THE DANUBE. 
 
 21 
 
 ponderous icicles hang from every available point, 
 even from the noses of the toiling cattle, reaching 
 nearly to the ground; trees are transformed into 
 gigantic girandoles wreathed with chains and sprays 
 of unset diamonds; and woe! to the lagging, ice¬ 
 bound'vessel, with spars and rigging heavily decked 
 with the fairy-like but fatal jewellery, for it incurs 
 serious risk of capsizing beneath the weight of its 
 adornments. 
 
 Amongst the icy marvels of the Christmas season, 
 the ceremony of the Blessing of the Danube on 
 the Festival of the Epiphany is not the least 
 interesting. It was formerly the custom to erect a 
 scaffolding on the frozen river, supporting a large 
 cross of ice. The crowd assembled round the foot 
 of the platform, taking part in the religious cere¬ 
 mony ; but frequent accidents occurred, owing to 
 the too great strain upon the ice, and the platform 
 is now raised on the border of the quay. 
 
 The sun shone brightly on the morning of the 
 (Greek) Epiphany, and the streets of Galatz were 
 filled with streams of people moving towards the 
 spot on which the altar and the cross had been 
 prepared. On the eve of the festival, as also on 
 Christmas Eve, bands of men and boys had paraded 
 
22 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 the town, dressed as for a masquerade, and singing 
 carols, called here ‘ Ivolindes.’ Some wore fantastic 
 turbans of coloured paper; others displayed a gro¬ 
 tesque imitation of a military costume ; all carried 
 long white wands and (for the Eve of the Epiphany) 
 enormous paper stars, which were illuminated at 
 night. These singers of £ Ivolindes ’ follow a custom 
 that dates back for centuries; they are supposed to 
 represent the three kings on their journey towards 
 Bethlehem—Pontius Pilate, Herod, and the Roman 
 soldiers are also there, besides other historical person¬ 
 ages, added according to the resources of the little 
 band of actors. They wander from house to house 
 and sing their Noels in the large halls of the principal 
 mansions. 
 
 From a window overlooking the landing-stage of 
 the steamers we can look down upon the large open 
 space where the altar and the cross had been raised, 
 and upon the crowd of spectators, orderly, but 
 uninteresting. It is composed of Moldavians and 
 Wallachians, Greeks, Jews, Bulgarians, and Le¬ 
 vantines. Here and there the picturesque element 
 comes in, in the form of an £ ancient Roman,’ a 
 peasant from the wide plains beyond the town, or 
 perhaps from the more distant slopes of the Car- 
 
PROCESSION OF THE CHURCHES. 
 
 23 
 
 pathians, in all the antique simplicity of sheepskin 
 coat, lambskin-cap, black elf-locks, and sandals. And 
 one not-to-be-forgotten figure, its head swathed in a 
 dark shawl, wears a vast sheepskin coat, embroidered 
 in colours on all the seams, with lofty jack-boots that 
 are wading valiantly through the mud-pools—they 
 say it is an old woman. 
 
 The approach is lined for a short distance b}” 
 Moldavian troops. The officers are smoking cigar¬ 
 ettes, and contemplate with satisfaction four small 
 cannon, representing the artillery for this occasion. 
 
 There is a stir of excitement amongst the crowd, 
 and several carriages drive up bearing eight or ten 
 of the notabilities of the town, including the Mayor, 
 the Prefect, and some officers; they ascend the 
 steps of the platform. Next arrives the procession 
 of all the churches. The large crosses lead the way, 
 followed by the banners and the principal pictures 
 of each church; they are carried up, with some 
 difficulty, to be sprinkled and blessed; finally, the 
 priests mount to the altar and the service commences. 
 
 During half-an-liour the chanting is heard, then 
 the crowd begins to move. There is a rush for the 
 border of the quay; a small cross has been thrown 
 into the Danube; the cannon thunders three times, 
 
24 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 to the great delight of the crowd and the consterna- 
 tion of the dogs ; the cross has been quickly recovered 
 by a boy who has waited in readiness for hours 
 knee-deep in the river slime under the wall of the 
 quay. The ceremony is over ; happily without blood¬ 
 shed, for the struggle to possess these crosses often 
 causes fatal mischief; knives are drawn and used 
 without scruple, so that in many places along the 
 river the observance of this custom of Blessing the 
 Danube is now forbidden, especially in those towns 
 where the religious feud between Bulgarians and 
 Greeks is ready at any moment to burst into active 
 hostilities. 
 
 As the crowd disperses the accessories of the 
 festival can be examined; the platform has been 
 roughly put together, and the large cross, formed 
 of coarse white marble in default . of ice (for this 
 winter has been, hitherto, exceptionally mild), sur¬ 
 mounts a small altar, and bears in the centre a 
 rudely-cut head of the Saviour; a pattern in green 
 paint runs over the marble, a bunch of evergreens 
 is placed at the head, and a lump of earth with 
 green sprouting corn (symbolical of the Resur¬ 
 rection) stands on either arm of the cross. On 
 the right and left some yards of calico display 
 
HOLY WATER. 
 
 25 
 
 pictures intended to represent the Baptism of Our 
 
 Lord. 
 
 The people passing up and down the platform 
 cross themselves, and kiss first the cross, then each 
 of the pictures in turn, after which they struggle 
 to obtain si sprig of the evergreen; this leads to 
 some fighting and cuffing of heads. Two coarse 
 wooden barrels at the head of the steps contain 
 the water of the Danube that has been blessed. 
 The devotees drink of this, and take away in bottles 
 as much as they can carry; a provision of the 
 water has already been made by the churches for 
 use in baptisms. Finally, all religious duties accom¬ 
 plished, the crowd indulges in an animated contest 
 for the possession of the remainder of the green 
 bough, blows are showered about with unchecked 
 freedom, and it is with the utmost difficulty that 
 the precious bottles are saved from destruction. 
 
 Galatz can boast of a great number of churches, 
 but, excepting at the times of the great festivals, 
 they are but poorly attended, and yet the building 
 of new churches is being carried on with surprising 
 activity in all quarters of the town. There are 
 churches of all denominations—Roumanian, Bul¬ 
 garian, Greek, Latin, French, Armenian, German, 
 
26 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 and others ; the Jews—a very numerous class— 
 have a most beautiful synagogue; and the Lipovans, 
 a mysterious sect emigrated from Russia, possess 
 a building which displays on the summit of the 
 cupola a cross of a peculiar form, a smaller bar 
 above the usual horizontal bar of the Latin cross. 
 No stranger is allowed to enter this church, and 
 it is not known how or where the Lipovans bury 
 their dead. Many masons and common workmen, 
 besides the greater number of coachmen and drivers, 
 belong to this sect; they live mostly about the 
 neighbourhood of their church. 
 
 In the ancient church of St. George was formerly 
 to be seen (according to some authorities) the burial- 
 place of Mazeppa; others maintain that his tomb 
 was found in another no less venerable monument; 
 but all are agreed that the celebrated Pole, after 
 the wild career immortalized by Byron and by 
 Horace Vernet, became ‘ Hetman ; of the Cossacks 
 who had saved his life; that he afterwards took 
 service under Charles XII. of Sweden, and came 
 into Moldavia in the train of that Prince after 
 the battle of Pultowa. It is further said that he 
 fixed his residence at Galatz, founded a monastery 
 in the neighbourhood, and finally died there in 
 
FUNEREAL CUSTOMS. 
 
 27 
 
 peace and was buried ; but his remains were not 
 suffered to repose undisturbed, his tomb was rifled 
 by the Russians, the ashes dispersed, and the monu¬ 
 mental stone carried away to Bender in Bessarabia. 
 
 FUNEREAL CUSTOMS. 
 
 Many of the funereal customs still in use amongst 
 Roumanians of the humbler class had their origin in 
 paganism; they are, at the 
 present day, a strange mix¬ 
 ture of superstition, levity, 
 and devotion, and may be 
 best described as witnessed 
 by the author some time 
 since in Galatz. 
 
 It was a poor cottage 
 upon which I looked down, 
 attracted by the appearance 
 of a long white cloth that 
 had been hung upon the door-post—this is an in¬ 
 timation of a death in the house. I learned that 
 an old man had passed away during the night, and 
 they are now preparing for the funeral, which is to 
 be very handsome, and the survivors will doubtless 
 
28 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 expend upon this occasion all that the old man may 
 have left. 
 
 The coffin has been brought out and placed upon 
 trestles in the yard; it is of red velvet lined with 
 white, and the neighbours cluster round and gaze 
 admiringly into it. Some dirty little boys are 
 tumbling about on the skirts of the crowd in a state 
 of great exhilaration, for there will be music with the 
 procession, and a feast afterwards, to say nothing of 
 the funeral cakes for which they will scramble around 
 the grave in unchecked spirits. Just now they are 
 dancing or fighting, according to the humour of the 
 moment, and are occasionally knocked down by a 
 decrepit sort of policeman, but no one else heeds the 
 w T ant of decorum, and other occupants of the untidy 
 littered yard have caught the excitement of the 
 moment. The pigs root about more energetically ; 
 the fowls are in commotion; and even a stray dog 
 is leaping over the fence and back again, as if 
 his performances were an essential feature of the 
 entertainment. 
 
 The priests have now arrived; a numerous band 
 of musicians forms round the entrance-gate with 
 trumpet, French horn, and other vigorous musical 
 instruments ; the performers wearing bright-coloured 
 
FUNEREAL CUSTOMS. 
 
 29 
 
 scarves streaming from one shoulder, and most of 
 the mourners displaying a large white towel on the 
 right arm. 
 
 They had taken the coffin into the house, and now 
 they place it once more on the trestles, with the poor 
 corpse—-the face, uncovered—dressed in the best holi¬ 
 day suit. The friends gather round to kiss the dead 
 and to bid him farewell, and as the coffin is borne 
 away some of the mourners utter piercing shrieks ; 
 the widow in real grief is weeping bitterly and silently 
 outside the circle. 
 
 The procession is formed ; a large cross is borne in 
 front; then the lid of the coffin, followed by boys, 
 bearing various church emblems. On a long board 
 carried by two men the funeral cakes are placed, 
 covered by a white cloth ; a cluster of wax-lights 
 comes next, and finally the open bier; all the 
 mourners carry tapers. 
 
 The procession halts outside the gate, and the 
 screams and leave-taking are renewed. When it moves 
 forward it is followed by the band; they are giving 
 some air from an opera. The funeral stops at the 
 corner of the first street; the bier is set down, and 
 the mourners in turn ask pardon of the deceased for 
 any past offence. They renew this ceremony at every 
 
30 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 turning and cross road throughout the long and 
 circuitous way by which they arrive at the church. 
 
 At one part of the burial service wine is poured 
 into the grave, and the cakes are distributed, on 
 which the boys and idlers hovering around commence 
 a most unseemly struggle for the pieces, rolling over 
 each other on the ground, crossing themselves, eating 
 and fighting all at once. 
 
 When a sick person is supposed to be at the point 
 of death, a lighted taper is forced into the hand, or 
 held there; other tapers are lighted while the prayers 
 are chanted, and the priests appear far more anxious 
 to carry through these ceremonies than to allow of any 
 effort to recover the patient. A charitable and ener¬ 
 getic lady relates how, during the visitation of a fearful 
 epidemic, she found a sick woman thus being lighted 
 out of the world, without any attempt at remedy 
 having been made. The visitor wished to try her 
 well-known skill; the priest implored her to let the 
 sufferer die in £>eace, but the lady insisted, told the 
 priest that his valuable services were required else¬ 
 where, finally gained her point, and in a few days 
 restored the poor woman in health to her young family. 
 
 A small piece of money is always placed in the 
 hand of a corpse, or fixed to the taper which is put 
 
ROUMANIAN CROSSES. 
 
 31 
 
 into the coffin ; and the stone cross at the head of the 
 grave is made with a niche to receive a lamp as well 
 as the little cakes which the mourners do not fail to 
 provide for the journey of their departed friend. The 
 lamps are lighted during the night following the 
 festival of All Saints. This illumination of the ceme¬ 
 teries produces a startling and extraordinary effect, 
 the lights shining through a tangled wilderness of 
 
 briars and rank weeds, amongst which the crosses, 
 leaning in every direction out of the perpendicular, 
 are half-buried. 
 
 These Roumanian crosses are of infinite variety 
 and most fantastic designs; most are in wood, the 
 rounded monuments only being made occasionally in 
 stone. Similar gravestones are to be seen in Mace¬ 
 donia, where there exist numerous Wallachian colonies. 
 
 Cakes of boiled wheat, walnuts, and honey, covered 
 and ornamented with sugar, are sent to the friends of 
 
32 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 the dead person, after having been exposed in the 
 church for several days; this is repeated at the end 
 of one month, of six weeks, and of three months. 
 On the anniversary of the funeral, the family give 
 alms to the poor, and assemble all the relations to a 
 great feast, comprising a very large funeral cake, of 
 which each one must eat a portion. 
 
 An old custom, still occasionally observed, obliges 
 the friends to disinter a body after seven years of 
 burial. If the usual decay has not taken place, it is 
 a sign of excommunication, requiring fresh devotions 
 and donations to the Church ; if all is well, the bones 
 are collected, washed in wine, placed in a white satin 
 bag, and re-interred. This exhumation is now rarely 
 practised unless a very near relation is to be buried 
 in the same grave. 
 
* CHAPTER III. 
 
 BALLADS AND POPULAR SUPERSTITIONS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 Alecsandri’s Poems and Legends—Veneration for the Memory of 
 Trajan—Hai'duks— Mihou—Chalga—The Little Lamb of 
 Birsa—The Shadow — Dolka—-The Familiar Serpent—An 
 uncanny Egg—Superstitions — Stafii—Vampires — Balauri— 
 Zmei—Manol the Mason and his Young Wife—The sinister 
 Measuring Wand. 
 
 The legendary ballads and national songs of 
 Roumania are almost unknown in Europe; they are 
 scarcely more familiar to the higher classes of their 
 native country ; but the old superstitions and weird 
 fantastic creeds—many of them of pagan origin— 
 have been perpetuated and kept alive amongst the 
 peasantry of the mountain districts, from whom they 
 were, with long and patient research, at length 
 collected in a chaplet of exquisite little poems by 
 the native poet Alecsandri, who also published, a 
 few years later, an admirable French translation. 
 
 Alecsandri was greatly indebted also to the gipsy 
 minstrels—the Tsiganes-—for much of the legendary 
 
34 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 lore preserved in liis £ ballads,’ which have made his 
 name famous in Europe. Ubicini, in his introduction 
 to the little volume, says, £ The Tsiganes went from 
 place to place reciting or chanting poems, of which 
 the authors have remained unknown ; that no hand 
 has hitherto attempted to transcribe ; and which have 
 been transmitted from mouth to mouth, from one 
 generation to another, throughout the ages.’ 
 
 When the Tsiganes were liberated from slavery in 
 1844, Alecsandri celebrated the event in patriotic 
 and stirring lines, which laid the foundation of his 
 renown. Many of the local superstitions form the 
 subject of verses which, even in the French rendering, 
 are wonderfully touching and attractive; in the 
 original Rouman, with all their charming diminutives 
 and poetical modes of expression, they must be 
 extremely beautiful. 
 
 Some of the pieces in the collection are touching 
 and tender, others ablaze with martial ardour, while 
 many also embody wild and fantastic legends and 
 beliefs, derived from the ancient race, whose descend¬ 
 ants still linger amidst the valleys and mountain 
 slopes of the Carpathians, with little change in 
 language, dress, or manners since Trajan led his 
 colonists into Dacia more than eighteen centuries ago. 
 
VENERATION OF TRAJAN. 
 
 35 
 
 This Roman origin, on which the Roumanians 
 pride themselves, is a frequent theme of these songs 
 of the people. It is a national weakness to ascribe 
 everything to Trajan, even to the Milky Way, which 
 they call ‘ Trajan’s Road,’ and thunder ‘ Trajan’s 
 Voice.’ They preserve also the memory of many 
 Roman and heathen rites in the simple usages and 
 superstitions of their daily life. 
 
 Driven for refuge to the almost inaccessible gorges 
 of the Carpathians that bound the broad and fertile 
 plains of Moldavia and Wallachia, or hidden in his 
 ‘ borde'i ’ within the earth, the representative of the 
 old Dacians and of Trajan’s colonists mourned his 
 sorrows in sad poetic dirges, or revived his courage 
 by the recital of heroic deeds, of which the honours 
 are equally shared between the ‘ haiduk ’ and his 
 marvellous little Boudjak steed, ‘rapid as lightning 
 and burning with energy and pride.’ In the patriotic 
 war-songs of the collection, fierce deeds of super¬ 
 human daring and incredible physical endurance hold 
 the highest place; and the most warmly praised 
 adventures have an undeniable character of 
 brigandage, the natural result of the past history 
 of a country condemned for centuries to suffer from 
 the invasion of neighbouring hordes, and to serve 
 
3 G 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 as the battlefield of all the warlike tribes of Eastern 
 Europe. 
 
 There is unflinching bravery depicted in these 
 national ballads; bravery rushing headlong on de¬ 
 struction. But stern faith to the plighted word— 
 the heroism preferring death to dishonourable safety 
 —finds no place among the virtues extolled in them ; 
 their greatest heroes, who endure unspeakable tortures 
 with a smile, will escape by a lie and a base, cruel 
 treachery at the first opportunity. There is passion 
 also and tenderness, but no trace of the deep, pure 
 love that thrills in the pathos of such simple lines 
 as ‘The Land-o’-the Leal,’ ‘John Anderson,’ and in 
 hundreds of the touching ballads of our own country. 
 Neither is there a vestige of religious feeling ; no 
 hope of any future superior to the happiness of 
 wandering amongst the flowery meadows and rippling 
 fountains of the Carpathians, or of revelling in the 
 rich treasures of corn and wine, of milk and honey, 
 that abound in the fertile plains watered by the 
 Seretli and the Danube. 
 
 The ‘ haiduks,’ or brigands, whose adventures have 
 inspired the greater number of these ballads, are 
 painted with a singular mixture of ferocity and of 
 pastoral grace; of atrocious crimes and of austere 
 
A KOUMAN ORPHEUS. 
 
 37 
 
 devotion. Thus, Mihou comes on the scene, drawing 
 from his small shepherd’s reed, his ‘kobouz,’ sounds 
 of such unearthly sweetness that ‘ the eagles collect 
 and draw near; the tall pine trees wave and bend to 
 listen ; the leaves murmur gently; the stars in the 
 firmament pause in their onward course.’ A certain 
 Hungarian, Janok, bids this Rouman Orpheus to a 
 banquet. Mihou accepts the invitation, but at the 
 end of the repast—which has lasted ‘the whole day 
 until the evening ’—the two ‘ braves ’ fall into 
 dispute. Mihou cuts off the head of his entertainer, 
 and, casting his weapon on the ground, defies the 
 spectators to raise it. No one has sufficient strength, 
 and with words of bitter scorn the brigand majestic¬ 
 ally withdraws, ‘ filling the forest as he goes with 
 the enchanting notes of his “kobouz.”’ 
 
 Another hero who has slain with his merciless 
 battle-axe a whole innocent family—father, mother, 
 and children—discovers one of his gang engaged in 
 devouring the murdered housewife’s store of butter; 
 it was a fast day. c Impious pagan ! ’ cries the out¬ 
 raged chief, ‘ hast thou then no fear of God, thus to 
 eat butter on a Friday ! ’ 
 
 The shepherdesses of Roumania rival (in these 
 legends) the intrepidity of the £ haiduks.’ The young 
 
38 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 and beautiful Chalga, rich in the possession of vast 
 flocks and herds, hears in the night the warning 
 signal of an attack upon her sheepfolds. 
 
 Chalga. 
 
 The ballad opens thus—• 
 
 On the high bank of the Danube, at midnight, 
 the ‘ ha'iduks ’ have come to the sheepfolds of Chalga; 
 they have come; they have stopped, and, armed with 
 their long ‘ paloches,’ they have tied up the shepherds 
 and killed the dogs. 
 
 The chief shepherd they have tied more strongly 
 than the rest; his elbows meet behind his back, and 
 the sufferer utters this piteous prayer, £ Captain 
 Caracatouch, chief of the “ ha'iduks! ” thou who 
 commandest five thousand and five of the bravest ! 
 —if thou hast ever done a good action in thy life, 
 take pity on me and loose my arms, for I suffer 
 horribly.’ 
 
 The captain hears, and takes pity; he cuts the 
 thongs; but the instant he is free, the chief 
 shepherd takes from his breast a gilded ‘ boutchoum ,’ 1 
 
 1 The ‘ boutchoum ’ is a long pipe of cherry-wood, from which 
 the shepherds in the mountains draw powerful sounds, that may 
 be heard for several leagues, using it for signalling to each other. 
 
CHALGA. 
 
 39 
 
 and breathes through it sounds so touching, that the 
 valleys ring with them, the leaves on the trees 
 tremble, the waters of the Danube boil, and fish 
 rise to the surface. 
 
 The young Chalga, aroused from sleep by these 
 plaintive notes, rises, and thus speaks to her mother— 
 
 ‘ Beloved mother ! hast thou not heard the sounds of 
 the “ boutchoum ” echoing from the distant valley ? 
 I know not, my mother, if the flocks have strayed 
 from the shepherds, or if they have lost the road 
 in the gloom of night; perhaps they are attacked 
 by the “ ha'iduks.” ’ 
 
 The aged mother makes answer— £ Go, sleep in 
 peace, dear child, and be not anxious for the shep¬ 
 herds ; it is their custom to sound these plaintive 
 notes when they think of their distant homes.’ 
 
 But scarcely had she spoken, when Chalga hears 
 again the voice of the £ boutchoum,’ sounding 
 strongly, and piercing the soul. 
 
 £ Hola, my young men! hola, my servants ! 
 arouse ! ’ she cries ; £ tear yourselves from sleep, and 
 saddle quickly my horse; put on him a man’s 
 saddle, for I will mount like a warrior! ’ 
 
 In the Middle Ages, the ‘ boutchoum ’ sounded the note of war to 
 the Roumanian troops. 
 
40 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN liOUMANIA. 
 
 She speaks—she mounts—she flies towards the 
 Danube, uttering fierce war cries, and brandishing 
 an enormous ‘ bousdoujou .’ 1 
 
 The brigands fly before her; their captain, 
 Caracatouch, seized with terror, dashes onwards 
 without looking back. But Chalga is here, is there, 
 is everywhere at once; nearer now ! nearer still ! 
 at full speed, with one stroke the brigand’s head 
 flies off and remains behind, while the bleeding 
 trunk continues its flight. The ballad finishes thus— 
 ‘ They say, brother, yes they say, that from that 
 night when the bold “ ha'fduks ” visit the mountain- 
 side, they never lose their way and wander from 
 the road ; they never more will come to the full 
 sheepfolds of the beautiful Chalga ! ’ 
 
 The praises of Michael the Brave, Stephen the 
 Great, Brancovano, and of many other heroes of 
 Roumanian story, are sung in lines of wonderful 
 energy and power. One ballad, or rather war-song, 
 ‘ Stephen issuing from the gates of Suciava ’ (the 
 ancient capital of Moldavia), is one of the most 
 admired. 
 
 Interwoven with recitals of bloodshed and battle, 
 are found tender little idyls of exquisite grace and 
 1 ‘Bousdoujou’—an iron club (Ubicini). 
 
CHALGA. 
 
 41 
 
 pathos— c The little lamb of Birsa ’ is the pearl of 
 the collection. It contains the poetical superstition 
 which holds that the destiny of a star is attached 
 to the life of every Kouman; that it becomes pale 
 and clouded when he is threatened by misfortune, 
 and drops from the firmament at the moment of 
 his death. 
 
 c A little lamb,’ says this charming pastoral, ‘ with 
 fleece white as fresh fallen snow, and glossy as the 
 finest silk, will no longer taste the tender grass of 
 the meadow; it moans and laments with piteous 
 wailing.’ The shepherd questions it, and learns that 
 two young herdsmen-Ahis companions, have plotted 
 his assassination. The shepherd quietly resigns him¬ 
 self to destiny, but he charges his pet lamb to 
 make his grave ‘ within the fold, ... or near to. the 
 pastures, that I may always hear the voice of my 
 dogs. . . . Then thou wilt lay at the head of my 
 resting-place a little flute of elm wood yielding 
 notes of love; a little flute of bone with a voice 
 of soft harmony ; a little flute of elder-bough with 
 tones of passionate regret; and the wind shall 
 breathe through the reeds sad and plaintive sounds, 
 and quickly shall my flock gather around .my tomb, 
 to weep for me with tears of blood. 
 
42 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN EOUMANIA. 
 
 c But never, oh, my little lamb ! speak to them of 
 murder; . . . tell them gently, tenderly, that I am 
 gone to espouse a fair princess ; . . . tell them that 
 at the time of our union a bright star shot down- 
 ■wards into space. . . . 
 
 ‘But shouldst thou see, shouldst thou ever meet, 
 an aged, desolate mother, with a broad girdle of 
 wool, shedding bitter tears, searching the meadows, 
 and asking of all passers-by, Who has seen ? who 
 has met with a shepherd, young and handsome and 
 slender as a reed 1 . . . then, oh my lamb! have 
 pity on her grief, and tell her—only tell her—that 
 I have wedded the daughter of a king, and gone 
 to dwell in a land beautiful as the gates of Paradise. 
 But never tell her, oh, my tender lamb ! that at 
 my nuptials a bright star fell from heaven; that I 
 had for witnesses the pines and the sycamores of 
 the dark forest; for priests, the lofty mountains; 
 for orchestra, thousands of birds ; and for lights, 
 the stars of the bright firmament.’ 
 
 A graceful string of couplets, called La Neluca 
 (the shadow), speaks of the custom followed by 
 women and girls, who fill their ‘ cofitzas ’ at the 
 fountain, when they blow upon the surface of the 
 water in order to break the shadow, and spill some 
 
THE SHADOW. 
 
 43 
 
 of the liquid upon the earth, thus offering an 
 unconscious libation to the nymph of the source. 
 
 Each little poem or set of verses begins with a 
 sort of dedication to some leaf of the forest, which 
 seems entirely unconnected with the subject of the 
 lines to which they are attached; thus in 
 
 THE SHADOW. 
 
 (Nellie a.) 
 
 £ Green leaf of the hazel! ’ 
 
 Mirca, wandering along the hill-side path, meets 
 a young maiden carrying a £ cofitza ’ full of water 
 freshly taken from the fountain. 
 
 £ Stay, young maiden, and let me taste the water 
 in thy cofitza.’ 
 
 £ No, my friend, I will not stay, for I fear the anger 
 of my lover.’ 
 
 £ Fear not, dear child; if thy lover dares to vex 
 thee, I will strike him with my axe, and will bury 
 him, still living, in the dust.’ 
 
 £ Go yonder to the fountain ; thou wilt there find a 
 cofitza filled with water drawn by my hand. Get off 
 thy horse to quench thy thirst ; but before drinking 
 be careful to make the sign of the cross, and to 
 
44 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 blow upon the surface, lest some hidden “ neluca ” 
 should remain there, and thus bewitch the pure water 
 of the spring.’ 
 
 Mirca thanks the maiden, and, advancing to the 
 fountain, finds the ‘ cofitza ’ freshly filled; but he 
 forgets to make the sign of the cross: he forgets 
 to blow upon the liquid surface ! Scarcely has the 
 w 7 ater touched his lips, when he feels a tender 
 longing and regret for the young girl who has 
 passed away! He drinks a second time, and an 
 icy shudder strikes to his heart ! He drinks a third 
 time, and falls dead beside the fountain: he had 
 swallowed a shadow ! 
 
 May it be lost for ever in the depths of the 
 desert! 
 
 Another short string of verses— Dollca —is wonder¬ 
 fully characteristic of the wild mountaineers, the 
 brigand-shepherds of the Carpathians. 
 
 Dolka. 
 
 1 Green leaf of the oak ! ’ 
 
 Are those blossoms newly opened that bespangle 
 the plains of Tuckie ? They are not freshly-opened 
 blossoms; they are the fiocks of Costi—of Costi, 
 who has his sheepfolds on all the swelling hills. 
 
DOLKA. 
 
 45 
 
 To-day it is Monday; it will be Tuesday to¬ 
 morrow, and Costi will go to Galatzi to buy salt 
 for his sheep, bran for his lambs, warm cloaks for 
 his shepherds, and sandals for his servants. 
 
 Now, on the road he meets w T ith Fulga, with 
 the black beard and the light brain. Seeing him, 
 Costi stops and says, ‘Ohd! Fulga, my friend! do 
 what I will tell you. Go quickly to one of my 
 sheepfolds, and take at thy choice three lambs fit 
 for roasting on the spit, and^a fat sheep to boil in 
 the caldron ; it is a present that I make thee for thy 
 supper.’ 
 
 Fulga, with the black beard and the light brain, 
 thanks Costi like a brother, and goes towards the 
 sheepfolds ; but when he sees the sheep he takes off 
 several flocks, and drives them to Pandina. 
 
 Costi, returned from his journey, at once perceives 
 the robbery; he calls his dogs, and distributes 
 amongst them a great salt cheese which he had 
 cut in eighty portions—forty for the old dogs, and 
 forty for the younger; but the dogs eat the cheese, 
 and give no notice of what had occurred. 
 
 But see ! here comes Dolka, very slowly—Dolka, 
 the favourite old dog of Costi, the dog who best 
 knows the duties of her trust; she comes, hesitating, 
 
46 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 ancl making; wide circles around. Costi sees her, and 
 speaks thus— 
 
 ‘ Dolka! my Dolkoutza! wliat has happened to 
 my flocks ? ’ 
 
 At these words the good dog begins to moan 
 softly, and lies down at the feet of her master. 
 
 ‘ My Dolka, thou art old, and thou wast brought 
 up in the sheepfold; I have always loved thee, and 
 have fed thee with milk; how hast thou permitted 
 the robbers to carry away my flocks ? ’ 
 
 Dolka, with a sad cry, shows her wounded paw. 
 
 ‘ Oh ! dear Dolka! my poor Dolkoutza! the vile 
 brigands have wounded thee whilst defending the 
 property of thy master. If this be so, and if thou 
 art always thus faithful and intelligent, go before me, 
 following the trace of the flocks, and conduct me to 
 the haunt of the robbers.’ 
 
 Dolka springs with joy at these words, and starts, 
 burying her nose in the high grass to find the scent 
 of the sheep. The scent is on this side, the scent 
 is on that; Dolka does not for an instant lose the 
 trace, and she reaches at length, followed by her 
 master, the sheepfolds of Pandina. 
 
 What does Costi see ? He sees Fulga preparing 
 his dinner, flaying the lambs; some are roasting on 
 
DOLKA. 
 
 47 
 
 the spit: others boil in the great caldrons. At 
 this sight Dolka, with a furious bark, bounds towards 
 the robber. Fulga trembles with fear, and meeting 
 the eyes of Costi, he becomes black like the trunk 
 of a tree burned by fire. Costi goes straight to the 
 brigand and speaks thus— 
 
 ‘ Oh4! Fulga, with the black beard and the light 
 brain ! when I met thee on my road I made thee 
 a gift of three lambs for the spit, and of a fat 
 sheep for the caldron, and thou, as thanks, thou, 
 like to a wild beast perishing with hunger, thou 
 hast not only carried away my flocks, but thou 
 hast even wounded my good dog Dolka. Stay, 
 brigand of the black beard! I will make thy brain 
 less light! ’ 
 
 With these words he cuts the bandit down with 
 his ‘ paloche,’ tears out his heart, and throws it 
 towards Dolka; but Dolka refuses the loathsome 
 offering. The heart of a traitor is a venomous 
 poison ! 
 
 A superstitious regard for the familiar serpent 
 (serpe di casa ) is not confined to Roumania, but it 
 exists there in full force amongst the country people; 
 and the peasant—above all, the housewife—will 
 abstain with anxious care from injuring the inoffensive 
 
48 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 guest, that issues from its hiding-place among the 
 rafters, to feed at the common platter, like a humble 
 dependant of the family. 
 
 But serpents who make their appearance in an 
 irregular manner are dreaded as messengers of evil 
 omen. A small, badly-formed egg will cause con¬ 
 sternation in a household; the cry of £ serpe, serpe,’ 
 rings through the poultry yard; the uncanny thing 
 is broken, and should the interior disclose a shade or 
 cloud of colour in a twisted form, heavy misfortunes 
 to the family are confidently expected. 
 
 ‘ The Roumanians believe in fairies, in werwolves, 
 vampires, sorcerers, water-spirits, the power of the 
 evil eye, and other phenomena. Sinister demons— 
 the Stafii—are harmful beings, who abide in desolate 
 places, in the midst of ruins, and who wage implac¬ 
 able war with mankind. They are the most danger¬ 
 ous of neighbours, and the unhappy man who may 
 forget their daily supply of food and drink, or the 
 Saturday’s basin of pure water for their ablutions (!) 
 is condemned to feel the effects of their vengeance. 
 There is, however, a remedy, of which the £ pope ’ 
 takes charge. He will bless, in your presence, a small 
 bottle of oil, in which a paper mysteriously folded 
 has been soaked. This paper is fixed on the crown 
 
SUPERNATURAL MONSTERS. 
 
 49 
 
 of the head with seven hairs taken from the spring 
 of the hair on the forehead. In less than three 
 weeks Stafii, or Strigoi (vampires), will have ceased 
 their pursuit. 
 
 The £ Balauri/ whose jaws reach to heaven and 
 earth, are endowed with such wonderful vitality, 
 that, when cut to pieces by the legendary heroes, 
 with whom they maintain a perpetual warfare, the 
 detached pieces are in vivid movement, and seek to 
 reunite, as long as the sun remains above the 
 horizon. 
 
 The £ Zmei ’ are another sort of monster, of super¬ 
 natural strength and size, and furnished with im¬ 
 mense wings. They dwell in the centre of the earth, 
 or in the depths of impenetrable forests, where they 
 conceal their treasures, as also the maidens of royal 
 race whom they have carried off. According to another 
 belief, widely credited, precious stones are formed of 
 the saliva of serpents, so that their nests, if dis¬ 
 covered, should contain incalculable riches. 
 
 But the most terrible of all these superstitions 
 —that which declares no building secure unless a 
 human life be walled up in the foundations (a super¬ 
 stition to be met with, under various forms, in other 
 
 countries)—supplies the subject of the touching and 
 
 a 
 
50 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 remarkable ballad called Manol the Mason, which is 
 not unknown in France and England. 
 
 The legend tells how Manoli, a renowned architect 
 and master mason, was required by Prince Rudolph 
 the Black (Radu Negru) to undertake, at Curte 
 d’Argis, in Wallachia, the building of a monastery 
 and church, intended to surpass all others in magnifi¬ 
 cence. Manoli assembles his workmen, and the work 
 is commenced, bat an evil influence overshadows the 
 undertaking ; each morning the first beams of the 
 sun discover the crumbled ruins of the labours of 
 the previous day. Manoli calls his men in council, 
 and proposes, as a supreme resource, a vow that the 
 first woman who shall, on the next day, approach 
 the spot, shall be sacrificed to the solidity of the 
 monument. 
 
 Then Manoli is struck with remorse and dread. 
 In accents of agonized tenderness, he implores the 
 pity of the Almighty for his young wife, who is 
 accustomed to come, with others, to bring the day’s 
 food to the workers. He prays that the , elements 
 may be unchained to render her advance impossible. 
 His prayer is heard ; the winds in furious hurricane 
 rend the trees of the sombre forest; the tempest 
 sweeps the plain ; the waters of the river swell and, 
 
MANOL THE MASON. 
 
 5 L 
 
 foaming, inundate the banks. In vain!—nothing 
 stays the advance of the destined victim ; the love 
 of the young wife, by miracles of courage and en¬ 
 durance, surmounts every obstacle. She reaches at 
 length the fatal spot, and her martyrdom begins; but 
 she smiles at first—‘ They do but jest, surely, they 
 do but jest! ’ to prove once more her constancy and 
 faith ! 
 
 The wall rises ! the smile fades, as an icy fear is 
 creeping round her heart! The wall rises !—higher ! 
 higher ! but the trembling lips of the wife still mur¬ 
 mur words of love, till with a cry of supreme agony 
 they implore—‘ Manoli! oh, my lord Manoli! ’ to 
 have compassion on the unborn infant, that the 
 stones, ‘ ah ! the great cruel stones ! ’ crush within 
 her bosom. 
 
 The wall still rises. With mad frenzy the work 
 goes on, and soon there is no sound but the murmur 
 of a feeble wail within the masonry. The sacrifice 
 is consummated, and the building stands complete, 
 a miracle of symmetry and majestic beauty. Prince 
 Rudolph decrees that it shall be unique; and he 
 dooms the architect to destruction. The master 
 mason and his workmen are on a pinnacle of the 
 building, accessible only from without; the scaffoldings 
 
 E 2 
 
52 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMAN1A. 
 
 are suddenly removed, and the whole band, after 
 crying in vain for mercy, lash themselves to planks 
 in order to break their fall. As Manoli springs from 
 the tower, a plaintive lamentation from within the 
 wall strikes on his heart; he misses his aim, and 
 falls to the earth, dead. His companions, dashed 
 to pieces, are changed into stones, and from the spot 
 on which Manoli fell bursts forth a fountain of 
 water, clear as crystal, but ‘ salt and bitter—water 
 mingled with tears—with bitter tears ! ’ 
 
 It is said that even in the present day, in the 
 remote towns and villages of Ron mania, masons still 
 hold this superstition, and endeavour to work out 
 the charm in a figurative manner. They believe that 
 every monument and building in stone is haunted 
 by a ‘ stable ’—the spirit of the person sacrificed (in 
 imagination) to ensure the stability of the structure. 
 The masons, while laying the foundations, watch for 
 the opportunity of measuring with a wand the 
 shadow of some passer-by; this measure is then 
 built into the wall, with the conviction that the 
 unconscious victim of the artifice must perish within 
 forty days, and become a ‘ staliied 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE MONASTERY OF ADAM AND JASSY. 
 
 At Berlad—Jewish Coachmen—Arrival at the Monastery—Mo¬ 
 nastic Cottages—Our good ‘ Maica ’—The Mother Superior— 
 Costume of the Nuns—Visits—Pretty Dwellings and Industry 
 of the Maicas—Impoverishment of the Beligious Communities 
 —The Procession—Great Antiquity of Jassy—Beautiful 
 Church of the Trei Jerahi—Delicate Lace in Stone—Careful 
 Eestoration of the Monument. 
 
 It was in June, 1884, that we three ladies, Mrs. 
 
 N-, F-, and I, reached the little railway- 
 
 station at Berlad—the terminus of a branch line, 
 near the eastern frontier of Moldavia. We were 
 accompanied by M. Barnescu, whose services as 
 interpreter had been kindly lent by a friend at 
 Bukurest. Our appearance outside the little station 
 
54 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 created at once a scene of excitement and noisy 
 competition amongst a crowd ot the Jew drivers of 
 dilapidated carriages, waiting to carry passengers 
 onwards. With much disputing, and many feints of 
 a lofty power of choice (where, for badness, there was 
 nothing to choose from), and of superb indifference 
 to offers on the part of the drivers, a bargain is at 
 length struck, for a shaky little vehicle, with its four 
 small horses, harnessed abreast, in the manner of the 
 country. 
 
 We start wdth a great rattle of chain and rope 
 harness; the jangle of the tin pail, hitched on 
 behind for watering the horses, and a feeling of 
 impending dislocation of the luggage, which bad 
 beginning reaches a climax when, shortly afterwards, 
 we stop in the little town for refreshment; and the 
 driver, encouraged by a friend more evil-looking 
 than himself, makes a fresh demand, and begins to 
 deposit our boxes in the mud. More bargaining ; 
 fresh, inevitable concessions, and we are once more 
 on our way to Adam, a monastery among the hills a 
 few hours’ distance from the railway. 
 
 This small trial, of bargaining against the bad 
 faith of the Jewish coachmen, which recurred on 
 every possible occasion, fell, of course, upon our 
 
A JEWISH COACHMAN. 
 
 55 
 
 poor, honest Bar (an irreverent but easy shortening 
 of his name), who stamped about with sounding 
 heels and impotent wrath, until matters got them¬ 
 selves settled. It was the only little cloud on our 
 successful and happy journey. 
 
 Our driver, a typical specimen of the lower class 
 of Jews in this part of the world, was dressed in 
 a long and very greasy-looking gabardine, with long 
 black ringlets down his cheeks, crowned by a battered 
 tall hat; they are most skilful drivers, but their 
 craftiness is exasperating. 
 
 The road was blazing with heat, and quite shade¬ 
 less, though enlivened by a beautiful crop of wild 
 flowers, until, at the end of more than an hour, we 
 stopped to rest under the spreading shade of a fine 
 plane-tree, with a swing well beside it. It was a 
 pleasant relief, and soon afterwards, leaving the 
 broad high-road, we enter the undulating and wooded 
 neighbourhood of the monastery. It crowns the 
 summit of a hill, and we reach it through a rough 
 barrier, that encloses also a small village at the 
 hill foot. 
 
 We have driven through the £ Cloportnitza ’—the 
 entrance-gate and bell-tower—to the door of the 
 ‘Fundarik,’ or guest-house, which, in most monastic 
 
5G 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN EOUMANIA. 
 
 buildings, stands beside the entrance. The other 
 three sides of the quadrangle are formed by the 
 pretty, cottage-like dwellings of the principal maicas, 
 and the school for the children of the village ; the 
 church occupies the centre. Other members of the 
 community have cottages outside the quadrangle, 
 within the boundary enclosure of the monastery. 
 
 These monastic cottages look very bright with 
 flowers on their shaded balconies, and, through the 
 openings in the lace window-curtains, we get a 
 glimpse of many little embellishments not indicative 
 of severe asceticism. Men, principally peasants com¬ 
 ma - on business, walk about the enclosure : and these 
 good ladies, who are not at all cloistered, and none 
 of whom are young, enjoy great liberty in the inter- 
 
AT THE GUEST-HOUSE. 
 
 57 
 
 change of visits with relations and friends in other 
 
 o 
 
 monasteries. 
 
 We have been most cheerfully welcomed by the 
 presiding genius of our ‘ Travellers’ Rest,’ who is 
 called the Maica Katinka, and, assisted by a bare¬ 
 footed and willing servant, has brought our chairs 
 on the pleasant, cool verandah of the guest-house, 
 
 s-J 
 
 and served round sweetmeats and coffee while our 
 dinner is being prepared. An hour or two later they 
 spread clean, comfortable beds on the divans, and 
 with a kindly £ buond noct^,’ leave us to rest, with 
 another tray of preserves and glasses of water for 
 the night. 
 
58 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 Our first visit is paid to the reverend Mother 
 Superior, the Maica Staritza of the monastery; her 
 name is Xenia Manou, a very small elderly lady, 
 who charmed us by her sweet countenance and the 
 dignified refinement of her maimer. She belongs 
 to a high Eoumanian family, and was brought to 
 the monastery as a little child. The Staritza’s small 
 dwelling is neatly and comfortably furnished, and 
 on entering; the sitting-room we found some of the 
 principal ladies of the community collected there 
 to receive us; we sat some time, endeavouring to 
 explain the aim of our wanderings, and receiving 
 valuable information for our guidance, with a word 
 of introduction for the important monastery of 
 Agapia. Our visit ended with the call to afternoon 
 service in the church, sounded on a bar struck by 
 a mallet. 
 
 The costume of the nuns consists of a loose dress 
 of brown serge, with wide sleeves, and a round cap 
 of serge or black velvet, over which is thrown a 
 thin black veil, folded about the face very grace¬ 
 fully : when in church they wear a long black cloak, 
 falling in plaited folds from the shoulders. The effect 
 is extremely dignified. 
 
 In the afternoon we call on the principal ma'icas, 
 
MONASTIC DAINTIES. 
 
 59 
 
 beginning with the Maica Economa. the treasurer 
 of the community—Yustina Filebein. Her home 
 consists of four good rooms, besides kitchen and 
 outhouses ; in one of these we find the Ma'ica’s 
 hand-loom, on which a piece of brown serge is in 
 progress. 
 
 These Roumanian monasteries are celebrated 
 
 their ‘dulces’—the kind of preserved fruit in syrup 
 that accompanies the glass of water and the coffee, 
 such as cherries, pieces of orange, citron, angelica, 
 and even very small unformed walnuts flavoured 
 with vanilla. Besides these dainties, many other 
 articles are manufactured in the convents—handsome 
 strips of carpet, and coverings of divans, the serge 
 for the robe, and most beautiful silk grenadine for 
 the long black veils; many rear their own silk- 
 
60 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN EOUMANIA. 
 
 worms, and spin, dye, weave, and work up the 
 material. The Ma’ica Natalia Yralu'i shows us with 
 much pride some beautiful hanks of exquisitely fine 
 home-reared silk. Her cottage is one of the prettiest 
 and the most elegantly furnished; she is a very 
 sprightly lady, rich, and still handsome; she wears 
 a black velvet cloak over the serge dress, her round 
 cap also is of velvet, and all that surrounds her 
 seems good and handsome; the glasses for water, 
 the heavily embossed silver spoons, the embroidered 
 curtains, the photographs, and elegant trifles that 
 adorn her room, all suggest a once wealthy home. 
 
 Each lady has a servant, who is allowed to enter 
 the monastery as such, though no woman is now 
 permitted to become a member of the community 
 under forty years of age ; these serving sisters, as 
 well as all those ma'icas who have no resources of 
 their own, receive a very small maintenance from 
 the state, but ladies who own property are allowed 
 the full enjoyment of it. The community of Adam 
 numbers about one hundred and fifty members; a 
 lunatic asylum as well as the village school is under 
 their care. 
 
 About sunrise the next morning the bells in the 
 ‘ Cloportnitza ’ began a merry peal, and the bar, 
 
PEAYERS FOR RAIN. 
 
 61 
 
 with its quaint musical call, announced that a 
 procession was leaving the monastery to offer up 
 prayers for rain on a neighbouring hill-side; but 
 we were to leave in the early morning, and had 
 already on the previous evening taken leave of the 
 kind and motherly Staritza, whose parting blessing 
 we especially valued as that of a wise and estimable 
 
 woman, who has introduced into her community a 
 wholesome discipline, carried out at first in the face 
 of much opposition and many difficulties; but she 
 persisted with gentle firmness in her scheme of 
 reform, and has gained universal deference and 
 respect. We heard all these matters discussed 
 afterwards. 
 
02 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 JASSY. 
 
 Our next halting-place was Jassy, one of the 
 oldest cities of Eastern Europe, and once the capital 
 of Moldavia. Turkish tradition appears to date its 
 foundation as far hack as the time of Abraham, but 
 Roumanian belief refers it to Trajan, a sufficiently 
 respectable antiquity. 
 
 At present Jassy is a highly-civilized, Parisian- 
 looking little city, with bright and well-furnished 
 shops, good hotels, public gardens, excellent street 
 cabs and cafes, and the latest French fashions 
 abundantly displayed. The most interesting monu¬ 
 ments are ecclesiastical, and the most beautiful 
 amongst these is the church founded by Vasili Lupu 
 in the 17th century, and dedicated to St. John 
 Chrysostom, St. Gregory, and St. Basil, under the 
 name of Tre'i Spetitili, or Tre'i Jerarhi (the Three 
 Saints). The whole of the exterior is covered with 
 an exquisite network of raised carvings, looking 
 like a lace veil thrown over the building, which 
 still shows many remains of mouldings, and cornices, 
 and twisted columns, rich w T ith colour and golden 
 gleams. On account of this amount of gilding the 
 
CHURCH OF THE THREE SAINTS. 
 
 63 
 
 cliurch was once fired by the Turks. More recently 
 it was shaken and cracked by earthquake, after 
 which it remained for many years unused and in 
 partial ruin, until, by desire of the king, the restora¬ 
 tion of the monument was undertaken by the same 
 architect who has so lately completed the decoration 
 of Curtea d’Argesch. 
 
 The interior, at the time of our visit, was full 
 of workmen and encumbered by scaffolding, but 
 we could admire much delicate stone carving, a 
 row of heads of saints exquisitely painted over the 
 principal entrance, and could see that large frescoes 
 had been carefully shielded from injury by canvas 
 coverings. 
 
 Another ancient church, dedicated to St. 
 Nicholas, was built by Stephen the Great in the 
 latter half of the 15th century; the narthex of this 
 is remarkably fine and of great height. Careful 
 renovation was being carried out here, and the 
 works of the cathedral also were being pushed on 
 actively. 1 
 
 1 This building was completed, and was opened with great 
 solemnity, in 1887. 
 
CHAPTER Y. 
 
 AGAPIA AND THE MONASTERY OF NIAMTZ. 
 
 From Jassy to Paslikani—An Oasis—Primitive shoes—Town of 
 Niamtz—Beautiful approach to Agapia—The Monastery— 
 Sora Katerina—The Sisters Cosmescu—A visit to the Maica 
 Staritza—The Great Hall and the Dispensary—The Asylum 
 —The Great Church—Church Jewelry and Vestments—The 
 Industry of the Nuns—Buffalo Babies—Monastery of 
 Niamtz—Curious Archway—Former Prosperity of the 
 Monastery—The two Churches—The Mortuary—The 
 Shepherd’s Fountain—Mamaliga—Katerina and Katinka 
 —Beautiful Forest Scenery—A stiff pull—The Bar and 
 Mallets—Picturesque Costume. 
 
 AA"e are leaving Jassy—until so recently the capital 
 of Moldavia—for the mountain monastery of Agapia : 
 the train will take us as far as Pashkani, and we 
 roll along pleasantly, rejoicing in the bright carpet 
 of luxuriant wild flowers, the scattered farms and 
 cottages, white-washed and thatched, with the usual 
 broad verandahs; the beautiful flocks and herds 
 
F 
 
 agApia and the monastery of niamiz. 
 
GG 
 
 UNTKODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 that enliven the landscape. The mountains as we 
 advance westwards become more tangible, and it 
 matters little that the station at Pashkani—where 
 we leave the rail—is dirty, the food bad, the 
 roaming dogs importunate ; for is not the end of 
 our day’s journey somewhere in the soft haze of 
 those distant forest ffor^es ? The inevitable contest 
 
 O O 
 
 on the subject of carriage fare is soon over ; our 
 baggage strapped up, or hung swinging on unforeseen 
 projections; and we start, with a jangle of bells 
 and harness, in a carriage sufficiently roomy, but 
 intensely dirty. 
 
 The way is long and shadeless; a broad, well- 
 cultivated plain stretches away to the slopes of the 
 Carpathians, and it is two hours before we pause 
 at the first large patch of shadow thrown on the 
 glaring road by a fine group of oaks ; but this little 
 oasis is a beautiful picture. In the cool, transparent 
 shade an old man and a young girl, in some bright 
 coloured raiment, sit or lean amongst the gnarled 
 roots ; below, in the blue dip of the woodland, the 
 great lever beam of a well is slowly worked by one 
 of the peasants, for several young mountaineers, with 
 long, black, curling locks and immense flapping hats, 
 are sleeping, face downwards, on the grass. One 
 
NIAMTZ. 
 
 67 
 
 of the group—more industrious—is making a pair 
 of new shoes of a primitive and inexpensive fashion. 
 A piece of goatskin leather is cut, considerably 
 longer and wider than the foot, and soaked in water; 
 when sufficiently pliable, a string or narrow thong 
 gathers it in pleats on the instep ; a pinch behind 
 to form the heel, and the sandal is complete : one 
 or two bits of leather thong help to keep it steady. 
 
 A queer, dilapidateddooking £ diligence ’ rattles 
 up while we are watching this rapid manufacture 
 of shoes ; it stops to rest and water the horses; some 
 nuns are inside, and we feel that we are approaching 
 once more the hospitable shelter of a monastery. 
 
 Not long afterwards we reach Niamtz, the chief 
 town of the district. It is a long, straggling, dirty, 
 untidy place, on the bank of the little river Niamtzu, 
 but there are some pretty houses on the outskirts; 
 and Niamtz can boast of the most celebrated ruin 
 in the country—the fortress from which Stephen 
 the Great, the hero of Moldavia, was sent back by 
 his mother to conquer or die in a supreme struggle 
 with the Ottoman invader. He conquered ; and this 
 victory, the fierce heroism of the mother refusing 
 admittance to her son, and the despairing energy 
 of the young Voivode, are favourite subjects 
 
G8 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 of the warlike legends and patriotic songs of 
 Roumania. 
 
 There is a beautiful view of these ruins from the 
 high-road just before crossing the river—a tolerably 
 rapid stream, but not in summer time of great 
 importance. A little further on another stream is 
 crossed ; we gradually draw near to the mountains, 
 and approach the large monastery of Agapia, in a 
 beautiful wooded gorge. A rippling streamlet is on 
 the left of the winding; road : ou the right hand the 
 swelling, grassy uplands, dotted with oak and beech, 
 melting into the denser foliage of the virgin forest, 
 every small hillock or hedgerow bordering the way 
 showing its waving plume of flowering grasses, of 
 gladiolas, yellow fox-glove, and wreaths of wild 
 honeysuckle and briar-rose. 
 
 The little village through which we pass is rather 
 poor looking, but two or three pretty houses, standing 
 back in orchards and gardens, belong, as we after¬ 
 wards learn, to some of the richer nuns; there is also 
 the school-house, and, passing that, we are soon in 
 a broad lane, bordered by the monastic dwellings ; in 
 a charming cottage, ‘ or nee ’ style, with wide balconies, 
 and gardens glowing with blossoms. Some of these 
 picturesque retreats are almost hidden by the mass 
 
A P1CTURESQ0E RETREAT. 
 
 69 
 
 of creepers twining about the white pilasters; others, 
 higher up the slope, peep out of a nest of forest 
 foliage. In the midst of this wild luxuriance, the 
 cupolas of the monastery, covered with glittering 
 scales of burnished metal, and crowned with their 
 numerous and complicated golden crosses, gleam and 
 
 sparkle against a dark, pine-clad mountain-side; on 
 the summit, an opening in the heavy fringe of trees 
 is marked by a large wooden cross. 
 
 We drive up—with a great jangling of horses’ 
 bells, and a general clatter of the disjointed harness— 
 to the entrance gates; attendants come forward to 
 
70 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN DORMANT A. 
 
 help down the luggage, while we are gazed at from 
 the balcony beside the archway by some dark-robed, 
 leaning figures; one of these, the ‘ Maica Fundaricu/ 
 comes forward to greet us at the head of a broad 
 flight of stairs, and conducts us into the two large, 
 well-furnished, and delightful rooms, looking across 
 the shady balcony to the wooded slopes, and down 
 the peaceful valley; the little rivulet is adding its 
 soothing murmur to the cool and grateful refreshment 
 of the pure mountain breeze. 
 
 Within all is beautifully clean and orderly; the 
 hospitality unstinted. Our,interpreter had gone back 
 with the carriage to Niamtz, and we are delighted 
 to find a young ‘ sister,’ Sora Katerina, speaking 
 excellent French, and quite willing to give us all 
 possible information. 
 
 The fine monastery of Agapia is one of those 
 especially devoted to the reception of the daughters 
 of noble families; most of the ladies now dwelling 
 here came as very little children, and have known no 
 other home. It was founded by Gabriel Hartman 
 in 1644, in the time of Vasili Lupu, Voivode of 
 Moldavia. Like other similar establishments, it is 
 a community rather than a convent, as we understand 
 the term. 
 
THE MONASTIC COMMITTEE. 
 
 71 
 
 There are about four hundred inhabitants of 
 Agapia, several living in the quadrangle surrounding 
 the church, a greater number in the lovely cottages 
 among the clustering roses and creepers. Besides 
 these, there are many dwellings, the property of 
 ladies not belonging to the community, who come 
 here for rest and refreshment during the height of 
 summer. I could not understand that the rule of 
 any especial monastic order is 
 followed in these monasteries. 
 
 A committee of three regulates 
 the affairs of the community; 
 the Maica Staritza is the Lady 
 Superior, the Maica Economa 
 regulates the domestic economy, 
 and the Lady Treasurer, the 
 
 Maica Fundaricu, attends solely to the travellers 
 received in the Fundarik, or Guest-house. This our 
 especial Maica—Ephraxia Cosmescu—is exceedingly 
 handsome, tall, slender, and distinguished-looking, 
 with a noble east of countenance; the shrouding 
 drapery of the black veil is wonderfully becoming 
 to the pale complexion, slightly aquiline features, and 
 soft dark eyes of the wearer. This lady and a sister, 
 Agaphie, who lives with her, a confirmed invalid, are 
 
72 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 the daughters of a well-known Roumanian family; 
 they are essentially gentlewomen in every tone and 
 movement. The burden of her cares must be no 
 light one to the Ma'ica of this Fundarik, for Agapia 
 is a favourite aim of little excursions from the neigh¬ 
 bouring towns, such as Piatra, Niamtz, and Baltetesliti; 
 they come on the Saturday to spend the Sunday with 
 some relation or friend in the monastery, or in the 
 Guest-house, where the bustle and noisy requirements 
 of these somewhat turbulent visitors greatly disturbed 
 our happy sense of the restful peace of this beautiful 
 retreat. But their unpleasant influence does not 
 extend beyond the Fundarik; gentlemen do not 
 intrude into the quadrangle, unless to visit some 
 aged relative, or on matters of urgent business. 
 
 The present Maica Staritza, if very gentle in 
 manner, is firm and strict in principle; like her 
 sister Superioress of Adam, she has determined that 
 the very great laxity and abuses which formerly 
 threw such terrible discredit on the monastic estab¬ 
 lishments of Roumania shall, as far as her influence 
 may prevail, be thoroughly reformed. She is success¬ 
 ful in keeping her large community in decorous 
 bounds, maintaining the strictest order in all ad¬ 
 ministrative matters; she forbids the entrance of 
 
THE REVEREND MOTHER. 
 
 73 
 
 Jewish pedlars within the enclosure, and only suffers 
 their presence outside the 4 Cloportnitza ’ on rare 
 occasions, when her colony must make its unavoid¬ 
 able purchases. This excellent lady has to bear 
 the weight of some unpopularity. Reform, in 
 these monastic matters, is of comparatively recent 
 date, but any jangling of discordant strings is, of 
 course, unheard by the passing visitor; w r e only knew 
 that two 4 religieuses ’ had been sent from Adam to 
 this place as punishment for some misdeeds; here 
 they are regarded and treated as servants. 
 
 Guided by the bright little Sora Katerina, we set 
 out to pay a visit of respect to the Reverend Mother, 
 passing along the colonnade, in parts festooned with 
 creepers, to a beautiful and spacious residence. The 
 venerable lady receives us with dignified courtesy ; 
 she does not speak French, but the conversation, 
 briskly interpreted by our little 4 Sora,’ keeps up its 
 interest. The room is very handsomely furnished, 
 and the walls adorned with large oleographs of the 
 King and Queen of Roumania, besides many prints 
 and photographs, some of them fine heads of bishops 
 of the Eastern Church. 
 
 After the usual sweets and coffee, we pass along 
 the same gallery to the apartments of the Mai'ca 
 
74 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 Economa, who was absent; but the rooms were shown 
 to us—an elegant saloon furnished with luxurious 
 comfort, a dining-room, an oratory, with spacious 
 accommodation for servants below. Adjoining this 
 is a small chapel, not remarkable except for its 
 excpiisite cleanliness; it is used by aged and infirm 
 nuns, as more convenient than the great church. 
 Beneath, on the ground-floor, we find a large hall, 
 where all meetings connected with the affairs of the 
 monastery are held. The ceiling is supported on 
 columns; on the walls hang some large paintings, 
 one of them representing the founder of the church 
 and the Voivode Lupu, in curious costumes of their 
 period—the middle of the seventeenth century ; the 
 Voivode wears an aigrette. Another canvas shows 
 the patron saints of the monastery, St. Michael and 
 St. Gabriel; here also there are some fine engravings 
 of high dignitaries of the Church. 
 
 In one corner of the hall a large closet, fitted with 
 drawers, and marked ‘ Dispenseria,’ is full of medicines 
 and herbs; on the table a mass of camomile flowers 
 are drying, scenting all the space with their pungent 
 and subtle aroma. 
 
 Contiguous to the hall of assembly is the ‘ hospice ’ 
 of the monastery, where several old, and blind, and 
 
THE HOSPICE. 
 
 75 
 
 some bed-ridden women live in two cheerful and airy 
 rooms. The beds look clean and comfortable; there 
 are flowers in the windows, and the poor creatures are 
 evidently well and tenderly cared for. Two of these 
 old women have taken refuge here from the slovenly 
 disorder of the neighbouring monastery of Veratik. 
 
 In a small separate room we visit a very aged lady 
 of good family, who is delighted to receive strangers, 
 and hospitably orders in the ‘ dulces.’ She is a tiny 
 woman, with bright dark eyes like a mouse, and she 
 talks rapidly and incessantly in an extinct voice; 
 she is urging us to visit her daughter at Piatra. We 
 contrive by signs and nods an interchange of senti¬ 
 ments on the subject of spectacles; then, with a 
 promise of returning before we leave, we pass on to 
 the great church in the centre of the quadrangle. 
 It is very handsome, and enriched by several really 
 good paintings by a Roumanian artist. They are not 
 in the traditional Byzantine style, so strictly followed 
 in the Greek churches, but naturally and very pleas¬ 
 ingly executed; amongst others, full-length panels 
 of the patron saints, and of the founder and his wife 
 —the head of the lady (doubtless imaginary) very 
 pensive and sweet. 
 
 They take us to an upper room to display the 
 
76 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 ‘ treasure ’ of the monastery. It is needless to specify 
 all the rich and beautiful objects of this splendid 
 collection—the vestments innumerable, the work of 
 generations of nuns, the pearls and the diamonds, 
 the gold and silver crosses, the richly-jewelled 
 mitres, the lamps, the massive candle-sticks, and 
 the incense-burners; it was overpowering and very 
 fatiguing. I hailed with joy a move onwards, that 
 brought us to the hill-side overhanging the monastery, 
 where in a green cemetery we find the tomb of the 
 late Staritza, dead four years since. This lady was 
 highly venerated, and her memory cherished by all 
 who knew her. The chapel of this cemetery is a poor 
 little building, but the view of mountain and forest, 
 seen from the grassy slope, is exquisite. 
 
 During the dinner, that was served in a rustic 
 dining-room soon after our return, the Ma’ica Ephraxia 
 sat with us as a matter of politeness ; but our coffee 
 was taken on the balcony, and we became thoroughly 
 cordial while discussing and admiring a beautiful quilt 
 of her own making and embroidery; she is always 
 working when not engaged in household supervision 
 or accounts. Two women in an adjacent room were 
 busily occupied, the one in cutting rose-leaves for 
 preserve, the other with her distaff and spindle. 
 
BABY BUFFALOES. 
 
 77 
 
 They spin wool here as fine as silk, for silk itself 
 cannot be raised in these parts, which are too cold 
 and damp. As at Adam, these ladies make almost 
 everything they need—cloth, carpets, veils, &c. 
 
 As the shadows lengthened in the beautiful glade 
 beyond the monastery, the herds of buffaloes and 
 
 oxen began slowly to wind along the borders of the 
 little rivulet, coming towards their homes; and from 
 the end of the balcony, which commands a part of 
 the farmyard, we can watch the anxious endeavours 
 of baby buffaloes struggling to get their evening 
 refreshment when the ungainly mothers enter the 
 enclosure. A servant with a milking-pail waits 
 patiently for awhile, but the ‘ baby ’ is at length 
 
UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 captured, and most mercilessly carried off in a man’s 
 arms, with Ions; black legs hanging down. 
 
 Then the moon rises over the dark pine forest and 
 floods the tranquil landscape with its silver radiance. 
 It strikes bright sparkles from the burnished crosses 
 and from the rippling water; the heavy scent of roses 
 and lilies rises from the surrounding gardens ; feeble 
 lights shimmer here and there through the embower¬ 
 ing foliage. All is restful and at peace ; and one can 
 imagine no better solace to the toilworn, weary brain 
 than a few wrneks of calm repose in these sylvan 
 glades, under the shadow of the quiet monastery, now 
 —whatever may have been its former failings—now 
 so well and piously governed by its venerable Mai'ca 
 Staritza. 
 
 THE MONASTERY OF NIAMTZ. 
 
 The Staritza has given permission for our young 
 friend Katerina to accompany us to the monastery 
 of Niamtz, where an old lady from Agapia is at 
 present staying for the benefit of her health. A 
 mineral spring discovered here is considered very 
 efficacious against rheumatism. A carriage has been 
 sent from the town, and we set off in great enjoy- 
 
MONASTERY OF NIAMTZ. 
 
 79 
 
 ment of the morning freshness, and the bright 
 wealth of flowers scenting the sweet air. 
 
 The road is familiar until we turn to the left, 
 before entering the town of Niamtz, and follow the 
 course of a small river, at the foot of the great red 
 earth cliff that is crowned by the ruins of Stephen’s 
 fine old fortress. After this we rejoin the main road, 
 that gradually becomes more 
 and more picturesque as we 
 proceed ; it leads through 
 a solemn aisle of venerable 
 oaks and beeches, with forest 
 glades that slope down 
 into blue depths of sylvan mystery. 
 
 The brilliant cupolas of the monastery have been 
 seen, sparkling through the fringe of woodland on 
 the right hand, and we soon afterwards draw up 
 before the archway leading to the monastic enclosure. 
 It is a strange-looking entrance-way, formed by a 
 series of very broad, low arches, completely covered 
 with paintings; there is a startling ‘Adam and Eve 
 in Paradise,’ but the infernal regions and their 
 inhabitants form, decidedly, the favourite subject 
 of these embellishments. 
 
 We are politely received and conducted to a room 
 
80 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 on the first floor opening from the balcony; soon 
 afterwards the old lady from Agapia, making her 
 appearance, is joyfully welcomed by Katerina, and 
 we go all together to pay our visit to the Superior, 
 who appears to have very little to say, and on the 
 whole does not make an agreeable impression. The 
 monastery has a forlorn look, which is not perhaps 
 astonishing if we contrast its former high prosperity 
 with its actual condition, for the great monastery of 
 Niamtz in the good old Boyard days counted a 
 thousand inhabitants; there was stabling for three 
 hundred horses, and a dining-room fitted for the 
 reception of a hundred guests. The religious in¬ 
 fluence of Niamtz is said to have made itself felt 
 even as far as Moscow, but it would seem as if this 
 religious element must have somewhat faded from 
 sight when those stables w 7 ere filled, and the Boyarcls 
 meeting here held their orgies in those fine old 
 (riotous) times. At present the community counts 
 three hundred and seventy-six members; the count¬ 
 less guest-rooms are empty, the stables in ruins. 
 
 Two churches occupy the centre of the quadrangle; 
 the larger built by Alexander the Good; the smaller 
 building beside it founded by Stephen the Great. 
 The exterior of the principal edifice has been entirely 
 
RUSSIAN CHURCH BOOKS. 
 
 81 
 
 ruined by whitewash, but it shows traces of having 
 formerly been richly painted, and was doubtless at 
 that time a curious and interesting monument. The 
 interior is most gorgeous, every inch of surface 
 covered with painting. A large portrait of the first 
 Father Superior is suspended above his tomb, which 
 is marked by a slab in the pavement, the inscription 
 most beautifully cut in raised letters. 
 
 Most of the richly-bound church books and 
 ornaments were presents sent from Russia; this is 
 very frequently the case throughout Roumania, as 
 in Macedonia, Albania, and elsewhere, in provinces 
 or kingdoms which the Russians persist in calling 
 ‘ Sclavonic.’ 
 
 Outside the church we are shown a white marble 
 monument, lately erected in memory of a young 
 lady—a cousin of our kind young guide. The figure 
 is represented in half-size, at full length, in relief; 
 the execution of the work, which is very graceful, 
 does credit to the Roumanian sculptor by whom it 
 was executed, at either Bukurest or Jassy. 
 
 In a part of the precincts on. the more ancient side 
 of the monastery, we are taken to a long vaulted 
 Golgotha, where the skulls stand in weird and ghastly 
 rows on rough shelves; most of them have their 
 
 G 
 
UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 names painted on the forehead; some have paper 
 labels. A horrible jumble of bones fill up niches 
 beneath the skulls ; it is a revolting exhibition. 
 
 Near this uncanny vault is a high octagonal tower, 
 
 jiart of the former fortified enclosure. We are told 
 that more of these fortified remains may be seen at a 
 short distance from the great quadrangle. In front 
 of the principal entrance-gate stands a curious Moorish- 
 looking building that they call the ‘ Shepherd’s Foun¬ 
 tain,’ in memory of the discoverer of the springs 
 
FUNERAL PROCESSION. 
 
 83 
 
 which caused this spot to be selected as the site of 
 the monastery. A funeral procession passed along as 
 we were sketching this fountain from the balcony of 
 the Guest-house ; it was announced by a merry peal 
 from the bell-tower, and accompanied by a particu¬ 
 larly jovial £ bar.’ The effect was most picturesque 
 
 as the procession of priests and banners wound across 
 the grassy plateau set in a framing of primeval forest. 
 
 They gave us a carefully-served luncheon, and here 
 for the first time we tasted the £ mamaliga,’ a very 
 stiff porridge of maize flour : before the end of our 
 wanderings we had only too frequent an experience 
 of this universal and national dish. 
 
 G 2 
 
84 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 THE WINDOW. 
 
 Before leaving Agapia we set out one bright morn¬ 
 ing to scale the wooded summit that overhangs the 
 monastery, our object being the opening in the thick 
 curtain of forest that they call the ‘ Window.’ 
 
 We are again guided by Sora Katerina along the 
 grassy, flowery valley, crossing the sparkling rills by 
 stepping-stones, or over a rough 
 plank; but on the skirt of the 
 forest it is decided to press into 
 the service a little girl, the 
 daughter of a wood-cutter, who 
 will show us the easiest way, for 
 these exquisitely sylvan paths are 
 fearfully steep, and I feel great 
 doubts as to the possibility of 
 reaching the ‘Window.’ The 
 child Katinka dashes upwards, springing from rock 
 to rock like a kid ; we hear her clear young voice 
 ringing far above us ; suddenly she reappears, her 
 arms filled with ferns and flowers, bunches of wild 
 strawberry, and branches covered with bilberries; 
 
THE ‘window; 
 
 85 
 
 then she is off again, and we see the little bare-footed 
 figure flitting among the great pine trunks high up 
 above our heads. 
 
 The scenery is exquisite; the narrow flower- 
 bordered track winding steeply upwards, with here 
 and there a rustic bench, until we reach a point half¬ 
 way to the summit—it is marked by a large mass of 
 gray rock. From this the ascent is very steep, and 
 rendered more difficult by a thick carpeting of fir¬ 
 needles ; but the summit is gained-—at length !—and 
 a triumphant peal of raps with two mallets upon a 
 wooden bar echoes far down the opening in the dense 
 forest, and proclaims to the monastery—seen like a 
 cluster of bright sparkles in the valley beneath—the 
 success of our little expedition. 
 
 It is well to succeed in what has been undertaken, 
 but the view greatly disappointed us ; it is simply an 
 opening in the heavy curtain of sombre pines. The 
 monastery—a collection of domes and pinnacles—fills 
 the opening at the foot; then the vast expanse of 
 blue and silvery plain—but the picture gained through 
 so much toil cannot be compared with the sylvan 
 beauty of the winding valley in which the monastery 
 stands—its rippling streamlet, its red and moss-grown 
 boulders, its flower-laden hillocks—or with the lower 
 
86 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 slopes of the mountain beyond the last dwellings of 
 the monastic village. 
 
 O 
 
 Before reaching home on our return we met one 
 of the servants of the monastery, sent by the good 
 Staritza to look after the wanderers. This man is 
 dressed in full and very handsome costume ; a jacket 
 embroidered with many colours, wide open sleeves, 
 and the border of his full linen shirt also richly 
 worked, an enormously wide-brimmed hat, and long 
 curling hair flowing behind his ears. 
 
 We leave Aghpia with many kindly expressions of 
 goodwill, and certainly much regret on our part. 
 They take charge of our luggage for the present, as 
 we are to make a two days’ excursion before finally 
 taking it away. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 RISHKA AND BAlA. 
 
 Indirect Directions — A Short Cut—Conflicting Testimony— 
 Streamlets and Fords—A Floundering Progress—A Haven of 
 Pest — A Wild-Man-of-the-Woods — The Nephew of the 
 Archimandrite—Delightful Guest-rooms—Refined Service of 
 ‘ Ancient Dacians ’—The Monastery Gardens—Basket Barns 
 —The Church—Wall Paintings and Quaint Conceits—Great 
 Hospitality — A Yenerable Archimandrite—‘Non, je suis 
 vieux ! ’—Uncertain Progress—-Bala and its ruined Church— 
 Folticeni. 
 
 The carriage which is to take us towards the northern 
 frontier is small but clean ; we have four good little 
 horses and an expert driver; we are bound, in the 
 first instance, for the monaster ) 7 of Rishka—then for 
 the more important monastery of Slatina—hoping to 
 reach Baia, Folticeni, and perhaps Suciawa. 
 
 We go steadily on to the town of Niamtz, and stop 
 at a ‘ restauration ’ to get black coffee and twists of 
 white bread; in Moldavia when white bread can be 
 procured, it is of the finest and most delicate quality. 
 As we do not leave the carriage we quickly become 
 
88 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 the centre of a crowd of idle, vociferous Jews. They 
 are all speaking at once—our driver is in hot 
 discussion—and it presently transpires that here, 
 almost at our starting-point, he does not know the 
 way along which he has engaged to convey us, and 
 is obliged to consult his dirty, ragged-looking com¬ 
 rades. No one seems to know much about it, their 
 interest lying between the railway-station and the 
 town, but they offer a vast amount of contradictory 
 advice, and at length, with a faint impression that 
 Bishka is to be discovered somewhere on the left of 
 the highway to the frontier, we start once again— 
 past pretty cottages in shady lanes, and gardens full 
 of clustering roses. Then the country becomes more 
 open, but undulating and richly cultivated, sprinkled 
 with farms over the green pasture land and broad 
 stretches of Indian wheat. We roll on very happily 
 for an hour or two, until the gradually darkening sky 
 resolves into a heavy downpour. We are fortunately 
 quite near a shelter. Our brave little steeds are started 
 at full gallop for a wide-roofed barn beside the road ; 
 a deep ditch runs in front, bridged by some five feet 
 of planking; the four heads are cleverly pulled 
 together ; we are over, and in shelter. We remain 
 in the carriage, for the one room in the place is 
 
AN UNCOMFORTABLE DRIVE. 
 
 89 
 
 crowded with wild-looking peasants; it is stifling 
 with smoke, and reeking with the fumes of raki. 
 
 Once more on our way, we have turned from the 
 high road, and our bewildered coachman, influenced 
 by the fatal desire to find a ‘ short cut,’ is making 
 anxious inquiries of children, women, peasants—he 
 might as well have put the question to the numerous 
 pigs and geese besprinkling the green and swampy 
 pastures. All the people point onwards, but we see 
 nothing. c Is it far to the monastery ? ’ £ Yes,’ they 
 
 answer. Then of another, ‘ Is it near ? ’ £ Yes ! ’ 
 
 So with these wildly conflicting judgments, our 
 carriage rattles over the grass, and flounders across 
 the beds of shallow streams, guided only by the 
 marks on the banks of cart-wheels that have crossed 
 before; but where a bullock-cart can pass with 
 impunity, a four-wheeled chaise, with water up to 
 the splash-board, runs a good risk of capsizing, as we 
 presently experienced. We were all but over !—one 
 wheel in a deep, unseen hole—but the driver, expert 
 though ignorant, pulls his team together, and we 
 scramble up the opposite bank of shiny mud. On 
 again !—more water gleaming in the distance. It is 
 getting unpleasant, and when the fourteenth (!) little 
 stream looms ahead of our conveyance, two of us 
 
90 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 prefer to get out and walk, crossing the water by 
 long narrow planks arranged for foot passengers. 
 The track winds among bushes and tall grass; 
 suddenly, at a turning, the glittering crosses and 
 cupolas of the monastery come into sight—a joyful 
 
 promise of rest ! But we are not yet there; many a 
 turning and winding and more streamlets have to be 
 endured, before our carriage rolls with the accustomed 
 rumbling sound over the planked flooring of the 
 Cloportnitza; these gateways have always sonorous 
 wooden floors. 
 
A HAVEN OF REST. 
 
 91 
 
 Two c caloyers ’ are sitting outside in the shadow 
 of the wall. They wave a welcome and we pass in . . . 
 to a scene of such soft, sweet promise of repose that, 
 as with one voice, the exclamation, ‘ No! nothing 
 shall induce me to start again to-day; we will stay 
 and enjoy this peaceful haven of rest,’ discarded the 
 original intention of simply taking luncheon here and 
 hurrying on. Worn out by the fatigues and tremors 
 of our long and venturesome drive, wetted, and 
 travel-stained, and very hungry, we looked at the 
 Guest-house with its broad shady balcony, its plot of 
 garden beneath, clusters of bright flowers adorning 
 the steps and the terrace before the apartment of the 
 Archimandrite, where the projecting roof is shaded 
 by a lofty lime tree that sends its flickering shadows 
 across the fresh dewy grass ; verily, such a sweet spot 
 could not be rashly abandoned ! Around the quad¬ 
 rangle, here and there a vine-trellised pathway leads 
 into the modest monastic cottages, and in the centre 
 stands the strangest, most picturesque old church 
 that we have seen, not as yet ruined by whitewash, 
 left in all its native quaintness of grotesque pictorial 
 effort. But we do not at once note all these details. 
 
 W r e have stopped at the door of the Fundarik. The 
 place seems deserted; a moment later a servant 
 
92 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 comes forward, a sort of wild-man-of-tlie-woods— 
 bare-footed, with a mass of shaggy, black curling 
 locks over his forehead and shoulders; he is dressed 
 in coarse linen, confined at the waist by a leather 
 belt. This wild apparition proved, however, very 
 gentle in his ways; helping down our luggage, he 
 conducts us to a room on the upper floor and departs 
 to announce the arrival of guests. The restorative 
 1 dulces '—and water, followed by coffee—are quickly 
 brought, and before long the temporal director of the 
 affairs of the monastery comes to bid us a cordial 
 welcome. This gentleman—M. Pisosehy—is not a 
 monk ; he is the nephew of the Archimandrite—an 
 old man in very failing health. He lives with his 
 uncle, to whom he is much attached, and is the 
 general administrator of the affairs of this small com¬ 
 munity, which is cited as being the best regulated 
 and most orderly of the monasteries in this country. 
 
 Our kind entertainer onves us the best rooms in his 
 
 O 
 
 delightful Quest-house. They are exquisitely clean, 
 and furnished with every comfort of carpeted floor 
 and soft divan; a large bouquet is on the table ; the 
 scent of flowers and of new-made liay comes through 
 the open windows, and the gentle waving of the 
 lime tree shadows on the many-tinted church walls 
 
‘ THE DRUID/ 
 
 93 
 
 spreads, as the evening sun touches the bright cupolas 
 with golden sparkles. 
 
 A very hospitable dinner is served in the large 
 dining-room, in which a well-made ‘ mamaliga ’ plays 
 a subordinate part amongst fowl, eggs, fruit, vege¬ 
 tables, cream, and that exquisite Moldavian bread. 
 
 We are waited on by the £ wilcl-man ’ (we have 
 named him ‘ The Druid ’), assisted by a youth, both 
 in spotlessly clean linen blouses, with a deep band of 
 coloured embroidery round the throat, and richly 
 ornamented belts. These wild-haired beings, looking 
 like ancient Dacians fresh from their mountain home, 
 performed their duties (to our great astonishment) 
 
94 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 with the quiet, gentle watchfulness of the highly- 
 trained "waiter. Coffee was served in a delightful 
 room overlooking the large garden at the hack of the 
 monastery, into which we presently descended with 
 M. Pisoschy. Here, as in the Guest-house, all is in 
 the most perfect order. It is a hlaze of colour—all 
 our familiar garden flowers growing luxuriantly in 
 the rich loamy soil, in which flourish also fruit trees 
 heavy with promise; some trained, some tall stand¬ 
 ards ; raspberry-hushes and clean strawberry-beds 
 are bordered by roses and tufts of lavender. A 
 second vegetable garden of a sterner nature, showing 
 great plots of artichoke and homely cabbage, leads 
 into the farm enclosure. The animals are all in the 
 fields, but the vast receptacles for the maize—the 
 principal growth of the country—are worth examin¬ 
 ation. It is stored in immense wattled basket-work, 
 thatched over. This basket, standing some fifteen feet 
 high, narrows towards the bottom, where it is raised 
 from the ground on stones or sections of logs ; a 
 small door in the basket-work near the base lets out 
 the grain when wanted. This being quite a model 
 farm, possessed two or three granaries in the finest 
 condition. Near poor cottages these maize-baskets, 
 dilapidated and out of balance, with rebellious sticks 
 
GRIM DECORATIONS. 
 
 95 
 
 shooting up in picturesque confusion, form a most 
 effective foreground object against the soft bloom of 
 distant plain and tree-clad mountain slopes. 
 
 The little monastery of Rishka, formerly number¬ 
 ing eighty monks, is now inhabited only by twenty- 
 five. The church, standing as usual in the centre 
 of the quadrangle, was founded by a son of Stephen 
 the Great in 1540; it was restored in 1872, but— 
 happily—not as yet ruined by a coat of whitewash, 
 as in the case of so many interesting churches 
 throughout Roumania. The pictorial representations 
 remain in all their native tints and terrors; the 
 fantastic gambols of imps and demons was a favourite 
 idea caressed by the artistic mind of the sixteenth 
 century. The exterior of the apse displays a gigantic 
 serpent with the jaws of a crocodile, sending forth 
 flames and smoke reaching nearly to the roof of the 
 building; a ladder, also winding upwards, shows the 
 efforts, mostly vain, of the despairing souls. Some 
 are hurled, shrieking, into the fiery jaws; others 
 cling wildly; one aged man, half-way up, is sus¬ 
 pended by one hand, whilst a demon in mid air 
 hangs on to the other, and to make the strain and 
 pull of this imp more effectual, a friend has clutched 
 his tail and hangs his added weight; the old man 
 
96 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 is almost gone ! There are many others of these 
 grim conceits, mingled with heavenly visions, but 
 these last are pale and insipid beside the roguish 
 malice of the little demons. 
 
 Outside the wall of the nave we find some pictures 
 of saints, rather well executed. The interior is en¬ 
 tirely painted throughout; a wealth of decoration 
 which is found everywhere throughout the country, 
 even where the exterior has been whitened or 
 otherwise modernized. 
 
 On returning to the Guest-house it proved that 
 the £ savages ’ had made up our beds most scien¬ 
 tifically. They met us with a tray of dulces and 
 coffee—always a different variety of the delicate 
 preserve—a little later a large bowl of milk, with 
 strips of the snow-white bread, closes our repasts for 
 the day, but even the night is provided for—a tray 
 being left in the room with more sweetmeats and 
 glasses of fresh water. The careful attendance of our 
 £ Druid ’ and his assistant were beyond all praise. 
 
 We were quite sorry on the following day to leave 
 this charming retreat, and wandered once more 
 around the old gateway, the tower—the bit of forti¬ 
 fied wall still remaining—and across the sweet green 
 meadow of the enclosure, where gliding figures are 
 
VISIT TO THE ARCHIMANDRITE. 97 
 
 returning to their several cottages after the morning 
 service. 
 
 After a very elaborate and hospitable breakfast, 
 we proceeded to pay a visit to the Archimandrite, 
 a venerable old gentleman, looking exceedingly ill. 
 He receives very kindly, however, our thanks for 
 the great hospitality of our reception, and assures 
 
 us that we are the first English ladies who have 
 visited that monastery. They remember only one 
 English gentleman several years before—the late 
 Mr. Alison, of eccentric memory ; his sojourn left a 
 vivid impression, now softened, we must hope, by 
 the more subdued manners of our little party, each 
 member of which receives on leaving the blessing of 
 the venerable man. 
 
 H 
 
98 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 At the moment of starting the rain comes clown 
 in torrents. I seize the opportunity of delay to make 
 a sketch of the ‘ Druid,’ who submits calmly to the 
 infliction, and afterwards proceeding to one of the 
 balconies for a sketch of the church, I am watched 
 by a very dirty old monk, emerged from a neigh¬ 
 bouring room. lie presently asks, ‘ Are you come 
 to disturb and upset the arrangements of the monas¬ 
 tery ? ’ taking us, doubtless, for Government agents 
 in disguise. He has placed his frugal breakfast— 
 mamaliga and black beans—on a stone near the door 
 of his cell, while he comes anxiously forward. He 
 proves to be a Prussian, capable of speaking a few 
 words of French. I seek at once for information ; 
 but he instantly shuffles off in a great fright, £ Non! 
 je suis vieux! je suis vieux! ’ in such dread cf 
 entanglement that he even forgets the little tin 
 dishes in his precipitation; presently he stealthily 
 emerges like a rat from his hole and carries back 
 his food. 
 
 We have given up the intention of visiting the 
 monastery of Slatina. We learn that the rains have 
 so swollen the river Moldova that it cannot be 
 forded with safety; the mere suggestion produces 
 cold shudders of remembrance; the first available 
 
ON THE KOAD TO BALA, 99 
 
 bridge proving to be at a considerable distance in 
 the wrong direction, we abandon with regret that 
 visit, and the horses’ heads are turned towards Baia 
 and Folticheni, hoping to reach Suciawa in the 
 evening. 
 
 The road to Baia had the usual proportion of small 
 tribulations mingled with much' pleasantness. As a 
 matter of course the coachman knew nothing of the 
 way, but our good Bar and he ask persistently. We 
 meet, as before, with slippery tracks across the 
 meadows, and gaining the highway are jolted over 
 roads newly laid down in rough flints and stones 
 nearly as large as small pumpkins. There are the 
 usual pretty cottages to admire- - '-verandahed and 
 thatched-B-with the blooming gardens; the swing-well 
 near at hand; the creamy, soft-eyed oxen; great 
 flocks of downy, long-feathered geese; there were 
 also the usual swarms of little pigs—-of the wild boar 
 species, having an upright row of hard bristles down 
 the back—their heads in what looked like c Oxford 
 frames,’ cheerfully eating grass, and frolicsome as 
 puppies ; but there were no donkeys. Throughout our 
 journey I do not remember to have once seen a 
 donkey. 
 
 Opposite to the road leading to Folticheni we 
 
 H 2 
 
100 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 turn off on the left towards Bala at two or three 
 miles distance in a direct line. The way is steep, 
 and so rough and jolting that a great part of it is 
 pursued on foot in pity to the four little horses. 
 These roads when under repair are only fit for the 
 broad, ponderous wheels of bullock-waggons. 
 
 Baia is scarcely worth the fatigue of the journey, 
 
 although it possesses historical interest as the scene 
 of the great battle between Stephen the Great and 
 Matthias Corvinus of Hungary (a.d. 1468). 
 
 In a tangled thicket of a park, belonging (I think) 
 to the Cantacuzene family, may be seen some con¬ 
 siderable remains of a Gothic church, founded by 
 Roman Catholics about the beginning of the fifteenth 
 century; it was afterwards given to the Lutherans 
 
CHURCH AT FOLTICHENI. 
 
 101 
 
 and finally destroyed (as well as another church in 
 a neighbouring field) in wars with the Hungarians. 
 A monument in memory of a Cantacuzene may still 
 be seen in the centre of the ruined apse. 
 
 We did not succeed in reaching Suciawa, near 
 which are two large monasteries, but were obliged to 
 stop for the night at Folticheni; an uninteresting 
 town, principally inhabited by Jews. It possesses 
 little attraction for the tourist, unless indeed he may 
 wish to gaze on the most singularly coloured church 
 to be met with in civilized Europe. It had been 
 freshly painted. The body of this remarkable edifice 
 is white, the door a dark chocolate, the principal 
 bell-tower crushed strawberry, the smaller one a 
 bright grass-green, and the roof beneath uncom¬ 
 promising Veronese. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 VERATIC—BALTETESHTI-HORAITZA. 
 
 Dress of the Moldavian Peasantry—Ruins of the Castle of Stephen 
 the Great—the Historical Gateway—Beautiful Ravine—Wild 
 Gooseberries—Yeratic—Disorderly Arrangements and Unrest 
 -—The Church—Lovely Situation of the Monastery—A Cot¬ 
 tage near the Pines—A Bespangled Porter—Mineral Baths of 
 Balteteshti—Pleasant Boarding-house—Mild Dissipation—A 
 Piasco—To Horaitza in a Basket-cart—Walking preferred to 
 Wading—A Wooded Gorge—Sylvan Beauty—Arcadia Pro¬ 
 faned—The Little Monastery—A Stencilled Church—A Drive 
 accomplished on foot—To Piatra. 
 
 Ox leaving Folticeni we were careful to stock a 
 sufficient lunclieon-basket—not forgetting a large 
 twist of the delicate Moldavian bread. The country 
 is open, well-cultivated, but very treeless; heavy 
 storm clouds, intense heat, and a long stretch of the 
 high road under serious repair by boulders, do not 
 render the drive an unmixed pleasure for the first 
 hour or two. It is the Festival of St. Peter and St. 
 Paul; all the peasants are in gala dress; many are 
 winding their way to the churches under this dedi¬ 
 cation ; others are taking out their holiday, sleeping 
 
DRESS OF THE PEASANTRY. 
 
 103 
 
 face downwards on the grass in front of their 
 cottages. 
 
 The dress of the men here is more ornamented 
 than in Wallachia. A very large broad-brimmed hat 
 covers their long back hair; the wide-sleeved, coarse 
 linen shirt, bound at the waist with a broad scarf of 
 scarlet wool, or by an embroidered leather belt; a 
 sleeveless jacket of sheepskin, the wool inwards, and 
 the leather side heavily embroidered in gaily-coloured 
 wools round the border, the armholes, and down the 
 back complete the costume, with the addition of a 
 pair of goatskin sandals made in the most primitive 
 manner. 
 
 The women here, on the contrary, are much less 
 ornamented than in the Wallachian districts ; they 
 frequently wear the same style of jacket as the meu, 
 and the girls are fond of large yellow silk handker¬ 
 chiefs on the head and shoulders. 
 
 We pass once more through Niamtz, and drive 
 to the foot of the hill on which the ruins of the 
 fortress of ‘ Stefanii celu Mare,’ or Stephen the Great, 
 frown majestically over the landscape. It surmounts 
 a great ‘ scaur ’ of red earth cliff, the little river 
 winding at the foot. The ruin is well preserved ; its 
 four corner towers, strong buttresses, and battlemented 
 
104 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 walls are thrown into bold relief by the darkly- 
 wooded mountain, and the gateway from which 
 Stephen’s mother turned back her son to make a 
 fresh resistance to the Turkish invaders still exists, 
 with the groove for the portcullis. A broad deep 
 
 moat surrounds the castle ; it is now filled with 
 beautiful trees, and the ramparts covered with grass 
 like velvet. Three tall piers of masonry that rise 
 from a deep but narrow gully probably supported 
 the drawbridge; they appear to lead towards the 
 great gateway. The ascent to the ruins is very easy. 
 
A MOUNTAIN STORM. 
 
 105 
 
 We wander ‘upwards, stopping awhile for rest and 
 shade under a leafy w T alnut-tree, then turning round 
 by the edge of the ravine reach the summit, amidst 
 beautiful wild flowers, blossoming shrubs,, and wild 
 gooseberry-bushes, laden with the small green fruit. 
 
 We could have gladly lingered in this lovely spot; 
 but some warning drops beginning to fall, obliged a 
 hasty retreat to the carriage, and soon, waterproof, 
 
 wrap, and umbrella were a joke to the pitiless down¬ 
 pour of a mountain storm. Happily such torrents, if 
 sharp, are short, and it was with tolerable composure 
 that we at length reached the kindly and hospitable 
 shelter of Agapia, to collect our luggage, take leave 
 of the good Maicas, and of little Sora Katerina, and 
 to set out once more in search of ‘ fresh fields and 
 convents new.’ 
 
 On this occasion our next halting-place, the 
 
] 06 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 monastery of Veratic, was near at hand; less than 
 an hour’s drive from Aghpia, through leafy lanes, by 
 rich pasture lands and rippling streamlets, to a green, 
 flower-bespangled valley nearly surrounded by oak 
 and beech and pine-covered hills. 
 
 This conventual colony (for that seemed the more 
 fitting term) was reached through an untidy strag¬ 
 gling village, which ran up to the very gate of the 
 monastery. Men and women of all sorts were loung¬ 
 ing about; Jew pedlars spread their wares, and were 
 engaged in vociferous bargaining; it was all pain¬ 
 fully in contrast with the order, peace, and quiet of 
 Aghpia. 
 
 A fat, good-humoured Ma'ica, c Ar Fundarah ’ 
 (Superintendent of the Guest-house), benign but 
 common-place, issues from the foot of the staircase 
 under the Cloportnitza, and leads us into a room on 
 the first floor, the best in the ‘ Fundarik,’ where we 
 are quickly followed by our modest luggage, borne 
 upwards by a brilliant being, whose linen shirt is 
 heavily adorned with spangles ; he wears flowers 
 in his hat. 
 
 The room, the linen, everything in short is unmis¬ 
 takably dirty, and the dinner—of the same inferior 
 quality—is served in an untidy little room, in 
 
VEBATXC. 
 
108 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 company with an old man and his son, commercial 
 travellers, who had also claimed the hospitality of 
 the convent on their way to the mineral baths of 
 Slanik for the lad’s health. 
 
 Milk is unattainable, as £ the cows are all away in 
 the forest ’—our tin of preserved milk had come to 
 grief early in our wanderings—so the solacing cup 
 of tea has to be relinquished, and very weary after 
 our long day’s journey we retire—but not—to rest! 
 The history of that night’s sufferings may remain 
 unwritten. I had met with the same years before 
 in the Khans among the Pindus mountains—and— 
 survived ! We experience no yearning desire to pass 
 a month in the monastery of Veratic. 
 
 The next morning brings the usual ‘gliko’ and 
 water, followed by milk coffee in the untidy little 
 refectory, and at midday a sufficiently good dinner. 
 They are evidently trying to do the right thing by 
 us, and we take heart. We are to leave in the after¬ 
 noon, and in the meanwhile make a wandering 
 survey of the vast establishment and enclosure. 
 
 The church in the centre of the quadrangle is 
 a splendid building; the exterior glittering with 
 metal plates covering the domes, sprinkled with gold 
 stars on the roofing of the cupolas. At a distance 
 
ATTRACTIVE £ SISTERS. 
 
 109 
 
 these cupolas gleam like burnished gold against the 
 dark background of the pine-clad mountains. The 
 interior is gorgeous with its painted and gilded 
 screen, its pictures of saints, its carving, the glitter 
 of lamps, and the rich binding of the missals; an 
 intensity of ornament everywhere. 
 
 A lady passing near the entrance-door as we 
 are leaving, stops to look for a moment at the quite 
 unique vision of western tourists, and we are 
 delighted to find that she speaks French, and can 
 give much information about the place. It appears 
 that the convent for many reasons has gone down 
 in the world considerably, although it still numbers 
 between three and four hundred ‘ religieuses.’ In 
 former days, when women of all ages could enter 
 these monastic communities, it is said that many 
 of the young ‘sisters’ of Veratic were of surpassing 
 beauty, and proved a source of attraction to the 
 outer world, very much opposed to the rule and 
 discipline of conventual life. Now the community 
 is growing old, no fresh younger element being 
 admissible ; the Lady Superior is herself very old; 
 she is, in addition, deaf, decrepit, nearly blind, and 
 altogether incapable. Everything bears a very dif¬ 
 ferent aspect to the respectable calm of Agapia, 
 
110 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 and no one will be much surprised to learn one 
 day that the beautiful monastery of Veratic has 
 been converted into a hospital, a prison, or a 
 penitentiary. 
 
 Our French-speaking acquaintance invites us to 
 the small cottage belonging to the community which 
 she has taken for the warm months; it stands on 
 the borders of the pine forest, and she has brought 
 here her delicate young daughter to benefit by the 
 healthful scent of the pine woods. We linger awhile 
 to sketch the monastery, most beautifully situated 
 on the mountain slope, and then follow the lady 
 to her temporary home. 
 
 It is very simple ; two small rooms open on to 
 a broad balcony, commanding the exquisite view of 
 mountain, wood, and valley ; on the ground-floor 
 beneath, a kitchen and servants’ room, all sufficiently 
 though very simply furnished. There are outhouses, 
 and a large garden full of fruit and vegetables ; it 
 opens directly on the pine forest. The entire charge 
 is £1 12s. a month. It is almost worth the expense 
 of the journey from Bucharest to spend a month or 
 two in this pure pine-scented air. 
 
 The golden pinnacles of the monastery are ablaze 
 in the westering sunbeams, the brown roofs and 
 
MINERAL BATHS. 
 
 Ill 
 
 creamy white pilasters of the balconies glow amidst 
 the leafy setting, or against the blue distance of 
 the fertile valley, as our vehicle clatters up from 
 Niamtz with its rope harness jauntily shaking, and 
 our faithful Bar on the coach-box. The spingle- 
 spangle young porter, with a fresh tuft of flowers 
 in his hat, has caught up our belongings; the jolly 
 and commonplace Ma'ica Ar-Fundarah stands under 
 the Cloportnitza to bid us farewell ; and we set out 
 to drive through lovely lanes perfumed with wild 
 roses, fresh hay, and all sweet scents, towards the 
 mineral baths of Balteteshti. In less than an hour 
 we arrive. It is a large boarding-house, nearly new, 
 and as yet very clean. We find the attendance 
 excellent, the table most liberal, and the charges 
 moderate. 
 
 The house is quite full, especially of families 
 having sickly children, as these mineral waters are 
 esteemed very efficacious in children’s disorders, and 
 the large and very deep covered balcony running 
 the whole length of the building has been especially 
 made for their convenience as a play-ground. The 
 baths are on the opposite side of the road, and 
 beside the principal house stands a large old wooden 
 tenement, a sort of khan, where poorer patients are 
 
112 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 received on very modified terms, if not indeed 
 gratuitously. 
 
 The founder and director of the establishment is 
 a clever medical man practising at Piatra; he opens 
 the baths of Balteteshti for two months during the 
 hot season, and many Moldavian families come here, 
 although there are numerous mineral springs and 
 baths throughout the country. 
 
 A fairly good band of musicians executed a very 
 limited selection of airs—national and operatic— 
 in the course of the day. They were in full force 
 
 at the time of the table d'hote , taking up their 
 
 stand on the lower verandah; instrumental music 
 was varied by singing, and the principal performer, 
 who had a really fine and powerful voice, amused 
 us much by placing himself at the open window, 
 looking into the room, and pouring the full strength 
 of his lungs amongst the company, who, grievous 
 
 to relate, paid but very slack attention to his 
 
 strenuous efforts. 
 
 One evening it was announced that a ball was 
 to take place in a reception-room belonging to the 
 hotel, a ball to which the ‘ rank and fashion ’ of 
 the neighbouring town of Piatra was expected to 
 come in force. The circumstance was rather ex- 
 
MILD DISSIPATION. 
 
 113 
 
 citing; it was the first attempt in that remote place 
 to imitate the gay doings of the fashionable German 
 baths. The doctor was evidently anxious that his 
 enterprise should be a success, and impress the 
 Englishers with the advanced civilization of the 
 Eastern Carpathians. Alas ! the ball was mild, very 
 mild—indeed, perfectly flat. The ‘rank and fashion ’ 
 of Piatra, if existent, was invisible. A few people 
 sat around the dancing-room ; a feeble attempt at 
 waltzing was made by two or three nervous couples, 
 frightened at their own temerity, who quickly sub¬ 
 sided, and the sparkling entertainment dying a 
 natural death, we retired from the scene. 
 
 Our plan for the following day was a visit to the 
 small monastery of Horaitza, in the depth of the 
 wild forest that lies to the east of Balteteshti, but 
 when the appointed hour arrived no carriage ap¬ 
 peared. All vehicles had to be brought from Niamtz, 
 distant an hour and a half, and we waited rather 
 impatiently as time went on, until at length poor 
 Bar appeared, very crestfallen and annoyed; he had 
 only succeeded in capturing and bringing for in¬ 
 spection a miserable basket-cart, drawn by one 
 small horse !—and this was to convey five people to 
 Horaitza and back. 
 
114 
 
 UNTKODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 To delay would have been useless; we resigned 
 ourselves, hoping for the best, and really, at first, 
 progressed tolerably, taking the high road to Piatra; 
 but after about half-an-hour’s smooth driving we 
 turned oft towards the mountains by an uncertain 
 by-way, cut up by streamlets to be forded. The 
 road also was full of mudholes, where the wretched 
 little vehicle often sank to the axle. Lono- before 
 
 O 
 
 reaching this desperate condition F— and I preferred 
 walking, though obliged to mount at the fords, and 
 pressing onwards towards a beautiful wooded gorge, 
 soon forgot our small tribulations in admiration of the 
 sweet sylvan beauty of the place. Such exquisite 
 woodland scenery!—such banks of flowers, mosses, 
 ferns! Here and there great clumps and clusters of 
 a lovely blossom grew in the deep cool shade, a plant 
 rather resembling the nettle in form, but with a 
 peculiarity that I had never before met with; the 
 leaves, gradually turning into blossoms, are green at 
 the lower part of the slender stem, taking as they 
 rise a violet tinge until the topmost flowers (or leaves ?) 
 display the most beautiful clear violet mingled with 
 brilliant orange petals. This wild flower is known 
 in Russia, and familiarly called ‘John and Mary.’ I 
 have never seen it elsewhere than in Moldavia. 
 
ARCADIA PROFANED. 
 
 115 
 
 Great tufts of these graceful blossoms waved 
 beneath the wide-spreading beeches ; rough oxen 
 laboriously drag thick branches towards some further 
 forest dell, from which the faint sound of a saw¬ 
 mill comes on the pine-scented breeze. It is more 
 beautiful, more wildly picturesque, as each step 
 brings us nearer to the yet unseen monastery, but 
 the saw-mill is at length visible, and, to our intense 
 disgust, we find it worked by steam! A genuine 
 old-fashioned water-mill would have been thoroughly 
 in keeping with the scenery, but a steam-engine in 
 these wilds !—desecration ! 
 
 The little monastery of Hora'itza is reached by a 
 bit of road so steep, that not only was the wicker 
 basket empty, but it seemed at first advisable to 
 reverse the usual order of things, and to push the 
 poor little horse upwards from behind ; but he did at 
 length gain the summit, and we passed through the 
 picturesque ‘ Cloportnitza ’ into the enclosure of the 
 convent; the quadrangle, as usual, surrounds the 
 church, with some simple cottages possessing more 
 or less of gardens. 
 
 We had met the Superior at the foot of the hill; 
 he was escorting to their cariole four visitors, Ma'fcas 
 from Agapia and Agafton. This reverend Staritz 
 
116 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 does not return during our short stay, and having 
 carried off the keys of the store of dulces, our 
 refreshment was, unavoidably, of the simplest, to the 
 great chagrin of a good ‘ Parente ’ who had met us 
 as we laboured up the hill, and turned back on his 
 
 steps to lead the way into the monastery, and to 
 make up in cordial welcome and kindliness for the 
 failure of the conventual resources. 
 
 The worthy man, with considerable satisfaction, 
 conducts us to the church, which has been freshly 
 restored and (said he) beautified. The interior is 
 
A WILD MAN OF THE WOODS. 
 
 117 
 
 hideous, completely stencilled throughout in a fright¬ 
 ful and utterly common-place pattern; but the 
 community is very proud of this unusual style, as 
 an elegant novelty in church decoration. 
 
 An old man is busy plastering the entrance-gate 
 as we pass through it to the carriage, an old man 
 with a very dark brown face and the strangest mop 
 of snow-white hair ever seen, very thick, very bushy, 
 and growing low down upon the forehead; he looked 
 like an aged wild man of the woods. 
 
 The return to Balteteshti was accomplished prin¬ 
 cipally on foot in pity to the miserable horse, but 
 we contrived to secure for him a good supper of 
 oats on his reaching his poor stable at Niamtz. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 SECU AND SIKLA. 
 
 The Monastery of S4cu— Its Founders — Former strength and 
 importance — Parente Seraphim—The Visitors’ Book — Our 
 Ox-cart—Armed Monks—Splendid Forest Tracks—A Perilous 
 Ascent—A ‘ mauvais pas ’—Monastery of Sikla—The Little 
 Church—The mild vanity of Parents Samuel—The Descent— 
 A Storm and Galloping Oxen—Their Names. 
 
 Two of our party, only, set out on the little excursion 
 to the remote monasteries of S(icu and Sikla, on 
 mountain heights that nearly overshadow Aghpia. 
 We were to be absent but for one night, and thus, 
 unencumbered with luggage, obtained a good carriage 
 with two horses for seventeen francs. 
 
 The road lay in the direction of the Niamtz monas¬ 
 tery, but before reaching it, we turn off on the left 
 hand, and soon are winding through leafy glades and 
 lanes and the dark majesty of noble forest growth, 
 with glimpses of distant blue and violet hills; then 
 a rougher track opens out, a few shallow streamlets 
 are crossed, and the fortified walls of Secu, with its 
 metal cupolas, gleam through the dark foliage. 
 
MONASTERY OF SECU. 
 
 119 
 
 We stop at the great entrance-gate; there is a 
 moment of hesitating inspection by a thin and woe¬ 
 begone looking 11 father,’ who is standing at the foot 
 of the wooden staircase leading to the Guest-rooms, 
 but we are evidently voted ‘ not dangerous,’ and 
 the Parent^ Arfundarah quickly appearing with the 
 
 customary welcome, soon made us feel quite at 
 home for the time being. The momentary though 
 unspoken inquiry on the part of the attendant-— 
 Parentb Samuel—was quite natural under the circum¬ 
 stances, for we afterwards learn that we are quite the 
 first English visitors to this far-away monastery of 
 
120 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 the Carpathians; with scarcely an exception, this 
 was the case with the eleven Moldavian monasteries 
 visited during our little tour, and we may be justified 
 in thinking that we have thus inaugurated a fresh 
 scheme of holiday excursion. 
 
 Our host of the Guest-house, Parente Seraphim, is 
 very merry and hospitable, with an eye to the main 
 chance, and a certain appreciation of foreigners as 
 possible benefactors. 
 
 While dinner is in progress we pay our visit of 
 respect to the aged and venerable Superior of Sdcu, 
 a quiet and very subdued old gentleman, rather over¬ 
 shadowed by the exuberance of our jovial entertainer, 
 who afterwards takes us into the church. It is not a 
 remarkable building, but is interesting as containing 
 the tombs of the founders of the monastery—Nestor 
 and his wife Metrofana—placed in deep niches in the 
 wall behind the choir-stalls. The foundress survived 
 
GLORIES OF PAST DAYS. 
 
 121 
 
 her husband, and she passed the last years of her life, 
 and died, in rooms in the massive square tower on the 
 left of the entrance. 
 
 Sion was once strongly fortified, and sustained 
 some fierce assaults; it resisted an attack by the 
 Turks until reduced by famine, and its last mention 
 in Eoumanian annals is the despairing action of 
 Georgaki, an associate of Ypsilantis, who blew up a 
 part of the fortifications and perished there with the 
 remnant of his fierce Pandours. 
 
 Seen, now inhabited by only sixty monks, was 
 organized to receive a much greater number, as may 
 be judged by the dimensions and faded glories of the 
 great refectory, with its long tables and benches, and 
 the once brilliantly gilt and coloured pulpit for the 
 reader. The kitchen is on the same scale, with an 
 enormous cauldron for making the ‘ mamaliga,’ when 
 the convent was crowded by visitors and peasantry on 
 occasion of the great festivals. But these prosperous 
 days are but memories; the grass is sprouting between 
 the flagstones of the dreary, neglected kitchen, and 
 around the monstrous cauldron; the poorly-dressed 
 brethren wander aimlessly about the decaying wooden 
 balconies; but the vigorous energies of Parente Sera¬ 
 phim find useful employment in manufacturing what 
 
122 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 lie calls ‘ eau de melisse; ’ in the invention of an 
 ingenious trap for fish (sent to the great Paris Exhi¬ 
 bition, and honourably noticed), and in selling these 
 traps, with wooden spoons, woollen chaplets, and 
 anything else for which an opening may offer. 
 
 He superintends also the preparations for dinner 
 in the Guest-house, and the ‘ mamaliga ’ is certainly 
 most excellent—a stiff porridge of maize-flour served 
 on a wooden platter and cut with a string; it is 
 sometimes made with layers of cheese. 
 
 A large book is kept in the ‘ Fundarik ’ for 
 receiving the names of visitors, and in this, though 
 looking back through several years, Roumanian 
 names only appear, with two exceptions—a French 
 lady and gentleman who had visited Secu a fortnight 
 previously, and one other Frenchman several years 
 before. 
 
 Very early the next morning we are on our way to 
 the monastery of Sikla, on a still higher summit of 
 the Carpathians, drawn in a long, narrow cart (formed 
 of unfixed planks), by four beautiful cream-coloured 
 oxen. These carts, in which scarcely anything is fixed, 
 and that bend and sway and seem to threaten instant 
 dislocation,—yet hold together,—can pass with safety 
 along tracks where a more solid vehicle would inevit- 
 
AN ARMED ESCORT. 
 
 123 
 
 ably perish. A thick lining of hay is raised up at 
 the back to form a kind of seat, and covered with 
 rugs, but the sitter must struggle against a constant 
 tendency to slide gently downwards towards the 
 bottom. At the other end of our cart is crouched 
 Parent^ Samuel, whom the Superior of Secu has sent 
 as our especial attendant. There is a driver to each 
 pair of oxen, and we are further protected by two 
 powerful-looking monks, mounted and armed—one 
 with a pistol, which he discharges at intervals for 
 the intimidation of possible brigands; the other with 
 a large dagger-knife thrust into his high boot, and 
 delicately shaded by a checked handkerchief. These 
 men are dressed in thick brown serge, fastened round 
 the waist by a cord; they wear brown felt brimless 
 caps. Our interpreter, also mounted, hovers round 
 the party. 
 
 We roll along very pleasantly at first, over 
 meadows glowing with wild blossoms and tall 
 flowering grasses, through rippling streamlets, and 
 up and down a gentle bank or two. We enter the 
 forest in high spirits, but soon the branches, so gently 
 waving in the open country, become obtrusive as the 
 path narrows, although Parentb Samuel, as long as 
 practicable, carefully guides them away. Gradually 
 
124 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 the forest scenery takes a wilder, more rugged look, 
 and we begin to ascend a road full of deep ruts and 
 dark marshy bogs. Sometimes a large gray boulder, 
 over which the oxen drag the cart; it strains and 
 shivers in every plank; then a deep hole into which 
 we plunge, while the drivers goad or encourage the 
 toiling, willing beasts for the reascending effort. 
 Parent^ Samuel has leapt out some time before; he 
 hangs on to the upper side of the cart whenever the 
 wheels appear to near the edge of the track. Our 
 mounted escort has separated; one rides in front care¬ 
 fully watching the steps of the oxen and the passage 
 of the front wheels, while the other as carefully 
 examines the movement in the rear; they shout 
 directions to the drivers; the drivers scream at the 
 oxen. 
 
 The scenery is wildly grand; gigantic lime-trees, 
 birch, and oak, tower above us to an amazing height; 
 then firs and pine-trees only. On every side immense 
 trunks, some with their spreading branches, have 
 fallen, and must decay as they lie, half-buried in 
 gray mosses and hoary beard like lichens. One 
 monarch of the forest had stretched its splendid 
 length across the track. It has been sawn through ; 
 to remove it was impossible. 
 
A PERILOUS ASCENT. 
 
 125 
 
 More fearful dips and agonized jerks upwards, as the 
 oxen strain every muscle and sinew. Now the moun¬ 
 tain falls away in a steep precipice on the left, and 
 amidst boulders, rocks, mudholes, quagmires, tangled 
 branches, and fallen trunks, we go slowly on, ever 
 and again with a tendency to overhang the precipice, 
 for the track slopes gently towards the outer edge, 
 and the way is slippery with fallen and sodden 
 leaves. The directing ‘fathers/ still one in front, 
 one in the rear, watch more anxiously now; we have 
 reached the worst ‘ bit ’ of the road—a short, but 
 very steep ascent—-with a yet more pronounced slope 
 towards the precipice. More screaming of the drivers ; 
 more straining efforts of the goaded beasts ; hurried 
 orders; a sickening feeling that a false move, a 
 broken tire-pin, might send us hopelessly down into 
 that measureless abyss—and w T e are safe ! There are 
 more bogs, more boulders, more turnings and wind¬ 
 ings and suppressed terrors; but Parent^ Samuel 
 has quietly resumed his place amid the hay, and we 
 know that all danger is over. 
 
 At length the rustic barrier is passed; a pistol 
 is fired off to announce the approach of guests, and 
 on a grassy plateau in the midst of the forest, stands 
 the poor little monastery of Sikla. 
 
126 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 A mild-looking ‘ father,’ who proved to be Staritz, 
 Economo, and Parente Arfundarah all in one, came 
 forward to greet ns, while a pale and rather tattered 
 neophyte helped in releasing the wearied oxen and 
 unloading the cart. 
 
 They are three in this dreary solitude, besides a 
 few young boys attending to the cattle. They are 
 
 all brothers, and the nephews of the Staritz. He 
 is a venerable and kindly old man, not in the least 
 fluttered by the arrival of foreign ladies, although the 
 first he has ever seen. He leads us to a very shaky 
 wooden balcony, where we find a rough log table, 
 and some planks as benches. £ He has,’ he says, 
 £ nothing to offer us but a kindly welcome, good 
 
MONASTERY OF SIKLA. 
 
 127 
 
 mountain air, and pure water.’ Later lie brings us 
 a little milk; but Parente Samuel has taken his 
 precautions, and produces luncheon. They make a 
 £ mamaliga ’; there is cheese, delicate bread, and a 
 bottle of Father Seraphim’s eau de melisse, which, 
 sipped incautiously, nearly takes away the roof of 
 my mouth. 
 
 We wander on the hill-side to sketch. The church 
 of Sikla is a poor little building, entirely of gray 
 wooden planks; the roof also formed of thin strips 
 of wood laid closely row upon row. This is a common 
 style of roofing throughout the country. The small 
 monastery, containing three or four apparently un¬ 
 furnished rooms above the rude cowsheds ; a covered 
 fountain, one or two barns, and a strong log fence, 
 occupy the whole of the grassy clearing in the forest. 
 On the right, between the richly clothed mountain 
 peaks, you see the blue vapoury outline of the plain 
 towards Niamtz. On the left hand rises the bold 
 gray crag, draped with creepers and mountain-ash, 
 which overhangs the monastery; on the summit, the 
 little chapel of St. Theodora and the hermit’s cave. 
 
 Who this saintly recluse may have been we did 
 not learn, but the chapel dates from a very early 
 period, and St. Theodora seems to have dwelt in a 
 
128 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 natural cavern. After her death, many hermits in 
 succession availed themselves of its peaceful shelter. 
 
 One day a certain Joanitzo Paslicano, and one 
 of the Cantaeuzene family, wandering over the forest 
 in search of game, came upon the rustic hermitage, 
 and struck with the beauty of the situation, caused 
 the tiny rock chapel to he built beside the cavern 
 in memory of Saint Theodora. 
 
 Whilst waiting for the rest of the party who have 
 gone up to the summit of the crag, I sit in the calm 
 shade of the church porch and enjoy the peaceful 
 scene; the gentle drip of the fountain close at 
 hand; a little farther off, our oxen reposing on the 
 grass, and Parent^ Samuel, sitting on a shaft of the 
 cart, employs the soft leisure of the afternoon in 
 combing his beautiful raven curls. They are a rare 
 adornment, doubtless, the secret pride and happiness 
 of his sad, colourless, uneventful life, for this Parent^ 
 is one of the saddest-looking of men ; a smile would 
 seem impossible to that woe-begone countenance, 
 but he has undeniably beautiful curls, hanging 
 round from beneath the brown felt cap ; they are 
 black as jet, soft and glossy as satin, and there must 
 be an intense hidden satisfaction in the possession 
 of the shining ringlets, for (to judge by appearances) 
 
AN ABRUPT DESCENT. 
 
 129 
 
 this care of them is an almost unprecedented experience 
 in the life of Roumanian monks. 
 
 We look into the church, and on ’leaving; make a 
 small present to the good old man, for which he is 
 very grateful. He writes our names in the church 
 register, that we may be remembered in their 
 prayers, and a merry peal of bells (an unusual com¬ 
 pliment) echoes through the forest as our oxen once 
 more draw us into its wild and tangled shades. 
 
 In descending, two oxen only are used, the others 
 following, while our driver with a stout pole locks 
 the hind wheels of the cart. Sometimes a short dip 
 becomes so steep that only the tails and hindquarters 
 of the beasts are visible. The sudden effort and 
 scramble up the "opposite bank just saves us from 
 falling over them. 
 
 The worst is passed ; we are once more on level 
 ground and brushing through the trailing branches. 
 Our team, complete again, is dragging us as briskly 
 as the tortuous road will permit, when a few heavy 
 drops begin to force their way through the leaves. 
 A storm, long threatening, has burst; then a steadier 
 downpour. The thunder rolls majestically, echoing 
 from every mountain peak, nearer and nearer; the rain 
 —a torrent. Happily we are not far from the little 
 
130 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 ‘ skite ’ of Soliastria, a sort of ‘ chapel of ease ’ depend¬ 
 ent on Sdcu. We turn in that direction, and our oxen 
 break into a splendid gallop as we tear over a broad 
 meadow, and arrive in grand style at the enclosing 
 fence. There is no gateway, but this is easily 
 remedied. Some logs are removed and we dash 
 through (crushing down another division), to remain 
 
 for some time under the archway waiting for a sign 
 of welcome from the inhabitants. Seven monks 
 dwell here, but they are said to be absent in the 
 fields or in the forest, and we at length descend 
 from our moist seat to u T ait on the covered balcony 
 until the storm may pass. 
 
 There is freshly mown grass on the greensward 
 around the church, and great trusses of sweet smelling 
 
NAMES OF OXEN. 
 
 131 
 
 hay piled on a low balcony for shelter. All these 
 the oxen and the horses proceed to demolish with 
 great relish. The damage is not serious, and we 
 would have gladly compensated any one coming 
 forward with the customary welcome ; but the absence 
 of the usual cup of coffee showed that the solitary 
 
 old man, who at length flitted across the shadows 
 in the background, preferred to ignore our presence, 
 so there is no remedy, and we take the opportunity 
 of learning the names of our beautiful Moldavian 
 oxen—Douman, Pluvan, Yello, and Tchokolan; the 
 name of one of the drivers is Nirle. 
 
 After an hour’s stay we jolt comfortably back to 
 
 K 2 
 
132 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 Secu, intending to leave again immediately; but 
 Parente Seraphim’s hospitality may not be neglected. 
 A very comfortable dinner must be eaten ; the coffee 
 taken reposedly ; a farewell visit paid to the Superior ; 
 and, above all, the gratifications to be distributed. It 
 was not until the sun was throwing long shadows 
 across the mountains that we finally turned from the 
 fortress monastery of Secu—arriving at Balteteshti 
 late in the evening. 
 
 On the day following we reached Piatra. There was 
 great difficulty at first in procuring a lodging, as an 
 important trial was going on, which had drawn 
 together a crowd of people more or less interested in 
 the matter; but after an uncomfortable night passed 
 in a Jewish hostelry, we were fortunate enough to 
 obtain rooms in the Hotel Bistritza—not at all a 
 magnificent hotel, but tolerably clean, very reasonable 
 and honest, and managed by most obliging people. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 P1ATEA-DURAU-THE RAFT. 
 
 Environs of Piatra—Monastery of Bistritza—Tomb of Alexander 
 the Good—The River Bistritza—Moldavian Peasantry—Dif¬ 
 ficult Forest Tracks—At Durau—A forgotten Community— 
 View of Tchaklau—A Peaceful Retreat—Transylvanians— 
 The Summit of Tchaklau—Lilies—A Venerable Archiman. 
 drite—An Infant Miser—Hangu—Making the Raft—Vexa¬ 
 tious Delays—A False Start—The Gipsy Raftsman—Rain, 
 Rapids, and Rocks—Dexterous Handling of the Raft—A 
 Melancholy Landing—An Unexpected Collapse—Bodily and 
 Mental Friction—Zeklers. 
 
 Piatra, a small town on the river Bistritza, is "beau¬ 
 tifully situated at the base of rather rugged hills, but 
 having a view of a fine range of wooded mountains 
 on the opposite side of the stream, and—looking 
 upwards—the majestic summit of Tchaklau, rising 
 into the clouds some 8000 feet on the northern 
 horizon. 
 
 It is an untidy, dusty-looking place, but the out¬ 
 skirts are charming, and make one forget the dirt and 
 squalor of the lower quarters, inhabited principally 
 
134 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 by Jews. The old fire-tower and belfry is a 
 quaint object near St. John’s church, and turning 
 round the base of this we are quickly in the cool, 
 fiower-scented suburbs, passing a large public garden 
 and some pretty villas, from whence the breeze comes 
 laden with the perfume of roses and mignonette; the 
 peasants’ cottages gleam white against the back¬ 
 
 ground of orchard and leafy slopes, or retire softly 
 shaded by the rustic verandahs and the deep eaves. 
 Beyond the river, the mountains rise and fall with 
 broad meadows and sunny uplands, dotted with 
 farms ; above, the thick forest of beech and oak, 
 and, finally, the pine-clad summits. 
 
 We reach the large monastery of Bistritza while it 
 is still early—(we have left Piatra at five in the 
 
MONASTERY OF BISTRITZA. 
 
 135 
 
 morning)—and alight in the grassy precincts of the 
 church, but it is not long before the Superior comes 
 to welcome us, while an attendant hands the tray of 
 dukes and coffee. 
 
 H 
 
 This monastery of Bistritza is one of the most 
 important of those still left in Roumania ; it was 
 founded by Alexander the Good—Domnu or Voivode 
 of Moldavia—in 1430; his tomb, as well as that of 
 
136 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROTJMANIA. 
 
 Ills first wife, Domna Ana, are shown on the left- 
 hand-side of a large and richly-decorated ante-chapel. 
 The tomb of a son of Stephen the Great lies on the 
 right of the entrance. 
 
 1 lie interim of the church is very handsome, 
 entiiely painted and gilded ; the screen is a blaze 
 
 of gold and colours, but 
 the whole effect is har¬ 
 monized by the rich brown 
 of the carved stalls, and 
 the soft tone of the beauti¬ 
 fully sculptured doorways 
 and mouldings of the 
 windows. 
 
 The Superior of the 
 monastery is a good-look¬ 
 ing and very courteous man in the prime of life, and 
 this place is a favourite aim of excursions for the 
 inhabitants of Piatra and the surrounding neigh¬ 
 bourhood. 
 
 Once more on the road that winds round a spur 
 of the mountains, another large monastery comes 
 into view—Bisericiinu—looking in the distance, with 
 its shiniug cupolas and whitened towers, like a cluster 
 of snowdrops in billowy masses of green ; but this 
 
TRAVELLING ON RAFTS. 
 
 137 
 
 is no longer a monastery; it is a convict prison, and 
 the same may be said of the strong, turreted, gray 
 fortress—once the monastery of Pingariciora-—that 
 crowns a further wooded height. 
 
 On the left of the road the river Bistritza runs 
 swirling and seething over 
 
 slight rapids, and we watch 
 with great interest the skilful 
 manner in which the rafts of 
 wood are guided over them— 
 for our return to Piatra is to 
 be made on one of these rafts. 
 
 The road has been good, 
 with solid bridges crossing 
 the stream until we reach the 
 straggling village of Hangu, 
 where a violent storm—never 
 long absent from these moun¬ 
 
 
 tainous regions—drives us for 
 
 shelter to a rough wayside inn. It is also a general 
 shop where almost everything is sold, except the first 
 necessary of life—bread. The people appear to feed 
 solely on £ mamaliga,’ with an abundance of rich 
 milk. Butter is unknown; the only preparation of 
 milk is salted cheese and sometimes sweet curds. 
 
138 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 They seem a hardy race, notwithstanding the extreme 
 frugality of their diet; the men are strong and 
 vigorous; the women upright and healthy-looking, 
 taking more than their full share in all heavy manual 
 labour. 
 
 A rustic wedding was going on somewhere in the 
 
 O O O 
 
 \ 
 
 environs, and we were surrounded by peasants in 
 gala dress, as we sketched the view from the pillared 
 platform of the little inn; but the rain ceasing, we 
 set out once more, hoping to reach the secluded 
 monastery of Durau by daylight: we intend there 
 to pass the night and the following day—Sunday. 
 
 Our difficulties begin here. The well-made road 
 
A ROUGH MOUNTAIN TRACK. 
 
 139 
 
 lias ceased at Hangu, and we enter on a rough, 
 stony mountain track, crossed by innumerable stream¬ 
 lets. They are not deep, but the driver is misty in 
 his judgment as to the proper fords, carrying the 
 shaky little carriage over great boulders and across 
 rotten planks—till two of us jump out to lighten 
 the strain for the weary little' horses, that have been 
 in harness since three a.m., with scarcely any food 
 during the day, and they become at length so weak, 
 that they stop and begin to slide backwards at the 
 faintest rise in the ground—necessitating, on each 
 occasion, a rapid and undignified descent into the mud. 
 
 We pass a large saw-mill, from which the fresh 
 planks are being floated down to the river in wooden 
 troughs raised about a foot from the ground. Some¬ 
 times a workman will take passage on one of these 
 planks, balancing himself with wonderful dexterity, 
 and shooting out of sight like lightning. 
 
 Another half-hour in this beautiful wilderness, 
 and we pass into the rustic enclosure of the monastery. 
 We creep once more into the old cabriolet, as respect¬ 
 ability requires a dignified arrival, and the driver 
 hints at savage dogs, so we drive solemnly through 
 the archway, and stop in the grassy precincts of the 
 church. A magnificent dog, as large as a St. Bernard, 
 
140 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 has trotted out to meet us ; he inspects the party 
 with anxious and careful inquiry, decides that we 
 are innocent and friendly, and escorts us to the 
 door of a balconied dwelling, where a venerable and 
 
 slightly astonished £ father ’ comes forward with a 
 kindly, calm, and dignified greeting; but explains 
 with regret that there is no suitable provision for 
 the accommodation of visitors, as the monastery of 
 Durau receives no allowance from the State. It stands 
 
A FORGOTTEN COMMUNITY. 
 
 141 
 
 on the property of a wealthy family, and having 
 been long neglected and forgotten by the proprietor 
 (lately dead, the owner of untold millions), the poor 
 little community is reduced to its own resources for 
 a bare subsistence. Strangers rarely visit this place ; 
 foreigners and tourists are legendary. They have 
 
 a tradition that about thirty years ago, a shooting 
 party of gentlemen from Galatz came here and 
 climbed the summit of Tchaklau, and no subsequent 
 arrivals of our countrymen have occurred to confuse 
 this recollection. The community numbers twenty 
 monks, living in the precincts, and in detached 
 cottages embowered in orchards. 
 
142 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 They gave us of their best; but there was no bread 
 procurable, no meat, no fowl; only mamaliga, milk, 
 hard cheese, and a few eggs. Our host, the Archi¬ 
 mandrite, prepares the dinner, waits upon us at table 
 aided by a neophyte, and then sits with us for 
 company. 
 
 From the wooden verandah before our windows 
 we look upon lofty mountains and primeval forest, 
 the majestic ruggedness of Tchaklau, now shrouded 
 in tossing vapours, now lighted with dazzling sunshine 
 as it falls on the granite peaks, or on the velvet sward 
 carpeting the narrow gullies between the ‘ aiguilles ’ 
 of pale gray rock ; below, the encircling belt of sombre 
 pines ; lower still, the brighter tone of chestnut, 
 beech, and oak, breaks into clearings of soft meadow 
 land, across which rude fences wander, and so on to 
 the peaceful oasis of the convent enclosure. The 
 forest screen breaks away on the right hand, behind 
 the deep-eaved cottages, where the rush of unseen 
 waters rises from the leafy ravine. 
 
 On the left of our verandah stands the inevitable 
 white-washed church. It is—as a foreground object 
 in the picture—the only blot upon its beauty ; but 
 we try to forget it in the rustic charm of the humble 
 little fountain on the dower-strewn grass, the wooden 
 
A PEACEFUL SCENE. 
 
 143 
 
 bell-tower and the c cloportnitza.’ On either side, 
 the monastic cottages with their broad balconies; 
 some with the basement and the gray wooden pilasters 
 half smothered in pink and crimson roses, with tall 
 white heads of lily and trailing wreaths of clematis ; 
 all sweet odours that mingle with the scent of new- 
 
 made hay from the grassy slopes. Now and then 
 a dark-robed figure wanders across the sunlight; he 
 goes perhaps to the church, or to fill a ‘ cofitza ’ 
 at the ever-dripping fountain; they are mostly very 
 old and infirm. 
 
 Parent^ Hilarion in the next cottage has a distress¬ 
 ing cough ; as we sit by invitation on his verandah, 
 
144 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 and endeavour to retain in our sketch-books the 
 memory of this calm, sweet rest, he can be heard 
 between his paroxysms, instructing a young neophyte 
 in the elements of monastic literature. The boy 
 Georghi, having finished his lesson, comes out to 
 stare at us, and remains calmly enough while we 
 turn the pencils on him ; but looking conscious of 
 the unusual gaze: when he finally walks off, and 
 
 begius to contemplate the prospect on his own 
 account, he proves a much more picturesque little 
 subject. 
 
 Soon after this, our scene is animated by brighter 
 figures—a dozen or so of Transylvanians, men and 
 women. They had crossed the border—very near to 
 this part—in search of harvesting work, to sleep one 
 night in the monastery, go to mass in the morning, 
 
A HASTY SKETCH. 
 
 145 
 
 and pursue their road on the lower spurs of Tchaldau. 
 There is little difference in dress to distinguish, these 
 people from the Roumanians, but they are fairer; 
 probably descendants from the Saxon colonies brought 
 into Transylvania in the twelfth century. Two of the 
 women have light hair and blue eyes; one is exceed¬ 
 
 ingly pretty. As they were leaving, a man and 
 his wife were persuaded, by the promise of a silver 
 piece, to stand still for a few minutes; but they 
 were impatient to follow their friends, who, with 
 bags slung over their shoulders, were wending their 
 way across the grass, so the sketch was hastily 
 finished, the coin grasped, and the whole cheerful 
 
146 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 party disappeared through the broad archway into 
 the forest depths beyond. 
 
 The bar and mallet sounded the familiar call 
 to prayer, and some worshippers gather from the 
 cottages around, adjusting their black veils before 
 entering the sacred edifice. There is a poor old man 
 
 nearly bent double with age and rheumatism ; another 
 who is lame ; then, the possessor of that fearful cough. 
 He shrouds himself as well as may be from the drench¬ 
 ing rain—for a heavy mountain shower is falling— 
 and is followed by his little pupil, Georghi. 
 
 We had given up the attempt to climb to the 
 rocky summit of Tchaklau—the highest in the Car¬ 
 pathians—but advised our interpreter to make the 
 
STATUE OF BABA DOKIA. 
 
 147 
 
 ascent with a guide—both mounted—to search for 
 the iron cross said to have been erected there. 
 Towards evening he came back, reporting the way 
 very difficult; he had seen the iron cross, and 
 brought back an armful of flowers and mosses, with 
 
 O 
 
 several specimens of the eidelweiss. The gigantic 
 statue of Baba Dokia (the tutelary genius of the 
 Dacians) surrounded by her sheep—which was sup¬ 
 posed to crown the summit of Tchaklau—if it ever 
 existed, is quite indistinguishable by the eye of an 
 ordinary observer. 
 
 Some one had sent us, before our departure, a 
 splendid lily stuck in a piece of honeycomb ; I think 
 it was the Parente Hilarion, who is a cousin of the 
 good Staritz of Sikla, from whom we had conveyed 
 kindly greetings to this infirm £ father ’ of Durau. 
 
 By eight o’clock we have once again mounted into 
 a cart formed of unfixed planks, this time drawn by 
 only two oxen. We have received fresh presents of 
 lilies, and taken a regretful leave of our venerable 
 host, of one or two of the poor old men, and of the 
 beautiful dog, who throughout our visit had expressed 
 his cordial though dignified approval of the unusual 
 strangers. Our worthy interpreter was so much 
 touched by the sufferings of this neglected commun¬ 
 ity, and the piety and charity of the Archimandrite, 
 
 l a 
 
148 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN EOUMAN1A. 
 
 that lie could hardly tear himself away ; and we saw 
 them, as the cart turned into the leafy forest, 
 exchanging the kiss of peace and farewell. Can 
 nothing be done to give this secluded convent in the 
 heart of the Carpathians some small particle of the 
 glittering millions that the lord of these vast forests 
 could not carry with him to his grave ? 
 
 The cart jolts on, but not unpleasantly; it is safer 
 than the weakly cabriolet of our arrival, for the heavy 
 rains have swollen the streamlets, and the cart can 
 manage all sorts of ruts and pitfalls without upsetting. 
 
 We follow the beautiful forest road, with its turns 
 and windings among thick trees, and their luxuriant 
 carpeting of tall grasses and ferns. The driver’s little 
 son, at first in pursuit of a refractory cow, gives up 
 the chase, and devotes himself to opening the barriers, 
 for which, eventually, he receives a small silver piece, 
 presumably the first silver that he has ever seen; for, 
 after a look of astonishment, he sinks upon the ground 
 in a futile attempt to secrete the treasure among his 
 garments from the eye of his mamma, who is now 
 seen striding over a hedge from a neighbouring 
 cottage. The conflict is sharp but short; the mother 
 whips up the infantine miser under one of her sturdy 
 arms, and carries him wildly struggling to his home. 
 
 We have passed the saw-mills, and the road is 
 
‘ SKITE ’ OF HANGU. 
 
 149 
 
 bounded on one side by the raised trough down 
 which the planks are rushing towards the river 
 Bistritza, where the floats are made up, and the 
 wood thus conveyed to the Sereth, and thence to 
 the Danube. Every now and then there is a block 
 in the trough ; the planks accumulate, and when hard 
 pressed tumble over, but a passing workman soon 
 sets them again upon their travels. 
 
 Before reaching Repchiuni we stop the cart, and 
 walk up through a neglected orchard to inspect a 
 half-ruined building, which proves to be the ‘ skite ’ 
 of Hangu. It has a round tower, and in a country 
 so rich in beautiful scenery the situation is not 
 remarkable. A peasant who had charge of the place 
 talked incessantly to our interpreter. He bad, appar¬ 
 ently, some interminable grievance to narrate; but, 
 
150 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 I am sorry to say, bis listener, not quite making out 
 the wearisome complaint, expressed his usual senti¬ 
 ment on similar occasions—he was a £ fool man.’ We 
 were farther informed that this place was the sup¬ 
 posed refuge of some heroine in one of Dumas’ novels. 
 
 At 11.30 we arrived at Repchiuni, where we dis¬ 
 missed our ox-cart, and sat down outside a rude hut 
 to wait for the raft. We had previously met the 
 Chief Forester, who had kindly called upon us at 
 Piatra and planned out our route. He came with us 
 to the starting-place, gave orders that everything 
 should be properly arranged, directed that his best 
 raftsman should go with us, and took a polite leave, 
 saying that the construction of the raft would take 
 an hour, and that in about three hours from the time 
 of starting we should reach Piatra. 
 
 We wait, tranquilly and patiently, but after a long 
 time we begin to perceive that the men are not of 
 the same mind as the master. An hour has passed, 
 yet there is scarcely any progress in our float; first, 
 they come to a standstill for wood, and two men are 
 sent to some distant point up stream ; they do not 
 return, and our energetic friend, starting across a 
 broad meadow to discover the reason, finds them 
 seated quietly on the brink of the river, smoking. 
 
VEXATIOUS DELAYS. 
 
 ' 151 
 
 They start up and pretend haste, but still our raft 
 is very hard to build. 
 
 When all is finished, and apparently ready, it is 
 announced that some formalities have to be gone 
 through-—the consignment of the wood to be verified, 
 and a signature to be obtained, but the registrar is 
 not to be found ! Another expedition in search of 
 the missing official; more patience ! The clouds are 
 lowering ominously, and we begin to feel anxious; 
 we beguile the time in examining the raft. It is 
 very long, and worked at both ends by paddles, 
 loosely attached between wooden pegs. In the centre 
 a broad platform had been arranged, with raised back 
 and sides, and a very deep seat, where natives would 
 have crouched; had we done so, much of our subse¬ 
 quent tribulation might have been avoided. This plat¬ 
 form should have been roofed with fresh boughs, but 
 in the absence of sun we forego that embellishment, 
 though regretting the loss of the picturesque effect. 
 
 At last! at half-past three we start, and float down 
 for about a mile, when something gives way in the 
 paddle serving as rudder. We are pulled to shore, 
 steadied by a heavy stone on the rope, and lose 
 another half-hour while the men are leisurely repair¬ 
 ing the mishap. After events threw some light on 
 
152 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 these repeated hindrances to our progress down the 
 Bistritza, and we have since concluded that our rafts¬ 
 men did not intend to reach Piatra that evening, but 
 had agreed between themselves to stop at a wayside 
 hamlet, where some great festivity was going on. 
 
 Our principal raftsman was without doubt exceed¬ 
 ingly skilful. Although quite a small young man, he 
 had wonderful muscular power in his tiny, bronze- 
 coloured hands, and bare feet and ankles, like a 
 slender girl’s ; he looked like a gipsy. The man who 
 worked the rudder was an unkempt, rough being, 
 rather despised by the little gipsy, who declared that 
 his comrade was not a ‘ maestro ’ (skilled raftsman). 
 
 Now begins the first serious trouble in our hitherto 
 prosperous journey. The rain—a real disaster in our 
 exposed situation—pours steadily; it pours down in 
 such torrents that we think it must soon cease ; but 
 no, it continues—it continues for hours, and two of 
 us are drenched through and through. We sit in 
 pools of water; water eddies up over our feet; our 
 small baggage is soaking. This heavy downpour, 
 streaming from the mountains on all sides, has 
 churned up the river with wonderful rapidity, making 
 it much rougher than we had expected. It is difficult 
 to realize that we are taking a pleasure trip on the 
 
IN THE RAPIDS. 
 
 153 
 
 lovely Bistritza, and that the scenery should have 
 been glorious, bathed in evening sunlight. Even 
 seen through the rain it is very fine; the mountains 
 grandly wooded to the water’s-edge leave sometimes 
 quite a narrow gorge. There are windings innu¬ 
 merable, and many rapids, which increase in strength 
 as we advance, and the Bistritza becomes swollen 
 by the wild rushing waters of the Bicassh. The 
 rapids look like a miniature boiling sea, with curling 
 wavelets hissing and seething round the points of 
 rock; they seem to advance to meet the flood. 
 Suddenly the front man is churning the waves with 
 a circular sweep of the long paddle, one leg high 
 in air, every nerve and tendon quivering; the whole 
 weight of the small, lithe, muscular body thrown on 
 the pole, that bends and threatens to snap with the 
 strain ; then a swirl round, and suddenly the paddle is 
 immovable, and we calmly and swiftly glide onwards. 
 
 Hours pass on, and still we turn bend after bend 
 of the river. Now we are running straight for 
 a great buttress of black rock; the swift current 
 eddies round its base; the point of the raft almost 
 touches the dark jagged headland—is caught by the 
 descending rush of foaming waters, and sent quiver¬ 
 ing, but safe, almost into mid-stream. Then more 
 
154 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 eddies, with the planks of the raft gleaming through 
 the froth and foam. 
 
 In our course we had passed many smaller rafts 
 stranded and more or less dilapidated ; ours in less 
 skilful hands might well have met with some disaster ; 
 hut at length our gipsy declares that we cannot 
 reach Piatra that night; we must he landed at the 
 nearest convenient spot. Protest was useless ; the 
 day was fast sinking, gloom was settling dark and 
 drear over the swollen river and the dusky moun¬ 
 tains. In sad silence the raft is steered on to a 
 muddy bank, up which a forlorn and bedraggled 
 party climb and stumble, to reach a small hamlet 
 on the hia:h road. 
 
 Our return to Piatra was accomplished through 
 the exceeding kindness of the owner of a little 
 passing chaise, who, compassionating our distress, 
 contrived to receive three where there was only proper 
 room for one. Happily the frail carriage did not break 
 down, and the wiry little horse trotted along with his 
 increased load as if nothing unusual had happened. 
 
 We reach Piatra in a fearfully limp and helpless 
 condition. I have, unexpectedly, collapsed; am put 
 rapidly to bed, and the compassionate landlady pro¬ 
 ceeds to energetic remedies—strong friction, with 
 
A PAINFUL INFLICTION. 
 
 155 
 
 vinegar, to restore circulation. She works with 
 untiring energy all over my various bruises, until 
 I groan with agony, for one cannot get up and down 
 bullock-carts quite unscathed. They are all very 
 kind, however, and they do their utmost for us, 
 according to their lights. , 
 
 Not least among the small trials of the succeeding 
 days of weakness was the infliction of a brass band 
 in the garden of the restaurant belonging to the 
 hotel. There were times when it ‘ executed,’ with 
 short intervals, during the whole day and evening, 
 chiefly native airs, which are sometimes beautiful; but 
 the repertoire of these musicians was painfully limited, 
 and the constant recurrence of one well-known measure, 
 in which.a glaringly false note was introduced, caused 
 me much nervous expectation and dread. 
 
 On the eighth day after our sad voyage down 
 the Bistritza, we left Piatra with many mutual 
 expressions of good-will. We felt really sorry to say 
 good-bye to these worthy people, and especially to 
 the bare-footed servant, Maritza, who was even 
 more delighted with our photographs (done on the 
 premises) than with the substantial parting fee which 
 she had so well earned. 
 
 During our ride to Roman, on the way to Vienna 
 
156 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN RO OMANI A. 
 
 we chiefly note the passage of large parties of 
 Zeklers, winding along the road in their slow bullock- 
 carts, in search of field work. The women are very 
 fair, with masses of flaxen hair, which the unmarried 
 girls arrange in a most grotesque fashion, tying it 
 very high up on the head, where it is divided, twisted 
 tightly round some stiff band, and then forms two 
 monstrous rings standing out from the head as far 
 as possible ; the married women cover their heads. 
 
 AVe reach Roman after a drive of five hours, 
 paying, as we pass the barrier, the toll that is 
 exacted at the entrance of Roumanian towns; at the 
 same time the coachman is required to remove the 
 bells from his horses’ heads. 
 
WALLACHIA. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 BUKUREST-CERNICA. 
 
 Forest Clearings in Bulgaria—Hotel Brofft—Calea Yittoriei—The 
 Boulevards—The Colza Tower and Hospital—The Cathedral— 
 Old Monastery of Radu Yoda—Massacre and Rejoicings—St. 
 Spiridion—Doamna Balasha—The Brancovano Charity— 
 Gorgeous Service—A Simple Service—The Cismegiu—Violent 
 Driving—Russian Coachmen—A Marriage—The Museum— 
 Barbaric Jewelry—The ‘ Tresor ’—Vacareshti—The Mo- 
 goshai—Delightful Drive—An unexpected Valley—Wood¬ 
 land Scenery—A Reedy Marsh—The Guest-room—The ‘ Kalu- 
 gari ’ rise to the occasion—Church of St. George—The Mor¬ 
 tuary—Mode of Burial of an Archbishop—Church of St. 
 Nicholas—The Staritz and his Perfumed Garden. 
 
 We reached Bukurest, coming from Constantinople, 
 on a fine evening at the end of June 1887. It is a 
 route too well known to merit more than a passing 
 notice, but it is impossible to run over the line from 
 Varna to Rustchuk without observing with deep 
 regret the ever-increasing bareness of that once wooded 
 region—a few trees, sparsely dotted over the fields ; 
 such woodland as still remains, all undergrowth. 
 
160 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 They say that this heedless destruction is now for¬ 
 bidden ; the most energetic measures would seem to 
 be scarcely in time to save this rich and fertile country 
 from the fate of the Roumanian plains, where the 
 reckless ‘ clearings ’ have resulted in summer droughts, 
 ruining the corn trade. It is sad, also, to note the 
 absence of population—farmhouses everywhere shut 
 
 up, the fields neglected, and beautiful flowering weeds 
 in fatal abundance. After the last Russian war the 
 Mussulmans, and especially the industrious Tartar 
 families, emigrated into Turkey en masse , and few are 
 now left to reap the produce of one of the richest 
 tracts of land in Europe. 
 
 Between Giurgevo and Bukurest, as the c lightning 
 train ’ flies onwards, you pass an old fortified monas- 
 
THE HOTEL DU BOULEVARD. 
 
 161 
 
 tery on the left hand, Comana, now a convict prison, 
 but the route is otherwise quite uninteresting, and 
 the arrival at the Hotel Brofft a welcome repose after 
 the trying heat of the past twenty-four hours. The 
 great Hotel du Boulevard, burnt down a few months 
 ago, belonged to the same proprietors, and it was 
 delightful to find the obliging mistress of the larger 
 house presiding over this establishment, speaking 
 French and English, and providing (no slight recom¬ 
 mendation) most excellent tea. 
 
 The burnt hotel, just opposite to our windows, is 
 being rapidly rebuilt on a magnificent scale. Work¬ 
 men are now putting on the zinc roofing, assisted by 
 women, many of them gypsies, who carry up loads 
 of bricks and mortar. We can see them against the 
 sky-line ; there are two of them just now, bearing 
 along an enormous bucket slung on a pole. 
 
 Very many fine new buildings have sprung up 
 since our first visit to Bukurest three years ago. The 
 Calea Vittoriei, a beautiful street, extends the whole 
 length of the city, from the quay of the Dimbovitza 
 to the Chauss^e Kisselef. Several hotels, two churches, 
 the royal palace, the theatre, the different Govern¬ 
 ment offices, the garden of the Episcopie, all the clubs 
 and the finest shops are in this principal thoroughfare. 
 
 M 
 
162 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 But the pleasantest feature of Bukurest is the 
 amount of garden and masses of foliage that surround 
 the private houses and the luxurious villas, which lie 
 out of the great stream of business and traffic. 
 
 The Boulevards, divided by this Oalea Vittoriei, 
 stretches almost under the windows of our hotel. On 
 the one side it is the ‘ Boulevard de l’Academie,’ on 
 which stands the Palace of the Academy, opposite 
 to a stretch of untidy, dusty plantations, closed to 
 the public; this is dignified by the name of the 
 Botanical Garden, and adorned by the fine statue 
 of Michael the Brave, with those of Lazar, Heliade, 
 and Radulescu. On the other side the Boulevard 
 continues for a short distance, bordered by the quite 
 palatial establishment of the baths, and by a few 
 fine houses, after which it runs on in an unfinished 
 condition till it reaches the public gardens of the 
 Cismegi'u. 
 
 They are raising a magnificent pile for the new 
 Colza (or Coltea) hospital ; and, seeing the rage for 
 whitewash, or rather yellow-wash, that is rapidly 
 obliterating the only picturesque feature of the city 
 —the outside painting of the old churches—it is 
 greatly to be feared that sacrilegious brushes may 
 deface the curious little church of the hospital, with 
 
THE COLZA TO WEE. 
 
 163 
 
 its twisted columns and finely-sculptured capitals 
 ornamenting the porch, now of a softened gray 
 tone; but the ruthless renovators will not touch the 
 statue of ‘ Micheau Oantacuzeme Voivode/ beheaded 
 at Constantinople in 1714. It is a very beautiful 
 piece of sculpture, the figure dignified and impressive, 
 the drapery admirable, and the 
 purity of the white marble must 
 for a long time yet defy the 
 subtlest intentions of undesir¬ 
 able efforts. May they also 
 spare the old gateway of the 
 hospital in the massive square 
 tower, raised, they say, by the 
 soldiers of Charles XII. of 
 Sweden after the battle of Pul- 
 taw a. The tower was formerly 
 higher than at present; there 
 are some curious gargoyles round 'the upper part; a 
 fine archway leads into the court. This monument 
 would pass almost unnoticed in any city of the Old 
 World, but Bukurest possesses so little bearing the 
 stamp of even moderate antiquity, that it cannot be 
 quite overlooked. It now serves as a fixe watch-tower, 
 and the lower part is used as a dispensary ; the place 
 
164 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 is frequently crowded with people waiting their turn 
 to he admitted. 
 
 The Cathedral, not very far from this, stands on 
 a slightly rising ground towards the southern limit 
 of the city. The building is very solemn, and richly 
 coloured in the interior, where the body of St. 
 Demitrius is preserved in an embossed silver shrine 
 within a glass case. In times of public distress or 
 of drought (this last a frequently occurring calamity) 
 the shrine is carried in state about the city. The 
 Bishop’s palace, an elegant-looking building, adjoins 
 the cathedral. 
 
 We strolled up past the little old church of Bucu, 
 from which the city dates its origin and its name, 
 Bucureshti; 1 it looked more neglected than ever. 
 The works necessary for the canalization of the Dim- 
 bovitza have finished the destruction of the battle- 
 mented w T all that once brought this small church 
 within the enclosure of the important monastery of 
 Badu-Yoda, rebuilt towards the end of the sixteenth 
 century by Alexander II. A ruinous entrance to the 
 
 1 The name of the Roumanian capital, ‘ Bucureshti ’ (the City 
 of Pleasure), being derived from ‘ Bucu ’ (pleasure or contentment), 
 it may he considered that the rendering of the name adopted in 
 these pages is nearer to the original meaning than that generally 
 used in England = Bucharest. 
 
 O 
 
MASSACRE OF MUSSULMANS. 
 
 165 
 
 monastery precincts, the principal gateway further 
 on the right, and a more important church in the 
 centre of the open space, with remains of monastic 
 buildings beyond, still exist to mark the spot which 
 was once a fortress of some strength. Mention is 
 made of this place in the reports of the General 
 Comte de Langeron, an officer in the service of 
 Russia. Speaking of the first years of the present 
 century, he says— c The Croats attached to Prince 
 Ypsilanti, and protected by the Russian Consul . . . 
 menaced by the Turks, shut themselves into the 
 monastery of Radu-Voda. ... It is surrounded by 
 battlements, and very capable of defence. The Turks 
 could not force an entry, and the Croats remained 
 there shut up for several days, having plenty of pro¬ 
 visions, until finding that the Turks were in flight, 
 they issued from the monastery and massacred all 
 those Mussulmans that remained in the city or were 
 preparing to fly from it. . . . In the evening these 
 Croats paid a compliment to the General, which 
 deserves mention as giving some idea of the wild 
 customs of these barbarians. 
 
 ‘ As soon as they knew which house was destined 
 for the reception of the Russian General, they gathered 
 together all the heads of the Turks that they had cut 
 
166 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 off, and placed tliem on two rows beside the entrance, 
 on the steps, and along the gallery of the mansion, 
 putting a lighted candle before each head. Milorado- 
 vitch, who had been engaged in the city posting his 
 troops and making other military arrangements, 
 coming back late towards the house, was conducted 
 thither in triumph by the Croats. From afar he saw 
 
 and admired the illumination; but on entering the 
 court, and seeing the horrible nature of the spectacle, 
 he nearly fainted, refused to inhabit this blood¬ 
 stained palace, and only consented to return several 
 days later, and after the place had been thoroughly 
 purified.’ 
 
 The church of Radu-Voda was restored in 1859, 
 
THE BRANCOVANO CHARITY. 
 
 167 
 
 and is still in use. From a slight rise beyond the 
 bell-tower, overlooking a great part of Bukurest, the 
 beautiful crosses and chains of St. Spiridion once 
 formed a striking group of airy pinnacles. The beauty 
 of these have lately been sadly diminished, as they 
 were found to be too heavy for the roof. 
 
 A short visit was paid to the exquisite little church 
 of Stavropoulos, with its elegant portico of twisted 
 columns; it looked forlorn and unused, rank weeds 
 growing in the courtyard. With the ever-increasing 
 number of gorgeous churches, the more venerable 
 buildings are falling utterly into disfavour. 
 
 The most beautiful building of this new style is 
 undoubtedly the church of Doamna Balasha ; it forms 
 the centre of the fine group of buildings erected and 
 endowed by the once powerful family of Brancovano. 
 They are called collectively £ La Fondation Branco¬ 
 vano,’ and consist of four principal establishments— 
 the Church, a Hospital, a Church School, and an 
 Asylum for aged women. The whole of these build¬ 
 ings, within one enclosure, stands in a most beautiful 
 and highly-cultivated garden; the banks and masses 
 of bright flowers, the winding walks, the shady seats, 
 forming a mosaic of splendid colour with which the 
 gorgeous and richly-ornamented church appears in 
 
168 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 perfect harmony. Nothing can exceed the wealth 
 of decoration of this remarkable monument. Every 
 
 « 
 
 minute detail is carried to the height of finish ; the 
 screen is splendid, the richly-coloured windows, the 
 fine choral singing, and even the gorgeous boy, 
 dressed in a loose robe of crimson woven witli gold, 
 who holds a tray with pieces of the bread that had 
 been blessed, complete a striking picture. Near the 
 entrance there are some interesting fulldength por¬ 
 traits in oils of various benefactors to the church. 
 This monument was restored, embellished, and re¬ 
 opened about a year or two since. 
 
 There is a very sweet and dignified statue of the 
 foundress, Doamna Balasha, standing in the garden 
 on the right hand of the enclosure ; the head is grace¬ 
 ful without positive beauty ; the standing attitude is 
 easy; the figure, hands, and drapery are beautiful. 
 
 It was a very different service in which we took 
 part on the following Sunday ; a great repose, after 
 the glittering splendours of Doamna Balasha, to join 
 in the beautiful liturgy of our English Church, well 
 and reverently performed by the Rev. F. Kleinhenn, 
 the head of the Mission to the Jews throughout 
 Roumania. The service is held in a small but well- 
 arranged chapel connected with the school buildings. 
 
A CHARITY FAIR. 
 
 169 
 
 and, though simple, it is infinitely more appropriate 
 and suitable than some barn-like rooms in Continental 
 cities of far greater importance. 
 
 The gardens of the Cism^giu, at the extremity of 
 the Boulevard Elizabeth, are extensive and well laid 
 out; the ornamental pieces of water, now no longer 
 stagnant as formerly, are delightfully refreshing after 
 the dusty roads. A charity fair was being held under 
 the fine trees of the avenue ; bands of music in 
 different parts, some military, some by the celebrated 
 gipsy performers—-the Tsiganes. Cows were standing 
 to be milked under the shade, and a miniature rail¬ 
 way (ignominiously drawn by a rather restive donkey) 
 gave great delight to the children. 
 
 The £ Chaussee,’ at the southern extremity of 
 Bukurest, is the fashionable drive—a mild imitation 
 of the Parisian Champs Elysees. We had neither 
 time nor inclination to join the crowded promenade, 
 but we suffered intensely from the noisy rush of 
 carriages thronging past the Hotel Brofft. Every 
 one drives in Bukurest, and every one seems to con¬ 
 sider it of the highest importance to tear along the 
 crowded streets at the utmost attainable speed. 
 Naples alone, of European cities, can equal—certainly 
 not surpass—the terrible clatter and jangle that 
 
170 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 culminates about four in the afternoon, and continues 
 with scarcely diminished intensity for several hours. 
 The horses driven in the street carriages are very 
 good, and the drivers wonderfully skilful, yet in 
 the paved road beneath our window, and on a per¬ 
 fectly dry day, four unfortunate beasts went down in 
 the space of an hour or two; they were dragged up 
 again, and on they went, but the wear and tear and 
 —equine—suffering must be considerable. 
 
 The summer costume of the coachmen—a Russian 
 dress—is almost the only picturesque element in the 
 city. Instead of the winter sheepskins, they display 
 a black velvet coat reaching nearly to the feet; the 
 wide petticoat-like skirt is gathered at the waist and 
 bound with a sash or belt to match the lining, which 
 is red or blue ; a jacket closed at the throat, open in 
 front, and bordered by thickly-set metal buttons ; a 
 flat velvet cap and high boots correspond perfectly 
 with the broad pale faces and sandy hair of a Russian 
 peasant. 
 
 A marriage was being performed in the Roumanian 
 church of St. Irene as we passed by at about nine 
 o’clock in the evening ; we stepped in between two 
 rows of men standing in the porch with lighted 
 torches. The church was crowded and the heat 
 
THE MUSEUM. 
 
 171 
 
 suffocating, but the effect of the great clusters of 
 lights gathered under the central dome, partially 
 illuminating the lofty arches and handsome columns, 
 flashing on the golden and painted screen, on the 
 officiating bishop’s silver mitre, and leaving beyond 
 and around sombre depths and dim visions of darkly 
 painted walls, was exceedingly fine and impressive; 
 it was heightened, at one part of the ceremony, by 
 a really fine burst of music from some unseen choir. 
 
 The Museum occupies the left-hand wing of the 
 building of the Academy. It opens at eleven o’clock, 
 to close again at one—a very bad arrangement for a 
 national collection, for which the greatest facilities 
 should be given. Having arrived too early, we waited 
 a long while seated on the steps of a desolate-looking 
 doorway, and gazing at several curious slabs in 
 bas-relief, ranged along the wall of the garden; they 
 represent warriors in chain armour, but there is 
 neither name, number, nor any information attached 
 to them. 
 
 We had leisure also to remark the very loose 
 manner in which the building had been put together; 
 it was opened not long since, and already the stone 
 balustrade of the ascent shows signs of approaching 
 dislocation. Many of the large buildings in Bukurest 
 
172 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 have all the appearance of hurried superficial work— 
 making a splendid show without solidity. 
 
 When the door was at length opened, the attend¬ 
 ance, or rather the non-attendance, was equally 
 faulty. Meeting with no one to point out the way 
 to a stranger, we wander about, up and down the 
 bare stone stairs, get amongst the classes, are elabo¬ 
 rately conducted by a sympathetic but mistaken old 
 lady, quite in the wrong direction ; descend in despair, 
 and finally stumble upon a room full of minerals. 
 This is a beginning. We admire some splendid speci¬ 
 mens of agate, and other equally interesting but not 
 unknown natural productions ; we group round the 
 stuffed birds and beasts, with a vivid impression of 
 having seen the same before in many another city; 
 we pass on to the Egyptian mummies and other old 
 world remains, until the two or three last rooms 
 repay us in some degree. In one we see, amongst 
 others of the same kind, a magnificent jewelled collar 
 and crown, a relic of barbarian splendour ; in another, 
 church ornaments and vestments are exhibited, with 
 a most interesting series of water-colour drawings of 
 ancient sites and half-ruined buildings of historical 
 interest. Some of these—such as Curtea d’Argesch— 
 have been elaborately restored, and it is satisfactory 
 
THE ‘TRESOR.’ 
 
 173 
 
 to be able still to see the old buildings of the monas¬ 
 tery as they appeared before they were cleared out 
 of the way by the ‘ restoring ’ process. 
 
 In the last room of the suite we find the celebrated 
 ‘Tresor,’ or rather the place where it is kept in a 
 vault to be exhibited on certain days to the public. 
 Above the vault is raised a sort of catafalque, with 
 coloured representations of it on three sides; the 
 fourth face gives a view of Buzeu, where this rich 
 discovery was made by a peasant while digging his 
 field. It proved to be a large disc or salver of gold, 
 magnificently embossed; upon this were placed 
 smaller platters, cups, and vases all richly embossed 
 and jewelled; the people called it the ‘Hen and 
 Chickens.’ It was taken to Bukurest, where it was 
 pronounced to be a unique specimen of Gothic work ; 
 it was afterwards sent to one of the great Exhibitions 
 (Paris or London) ; some thousands of pounds were, 
 they say, deposited with the fortunate proprietor as 
 caution money; the poor peasant, the discoverer from 
 whom it had been purchased, received only some 
 trifling remuneration. 
 
 We did not see the ‘Tresor’ itself, but the repre¬ 
 sentations on the catafalque—most artistically exe¬ 
 cuted—give a good idea of the work, and I was 
 
174 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 further fortunate enough to see facsimiles of some 
 of the vases ornamenting an elegant and tastefully- 
 decorated 4 salon ’ in the town house of M. Dimitri 
 Stourdza, to whom I am indebted for much valuable 
 information regarding our further wanderings. I was 
 there told that these curious remains of antiquity, 
 attributed at first to the Goths, are now thought to 
 show traces of Greek workmanship. A book on this 
 subject is about to be published; it will doubtless 
 prove highly interesting to archaeologists. 
 
 Before leaving Bukurest we drove to Vacareshti, 
 an extensive mass of buildings slightly raised on a 
 natural elevation above the plain ; it was formerly 
 one of the four fortress monasteries that defended 
 the city, and was once an ecclesiastical seminary, 
 possessing the finest library in the country; it serves 
 now as a general penitentiary. A mineral spring 
 was discovered at Vacareshti in 1871. 
 
 CERNICA. 
 
 A pleasant drive may be taken to the important 
 monastery of Cernica, in the neighbourhoood of 
 Bukurest. We started on a bright morning in June— 
 a small party of four—in the roomy and well-hung 
 carriage of the Hotel Brofft. The road took us out 
 
A DELIGHTFUL DRIVE. 
 
 175 
 
 of the city by the wide open space—the Mogosha'i l ~ 
 where the great annual fair will be held some weeks 
 later. At present hay-carts with their oxen, and the 
 drivers in the picturesque dress of the Wallachian 
 peasant, formed the foreground of the picture. Such 
 beautiful, creamy, wide-horned, soft-eyed oxen !—some 
 standing, others lying dowm beside the fragrant 
 mountains of hay; it was a charming scene. 
 
 Then on again, past the pretty cottages, with their 
 verandahs, their white and blue pilasters, and their 
 deep projecting eaves. It was not long since Whit¬ 
 suntide, and the rustic dwellings still preserved the 
 freshness of their ‘redding up’ for the great festival. 
 The drive was delightful, especially enjoyable from 
 the absence of dust; some rain had fallen on the 
 previous day, and the freedom from the smothering 
 clouds that attend all summer locomotion in these 
 vast Wallachian plains, was indeed a blessing for 
 which to be grateful. 
 
 Gradually the trees on either side of the road 
 become more scarce; on our left we could see a 
 hospital for the insane, and not long afterwards a 
 
 1 The approach to this open ground—once the principal street 
 of Bukurest—was called the ‘ Bridge of Mogochai,’ on account of 
 the wooden planks laid on the roadway to serve as pavement, giving 
 it the appearance of a bridge. 
 
176 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 very large building or group of buildings—St. Panta- 
 lei'mon—half a hospital, and half an asylum for 
 incurables. 
 
 On again for another half mile or so, and we turn 
 sharply to the right through a rough barrier, and find 
 ourselves in the enclosure of the monastery of Cernica. 
 We are descending into a beautifully wooded valley; 
 the road winds downwards, shaded by tall trees, 
 with here and there, through an opening in the leafy 
 screen, glimpses of water below ; we reach a large 
 cluster of buildings surrounding a church, near the 
 foot of the hill, and pause to make inquiries. We 
 must continue the descent, cross some reedy marshes 
 on a long wooden bridge, and mount a-gentle slope 
 on the opposite bank, to reach the other portion of 
 the monastery, including a large church and two 
 cemeteries. Cernica is the burial-place of the arch¬ 
 bishops. 
 
 The carriage draws up on a grassy patch of land 
 near the entrance, but we hesitate in which direction 
 to turn. Contrary to the usual custom, no one has 
 yet come out to welcome our party, but at length 
 a monk appears on the outer gallery, and after a 
 short survey steps forward and leads the way into 
 the Guest-chamber. 
 
THE GUEST-CHAMBER. 
 
 177 
 
 It is a close, unaired, rather dirty-looking room, 
 with the traces of former repasts in stains on a very 
 doubtful table-cloth. This is rather discouraging, as 
 I had boasted to my friends of the ready and 
 courteous hospitality which had greeted our arrival 
 in Moldavian convents previously visited; but the 
 good folks of Cernica appeared to awake at length to 
 the necessity for more cleanliness, and a better style 
 of reception. The appearance of a well-filled, generous- 
 looking luncheon-basket showed that we had no 
 intention to tax unduly the resources of the im¬ 
 poverished community, so with cheerful alacrity they 
 rise to the occasion. Some one brings in dulces and 
 water ; a servant whips off the dirty cloth and soon 
 reappears with good and almost elegant table 
 plenishing—-a fine striped cloth quite clean, if not 
 new; a wealth of gaily-coloured plates and knives 
 and forks (most highly civilized !); and, best achieve¬ 
 ment of all, they have contrived to unearth, as 
 interpreter, a poor little man, a sort of carpenter 
 hanger-on of the community, who speaks a little 
 German—none of our party being able to master tbe 
 Roumanian tongue. 
 
 Our first visit was to the church, dedicated to 
 St. George ; a very spacious and richly ornamented 
 
178 
 
 TJX TRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 building, standing in front of the monastery. As 
 usual, the interior is painted throughout; the entry, 
 domes, walls—indeed every available space—covered 
 with figures and representations ; the screen is par¬ 
 ticularly handsome, and the edifice is in excellent 
 preservation and repair. 
 
 On a slight rise beyond the church stands the well, 
 
 under its open cupola, and shaded by some fine trees; 
 it is a picturesque object in the foreground, while the 
 belfry tower on the right hand completes a pleasant 
 little picture. 
 
 We pass on to the mortuary chapel—always a 
 depressing visit—though this mortuary appeared 
 more carefully kept than many that we had seen. 
 The skulls and bones had been gathered into boxes— 
 
THE MORTUARY. 
 
 179 
 
 some brightly painted, others of highly varnished 
 wood, or enlivened by gilt ornaments. 
 
 Several of the boxes had the photograph of the 
 person within fixed on the outside, while in many 
 instances the lids were purposely left open, displaying 
 the poor skull and bones in a tumbled mass of muslin 
 and lace. There are several ranges of these coffers 
 around the sides, and in tiers on bars of wood 
 throughout the entire space. 
 
 The mortuary appropriated to the religious com¬ 
 munity more nearly resembles that at Niamtz; a 
 range of skulls with the names written on the fore¬ 
 heads, and the bones gathered beneath in niches. 
 The last deceased archbishop is supposed to remain 
 seated in his vault until his successor is ready to take 
 his place there. 
 
 One hundred and twenty monks still remain at 
 Cernica, which was formerly a monastery of consider¬ 
 able importance. 
 
 We cross once more the long wooden bridge over 
 the reedy marsh in order to visit the other group of 
 buildings with the church of St. Nicholas. It is 
 altogether a picturesque bit of green landscape ; an 
 oasis in the monotony of the dreary plains that 
 surround Bukurest. In this verdant hollow you 
 
 N 2 
 
180 TJNTKODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 might fancy yourself very far away from the capital, 
 with its dusty glaring roads and seething heat. The 
 marsh would seem to be a drawback, but the in¬ 
 habitants maintain that they do not suffer, as might 
 be expected, from attacks of fever ; the two groups 
 of buildings standing on their opposite hills are above 
 (so they say) the noxious emanations from its turbid 
 waters. They are fond indeed of their marsh, and 
 feel deeply aggrieved that they are no longer allowed 
 
 to take the excellent fish that inhabit it. A few 
 miserable nets hung out at the end of little jetties 
 may catch an occasional waif and stray, but the full 
 right of fishing the waters within their enclosure 
 (with very many other rights) have been withdrawn 
 from the religious communities by the too stringent 
 and drastic reforms inaugurated by Prince Couza 
 in 1864. 
 
 The church of St. Nicholas is less handsome than 
 
GHASTLY PICTURES. 
 
 181 
 
 its companion edifice on the cemetery hill. The entry 
 displays the usual large wall-paintings on either side 
 of the doorway ; on the right hand, the blessed spirits ; 
 on the left, evil angels drowning despairing souls in 
 the fiery stream shot forth by a monstrous dragon. 
 This hideous rendering of the native conception of 
 the future state, more or less elaborated, is so 
 common throughout Roumania, that there is scarcely 
 a church, excepting those of the most recent date, 
 without these ghastly pictures, sometimes in the 
 narthex, sometimes — as at Rishka — covering the 
 exterior of the rounded apse. 
 
 After this inspection it was refreshing to pass 
 through a little wicket-gate into a garden fragrant 
 with mignonette and many sweet-smelling humble 
 flowers, and to reach the small but beautifully neat 
 rooms of the Staritz—the reverend head of the com¬ 
 munity—to whom it is obligatory to pay a visit 
 before leaving. This reverend ‘ Father ’—a younger 
 man than one generally finds in the responsible 
 position of Staritz—received us very politely, and 
 suggesting that our visit would be more agreeably 
 paid in the charming garden than in the tiny room, 
 led the way down a narrow path, descending steeply 
 between vine-trellis and orchard, towards a small lake. 
 
182 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 We sit under the shade of a large walnut-tree, enjoy¬ 
 ing the cool air and the delicious scent of great 
 clusters of lovely roses all around. The kind Staritz 
 offers a choice bouquet of some of the finest specimens, 
 and thus perfumed and refreshed, we drive back in 
 the pleasant twilight to encounter once more the 
 stifling heat and deafening noise of the great 
 thoroughfare of Bukurest. 
 
 A visit to the monastery of Passere, a large com¬ 
 munity of ladies, a few miles beyond Cernica, had 
 been on our programme for the day’s excursion, but 
 it had to be reached by a cross road, and so was 
 given up, as time was wanting to make the visit pro¬ 
 perly ; we heard afterwards that some brigands were 
 supposed to be lingering about that neighbourhood. 
 
CH APTER XL 
 
 CUB.TEA d’aRGESCH. 
 
 Wallacliian Cottages—-Pastoral Scenery—Rain and a Refuge—A 
 glittering Costume—The little Inn of Argesch—Ruins—The 
 Church of the Angels-—The Cathedral-Doubtful Embellish¬ 
 ments-—' 1 Common Saints’—Art and Nature—Foundation of 
 the Cathedral—Rebuilt by Negoe Voda—Solemn Dedication 
 ■—Tombs, Tablets, and Inscriptions—The varying Fortunes of 
 the Monument—Its gorgeous Beauty—The Spiral Turrets— 
 The Fountain—Where the Wife of Maestre Manoli was 
 walled in. 
 
 Nothing can be prettier than the Wallacliian 
 cottages in this part of the country. Their dark 
 roofs overhanging and supported on wooden pilasters 
 form a simple verandah, furnished with one or two 
 clay settles near the entrance ; the tiny windows 
 bordered with bright blue, the freshly-whitewashed 
 walls, the flowers and blossoming creepers, the shady 
 limes and beeches, and the soft background of 
 wooded uplands; these cottages are, I think, the 
 prettiest rustic dwellings in, Europe—out of England 
 and Switzerland. 
 
184 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 We are already some way on our road towards 
 Curtea d’Argesch 1 coming from Bukurest. We have 
 passed tlie wearisome, monotonous plain, and the 
 country lias become green, pastoral, and undulating; 
 scattered villages and homesteads nestled in trees 
 dot the hills; here and there a modest villa in its 
 
 
 park-like enclosure, fields of maize and corn in the 
 foreground, the shadowy Carpathians on the horizon. 
 
 At Goleshti and at all the little stations along 
 
 1 The name of this place—as indeed is the case with most 
 Roumanian towns—is written in several different ways ; amongst 
 these I have chosen the rendering most likely to give the pronun¬ 
 ciation in English. 
 
WALLACHIAN PIGS. 
 
 185 
 
 the line, women and girls in the national costume 
 hang over the railings long strings of cherries for 
 sale, and we can verify that the spread of railway 
 lines has not as yet extinguished one of the most 
 graceful national costumes in Europe—the Walla- 
 chian dress in the district of Argesch. 
 
 At Piteshti we quit the train, and after a very 
 satisfactory luncheon at the station ‘restaurant/ an 
 agreement is made for an open carriage with the 
 invariable four horses harnessed abreast. We are 
 a small party of four—three ladies and M. J. 
 Kleinhenn, who has most kindly offered to guide us.. 
 Twenty-six francs is the price at length settled for 
 the carriage to take us to Argesch, wait there, and 
 bring us back to Piteshti on the following day. 
 
 The road is tolerably good, and increases in 
 interest as we advance. There are many lever-wells 
 by the way-side, with portions of tree-trunks for 
 weights ; wattled hedges, numberless geese as white 
 .as snow, and little pigs frisking about with their 
 awkward-looking wooden frames. Do pigs every¬ 
 where eat grass ? The Wallachian pigs seem to be 
 nibbling grass all day long like sheep; they are a 
 lively race, and are not too dirty either, for their 
 life of unchecked freedom has an elevating tendency; 
 
186 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 and when the shades of evening begin to fall on 
 their native field or open heath, without dog or 
 swineherd, by a tacit understanding, they turn 
 homewards by herds—by hundreds—and each runs 
 galloping to his own especial wash and pigsty. 
 
 We cross innumerable streamlets, for Roumania 
 i3 the best watered country in Eastern Europe. But 
 soon the sky becomes threatening; whirlwinds of 
 dust cover us with fine sand, and then the rain 
 pours down; but we have most happily arrived at 
 a half-way house, and the driver whipping his poor 
 team, we dash under the sheltering, projecting roof 
 into the midst of pretty but very dirty children, 
 dogs, little chicks, and a highly bespangled young 
 lady serving out raki in a bakal’s shop. As our 
 
 friend, Mrs. N-, on our return, bought this young 
 
 woman’s holiday costume, I may describe it here. 
 A long, thick linen under-garment embroidered round 
 the bottom; the wide sleeves more richly worked 
 in coloured silk and spangles; the apron one glitter¬ 
 ing mass. The veil, worn only by married women, 
 is a very long band of yellowish silk gauze, worked 
 with sprigs; it is wound about the head in the 
 most graceful manner, and frequently fastened over 
 the ear by a flower. As before mentioned, the 
 
FLORAL PRESENTS. 
 
 187 
 
 richest and most elaborate costumes are worn in 
 this province. 
 
 Before starting, all the small children, instructed 
 by the grandmother, bring little bunches of roses 
 and mignonette, expecting 4 banis,’ which of course 
 
 they obtain, and the storm having passed over, we 
 start once more, the scenery increasing in beauty 
 at every step that draws us nearer to the hills. 
 There is a small but very genuine bit of forest, 
 almost the first seen since our landing at Yarna; 
 
188 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 but alas! a part of it is lying prone, prepared for 
 cutting up and sending forward to the railway- 
 station, there to be ruthlessly given over to the 
 devouring, fiery engine. 
 
 But we are trotting merrily away from railway¬ 
 lines ; the hills continue to rise, the forest to thicken 
 and deepen. The farms and cottages show a more 
 populated country, and so on and on, tired yet 
 deeply satisfied, till a shady, winding road brings 
 us to Argesch, once for a short time the capital of 
 Wallachia, now little more than a large village. AY e 
 have passed on the left hand an old church covered 
 on the outside with paintings, then by a winding, 
 picturesque road reach the modest little hotel, a 
 chalet-like building with a broad balcony, overlooking 
 on one side a garden full of roses. The back windows 
 look down upon a shady orchard, where some men 
 are mowing ; the air is full of the sweet scent of 
 the hay;—a quiet, simple place, quite new as yet, 
 and therefore perfectly clean—a delightful rest after 
 the long and dusty drive. 
 
 But we cannot linger within while there are so 
 many attractions all around. On a slight rise, not 
 far from the hotel, are seen the ruins of an ancient 
 palace or castle, built by Radu Negru, the founder 
 
CHURCH OF THE ANGELS. 
 
 189 
 
 of the principality of Wallachia, who in the thir¬ 
 teenth century removed the capital from Campu-lung 
 to Curtea d’Argesch; he also built here a church 
 (Biserica Domneasca 1 ). 
 
 On a hill in front of this church are some ruins 
 of a chapel built for the wife of Radu Negru, who 
 was a Roman Catholic. Another old church (pre¬ 
 
 viously mentioned) near the entrance of the town 
 is interesting from the row of pictured saints that 
 surround it; and almost hidden away amongst trees, 
 at the end of a narrow lane, we came upon a little 
 
 1 We found the portrait of this Radu-Negru in our subsequent 
 wanderings at Campu-lung; he holds in. his left hand a representa¬ 
 tion of the cathedral of Argesch. 
 
190 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 Byzantine-looking Luilding, with a beautiful portico 
 in the style of the Stavropulos at Bukurest. It 
 looked a good deal cracked and dilapidated, and 
 the ground surrounding it is a tangled wilderness, 
 besprinkled with a few black wooden crosses, leaning 
 about forlorn and dejected; but it is a beautiful 
 subject for a sketch. It is dedicated, they say, to 
 ‘The Angels.’ 
 
 Curtea d’Argesch is certainly as well endowed 
 in ecclesiastical interest as the situation is rich 
 in sweet natural beauty, for the crowning glory, 
 the celebrated cathedral, the boast and pride of 
 Ptoumania, yet remained to be visited. It stands 
 about half a mile beyond the town, and we agree 
 to drive there early on the following morning. 
 Accordingly by six o’clock we are taking coffee on 
 the broad, flower-scented balcony, and soon afterwards 
 roll easily along, over a smooth road, towards the 
 famous church. The first sight is a disappointment, 
 and I have never got over the feeling that that 
 beautiful mass of white and gilding and glitter, 
 standing bare upon the ground as it were, and sur¬ 
 rounded by a heavy white marble balustrade, with 
 no softening in the immediate surroundings, is out 
 of harmony with the exquisite vista of forest-clad 
 
£ COMMON SAINTS.’ 
 
 191 
 
 mountains and more distant snow-touched summits 
 of the Carpathians. The remains even of the 
 monastery have been lately removed. It was formerly 
 embosomed in trees, and surrounded on the outside 
 with paintings; ‘ but,’ said the guide contemptu¬ 
 ously, ‘they were old, common saints.’ So they 
 were cleared away, and the cathedral of Curtea 
 d’Argesch stands alone in its grandeur and in its 
 beauty, which would be undeniable were it placed 
 in some great city centre. The Doamna Balasha of 
 Bukurest, rising with its Oriental richness of detail 
 in the midst of glowing beds of brilliant blossoms, 
 set in a beautiful and perfectly-cultivated garden, is 
 a glory and an adornment to the city ; it satisfies 
 with a feeling of the fitness of things ; but the same 
 monument, transported to the soft pastoral beauty 
 of Argesch, would seem, incongruous and out of 
 place. 
 
 The history of this building, with which the legend 
 of Manoli is connected, is rather confused; 1 some 
 authors attribute the building of the monastery to 
 Radu Negru in the thirteenth, others to Negoe-Bassa- 
 raba in the early part of the sixteenth century. It 
 
 1 There is a tradition that a temple of the Eoman period 
 existed on this spot. 
 
192 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 would seem clear that to both of these princes the 
 cathedral was equally indebted; for Eadu Negru 
 founded the structure when Argesch became his 
 capital, and Negoe Voda rebuilt and greatly embel¬ 
 lished it about two hundred and fifty years later. 
 This may be concluded from the following inscription 
 in Eoumanian on a marble tablet above the principal 
 
 ION N£A &OF VOfV/OJD DOMMA 
 
 To "te P+- G P<f <A ' r *_-* 
 
 < <» tA q <—J •• 
 
 / * 
 
 entrance; it states that “ under the patronage of the 
 Festival of the Assumption this church has been 
 raised from its ruins’ (N.B. not founded or entirely 
 rebuilt) ‘by the just and pious Negoe Bassaraba, 
 Voivode. It was dedicated for worship in the year 
 7025’ (1517 a.d.) ‘by the Patriarch Theolypt.’ 
 
 On this occasion the Patriarch was assisted by 
 five archbishops and by nearly a thousand priests, 
 but the erection of the monument had terribly over- 
 
CATHEDRAL OF ARGESCH. 
 
 193 
 
 taxed the revenues of the State, and oral tradition 
 says, ‘that the wife of Negoe, Despina Militza, 
 daughter of Lazar Brancovici, Despot of Servia, 
 gave her jewels and ornaments to help towards the 
 completion of the monastery and church.’ It is 
 stated that the marbles and mosaics were brought 
 from Constantinople, by way of the Danube, to 
 Widdin, and that architects and master-masons were 
 also called from thence. 
 
 Negoe Voda was buried here in 1521 beside three 
 of his six children. Roxanda, one of the above- 
 named daughters, married Radu Voda de la Afumati, 
 one of his Generals, who was elected by the Boyards 
 to succeed him. He is supposed to have finished 
 Curtea d’Argesch after the death of Negoe Voda. 
 Radu was murdered at the altar of a church in 
 Rimnik Valcei, and his body, brought to this place, 
 was interred in the cathedral in 1529. His monu¬ 
 ment is seen in the narthex on the left hand, with 
 his portrait and that of his wife Roxanda. 
 
 Neither Doamna Despina nor her daughter Rox¬ 
 anda were interred in the cathedral of Argesch ; it 
 is probable that—Radu de la Afumati being dead— 
 their remains were carried to Servia. Despina died 
 about the year 1538. 
 
194 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 According to a tradition of the monks of Argescli, 
 Stanca (or Stana), another daughter of Negoe, who 
 had married Stephen Yoda of Moldavia, became a 
 nun under the name of Sophronia, and was also 
 buried at Curtea d’Argesch. 
 
 The monastery suffered from many causes—in¬ 
 vasions, civil wars, and internal troubles. It fell 
 into a ruinous condition until a certain 1 etru ^ oda 
 —at the end of the 16tli century—restored it, 
 putting his portrait in the narthex with that of 
 his son Marco. After this, tor some years, the 
 building passed into the hands of foreign monks. 
 Michael the Brave rescued it, but it was afterwards 
 
 acmin abandoned and left exposed to the wind and 
 © 
 
 rain. 
 
 In 1640, Mathew Basaraba once more liberated 
 the monastery of Argescli from the possession of 
 strangers, and a few years later Curtea d’Argesch 
 was repaired by Serban Cantacuzene. 
 
 The cathedral of Argescli has now quite lately 
 been restored by a French architect, Lecomte 
 du Nouy. It was reconsecrated and reopened 
 with much ceremony in October 1886 m the 
 presence of King Charles and Queen Elizabeth of 
 
 Koumania. 
 
ARCHITECTURAL BEAUTIES. 
 
 195 
 
 The style of the monument is a mixture of the 
 Arabic and the Byzantine ; it is in the form of the 
 Greek cross; the workmanship is exquisite, and 
 every detail is carried to the utmost degree of per¬ 
 fection. The slate roof is studded with golden stars, 
 as are the domes of the small cupolas. Triple crosses 
 in iron, gilt, with globes and chains also gilt, sur¬ 
 mount the domes. Two larger towers, rising out 
 of gilt and richly foliated balustrades, have similar 
 glittering domes and crosses. At the base of the 
 roof bands of gold and azure surmount a row of 
 golden rosaces sculptured in arabesque, each one 
 wrought in a different design. 
 
 A strange and decidedly unpleasing effect is pro¬ 
 duced by the peculiar fancy worked out in the two 
 foremost and smaller towers; they are surrounded 
 by richly-worked spiral bands, the narrow slit win¬ 
 dows following also the same spiral direction. This, 
 from some points of view, deceives the eye with the 
 impression that they must be leaning inwards, and 
 quite out of the perpendicular. Another arrange¬ 
 ment that detracts from the beauty of the monument 
 is the maimer in which the towers and cupolas 
 stand close together, seeming to need space for their 
 
 o 2 
 
196 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 proper development, and ‘looking/ says F—, ‘as if 
 they were packed ready to be put altogether into 
 a square box.’ Samuelson says—‘ The whole building 
 resembles a beautiful large mausoleum ... it appears 
 to be built of white marble, but is whitish gray 
 limestone . . . the internal face is brick, plastered for 
 the reception of painting/ 
 
 In front of the cathedral, a beautiful little building, 
 consisting of a gilded cupola supported on four 
 columns of gray marble, is an ancient baptistry; 
 it resembles a Moorish fountain. The cupola supports 
 a triple gilt cross, with globes and chains similar 
 to those on the church. This fountain is now only 
 used for the Blessing of the Waters and midnight 
 mass on Easter Eve. 
 
 The interior of the cathedral is very richly orna¬ 
 mented, painted throughout in fresco. On the walls 
 of the narthex the portraits of the old Voivodes are 
 executed in the Byzantine style, and here also are 
 the tombs of Negoe Voivode and of his family, on 
 the rio-ht hand near the door in a recess of the 
 
 O 
 
 Avail, covered with the portraits of the Prince of 
 Servia, Lazar, and of his wife, who were relatives 
 by marriage of the Voivode. Tradition places the 
 
CHURCH OF ST. DIMITRI. 
 
 197 
 
 body of the wife of Maestre Manoli built into the 
 structure to avert £ an evil destiny .’ 1 
 
 Before leaving Argesch we were able to take a 
 sketch of the church of St. Dimitri from the wooden 
 balcony of the rustic £ mairie,’ the Mayor himself 
 very politely directing chairs to be brought out for 
 our benefit. Our slight work afforded matter of 
 interest to a Roumanian policeman, dressed in linen 
 
 braided with scarlet, and to a gipsy, both lounging 
 listlessly on the wooden railings. 
 
 The return to Piteshti was varied by occasional 
 heavy showers, and by anxieties touching the transit 
 over a certain decayed wooden bridge spanning a 
 tiny stream. ’ This bridge was very nearly broken 
 through on our first passage, how should we find 
 
 1 Ubieini has made this Manoli the architect of the building 
 raised by Eadu Eegru; but the legend is now more commonly 
 ascribed to the reconstruction under Negoe Yoda. 
 
198 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 it on our return ? A jerk ! a holding of the breath ! 
 a slight struggle of the horses, and we are over in 
 safety, but meeting soon afterwards the lumbering 
 post-coach jogging thoughtlessly on towards the 
 4 mauvais pas,’ we felt thankful to have done with 
 that bit of road. Doubtless it was soon afterwards 
 put into complete repair fit for the passage of 
 royalty. 
 
 We entered the train again at Piteshti, and soon 
 had occasion to consider that the purchase of straw¬ 
 berries and other crushable fruit, which goes on in 
 a lively manner at all the stations, is doubtless 
 satisfactory, but that it may be carried too far; for 
 instance, to heap the nicely covered cushions of the 
 carriage with extremely juicy berries in slight wicker 
 baskets is decidedly unfair to the railway company, to 
 .say nothing of the passengers. ‘ Das ist mein platz ! ’ 
 exclaimed in dismay a good-natured German, who 
 had just selected a seat and gone off to see to his 
 luggage. 4 Mein platz ’ exhibited on his return three 
 large baskets of very ripe raspberries, and about an 
 equal number on the floor, requiring the most delicate 
 and careful consideration from the occupants of the 
 neighbouring seats, lest a weary foot should stretch 
 itself into the midst of a bruised and bleeding 
 
TRAVELLING OUT OF THE SEASON, 
 
 199 
 
 mound. Cherries are more easily arranged ; they 
 are bound about a slight stick, and look like a 
 knobby club about two feet long; friends sitting 
 opposite each other may each grasp an end and c eat 
 fair ’ till they meet in the centre. 
 
 On arriving at Bukurest we found the inconveni¬ 
 ence of travelling 4 out of the season ’; there was no 
 hotel omnibus in waiting. We are packed with our 
 luggage into a tiny chaise, and pursue a frenzied 
 headlong course (after the Manner of. the country) 
 towards the Hotel Brofffc, fortunately reaching that 
 temporary haven in safety. 
 
 . M W 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 SINAIA-KRONSTADT (iN TRANSYLVANIA). 
 
 Sinaia—The Valley of the Prahova—Sina'ia—View from the Balcony 
 —The Monastery—Its Origin—Chateau de Pelesch—Progress 
 in Roumania—On the Road to Kronstadt—Mountains and 
 Gorges—Summits of the Butchesch—Legend of La Omu— 
 Legend of Marco the Shepherd—The Gorge of the Prahova— 
 Predial—The Tomos Pass. 
 
 Kronstadt—Origin of the Name—The Altstadt—The three Privi¬ 
 leged Nationalities—In the City—Choice of a Market Place— 
 Tribulations of Kronstadt — The Black Church — Pitiable 
 Neglect—The Fortifications—On the Ivapellenberg— A Beau¬ 
 tiful Avenue—Towers and Bastions—A Mediaeval Relic—- 
 Flying Buttresses—The White Tower—The Black Tower— 
 The Lilac Lane—A Storm—The Schlossberg—Dining under 
 Difficulties—Neustadt—Rosenau—Up the Hill-side—An old 
 ‘ Vrou ’—Around the Ruins—The Castle Well—The Pigs of 
 Rosenau. 
 
 AVe started for Sinaia by an afternoon train, going 
 northwards. Beyond Campina the scenery becomes 
 hilly, then mountainous, and the line of railway, 
 following the course of the river—the Prahova—leads 
 along a track, increasing in picturesque beauty as we 
 
MOUNTAIN SCENERY. 
 
 201 
 
 approach the Carpathians. Mountain slopes clothed 
 with virgin forest rise on the left hand; on the 
 opposite side the sparkling river reflects rows of 
 open arches raised on the top of a very low wall, 
 showing that the stream, now so peaceful, becomes 
 in winter a raging torrent, that would utterly tear 
 down any solid masonry placed as a defence to the 
 carriage road. 
 
 The forests increase in grandeur and beauty ; there 
 are patches of bright red earth amongst the greenery ; 
 then saw-mills, rustic, Alpine-looking cottages with 
 their heavy roofs, stone arches spanning the innumer¬ 
 able windings of the Prahova; more Alpine scenery, 
 some gay chalets; another turn, and we steam into 
 the little station of Sina'ia. 
 
202 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 A tolerable carriage takes us, winding up a steep 
 ascent, to the Hotel Kirchener, standing on the 
 slope of the mountain half-way on the road to the 
 Palace of Pelesch, the beautiful summer retreat of 
 the King and Queen of Roumania. This hotel 
 possesses as its principal attraction a very long, 
 broad, and covered balcony, commanding lovely 
 views of the valley below, of wooded mountain 
 slopes and vapoury distances. Sinaia is not a 
 village, but consists of clusters and groups of Swiss- 
 looking villas, brown-roofed, red-roofed, balconied, 
 turreted, with here and there—cutting harshly on 
 the sylvan beauty of the scene—a stiff stone mansion 
 in the style of Bukurest, and in the worst possible 
 taste in this locality. There are several hotels, as 
 Sinaia is a favourite and very accessible resort for 
 families anxious to escape the oppressive heat of the 
 city. There is also a fine bathing establishment, 
 with extensive grounds laid out for the public 
 benefit; most of the land and property about here 
 belongs to the c Ephorie ’ of the hospitals, a ‘ Com¬ 
 mittee of Management,’ headed by the Princes Ghika 
 and Cantacuzene, who, with the late Dr. Davila, 
 carried out a plan for forming a hydropathic estab¬ 
 lishment somewhat similar to many of the mineral 
 
SINAIA. 
 
 203 
 
 baths in Germany and elsewhere; and in order to 
 attract the public to Sinaia, they opened a casino, 
 a post-office, a restaurant, &c., and added later three 
 spacious hotels in the best situations, the most 
 important of these being the Hotel Caraiman, named 
 after one of the gigantic peaks of the Butchesch. 
 
 Intending to devote only one day to Sinaia— 
 though it would well deserve a much longer visit— 
 we started in good time on. the following morning, 
 under the guidance of the waiter of the hotel, and 
 soon began the ascent towards the monastery and the 
 Royal Palace by a beautiful winding hill-side path¬ 
 way, passing the handsome and picturesque villa of 
 Prince Dimitri Ghika. This was the first country- 
 mansion erected here—an example quickly followed 
 by the principal families of Roumanian nobility. 
 
 The charms of Sinaia as a health resort were 
 first brought into notice in 1868 in the following 
 manner. His Majesty the King (at that time Prince 
 Charles' of Roumania) coming into these parts on his 
 way to or from some Transylvanian mineral baths, was 
 struck by the beauty of the situation, the bracing 
 quality of the air, and the purity of the water. 
 He was so much captivated that he resolved to 
 repeat his visit; and this beginning originated the 
 
204 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 popularity of Sinaia. From that time the Prince 
 came regularly, lodging in the monastery, to which 
 increased accommodation was gradually added. The 
 Queen also came, and the artistic evidences of her 
 presence still remain in the series of wall-painted 
 portraits decorating one of the rooms, and in many 
 other proofs of this talented lady’s refining and 
 elevating influence. 
 
 After a few summers spent in this simple vil- 
 lagiatura, the foundations were laid for the building 
 of the present Royal Palace in 1874. The works 
 were unavoidably interrupted by political events; 
 resumed in 1880, finished and inaugurated in 1883; 
 when the Royal Court fixed its summer habitation 
 here. It is called the ‘ Chateau de Pelesch.’ 
 
 But we must first visit the monastery, led by a 
 ‘father’ who volunteers to act as guide. We are 
 first taken into the monastic precincts and pass into 
 the church, an interesting building painted as usual 
 throughout. In the first part we are shown the 
 portraits of the founder, Cantacuzene, his wife, and 
 all his children. The pillars of the entry are rather 
 roughly but richly carved in stone. 
 
 Another smaller and more ancient edifice, a chapel, 
 is next examined ; there is nothing remarkable to 
 
A VISIT TO THE MONASTERY. 
 
 205 
 
 record, and we pass on to the third, which may be 
 called the parish church, standing without the en¬ 
 closure. The school occupies one side of the court, 
 the supports of the verandah prettily twined with 
 creepers, and in front a long-covered gallery in 
 elegant woodwork extends the whole width of the 
 building, and commands exquisite views of the sur¬ 
 rounding mountains. This gallery was added when 
 the court (as has been previously said) passed the 
 hot season in the monastery. 
 
 Our guide, the Padre Staritz (on his visiting card 
 named Jeromonah Nifon), politely showed us his small 
 suite of rooms, pointing out to our especial notice a 
 very handsome antique clock, the gift of the Queen. 
 He did not think us worthy of the display of the 
 fine illuminated missal of which we have heard, or 
 of the rooms decorated by the Queen herself; but our 
 time being very limited, the omissions were allowed to 
 pass without remark, and we hurried forward to obtain 
 as good a view as possible of the Chateau de Pelesch. 
 
 A small guide book to Sinaia, published by the 
 Superior, gives the following account of the origin 
 and foundation of the monastery— 
 
 ‘ On the northern side of the valley stands the 
 monastery, built on a spur of Mount Furnica, which 
 
206 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 rises above it for about 800 feet. It was founded in 
 the fifteenth century by Michael Cantacuzene, and 
 was named after the celebrated monastery of Mount 
 Sinai in Arabia. It was apparently at that time 
 fortified.; the present monastery, with the spacious 
 church, were rebuilt in 1846. At the beginning of 
 this century the monks numbered, seventy or eighty ; 
 there are now about twenty-five only, including those 
 devoted to the services of the churches. All these 
 are maintained by the Ephorie of the Hospitals under 
 one Superior.’ 
 
 From the further gate of the monastery the view 
 opens out, and you see the high summits of Pietra- 
 Arsa (the burnt stone) towering above the glittering 
 pinnacles of the palace. The foreground is a rich 
 mass of park-like forest, through which a winding and 
 delightfully shady road leads to a rustic bridge over 
 the small but rapid stream, the Pelesch ; and on a 
 near rising ground the chateau shows a charming and 
 most picturesque grouping of dark woodwork and pale 
 gray masonry, tall roofs and sparkling pinnacles re¬ 
 lieved against pale mountain crags and vast forests 
 of pine and larch. The flag of Roumania, fluttering 
 on the highest pointed turret, announces the presence 
 of the royal owners. 
 
A ROYAL RETREAT. 
 
 207 
 
 The palace contains seventy rooms, all lighted by 
 electric light, and the interior is described as arranged 
 and furnished with exquisite taste, and enriched by 
 many fine works of modern artists. The name of 
 Pelesch is familiar to many acquainted with the 
 literary work of the royal authoress, who publishes 
 under the name of Carmen Sylva ; but there are few 
 out of Roumania who can realize the situation and 
 attractions of this lovely ‘ sylvan ’ retreat. 
 
 Following the road that leads past the chateau, and 
 winds still deeper into the exquisite forest scenery, 
 you reach the ‘Forester’s Hut,’ a picturesque chalet 
 in a woodland clearing, where they tell us that an 
 upper room is especially reserved for the use of the 
 Queen, where she may pursue—in her rare intervals 
 of leisure amongst serious cares and responsibilities, 
 which she by no means endeavours to neglect or to 
 elude—the occupations, artistic and literary, which 
 form such a source of happiness in her life. 
 
 Roumania owes much to King Charles and Queen 
 Elizabeth ; even to a superficial observer the country 
 has in many w T ays improved almost incredibly during 
 the last ten or twelve years. To quote a recent news¬ 
 paper article— £ Roads and railways are multiplying in 
 Roumania as rapidly as in any country in the world. 
 
208 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 Very shortly the great railway bridge spanning the 
 Danube between Fetesti and Cernawoda will be be¬ 
 gun ; the docks, quays, and bonded warehouses at 
 Galatz and Bra'ila are progressing, as also the harbour 
 works at Giurgevo, with other facilities for commerce 
 both at Bukurest and Jassy.’ 
 
 The Queen also devotes very much of her time and 
 care to the improvement and education of the youth¬ 
 ful feminine population. She gathers the young 
 ladies of the higher society around her in this beau¬ 
 tiful sylvan retreat of Pelesch, and this, with the 
 exceeding charm of manner, which all acknowledge 
 who have experienced it, cannot fail to influence in 
 a high degree the rising generation, and to lead 
 gradually to a higher standard of moral principle, and 
 a better view of life with its duties and responsibilities. 
 
 KRONSTADT. 
 
 We are leaving Sinaia for Kronstadt in Transyl¬ 
 vania. Magnificent mountain scenery unfolds imme¬ 
 diately as the train steams slowly out of the little 
 station, although it is raining heavily ; the giant peaks 
 looming through and above the rolling sea of vapours, 
 pile upon pile in most sublime confusion ; the two 
 
LEGEND OF LA OMIT. 
 
 209 
 
 Jepii—Cara'iman, Omu—which altogether form the 
 crest of the stupendous mass of the Butchesch. The 
 highest summit, rising about 9000 feet above the sea 
 level, is by some called Negoi, by others La Omu ; a 
 legend attaches to the peak under this latter name. 
 
 ‘ On the highest peak of La Omu stand three 
 isolated blocks of rock, composed of sandstone and 
 conglomerate ; the centre block is the tallest, and 
 from a distance has the appearance of a human figure— 
 thence its name Omu (man). According to tradition, 
 it is a punishment for blasphemy, for a shepherd once 
 lost his way, and being unable to find it, be burst 
 into blasphemous cursing, and was changed by God 
 into a stone.’ 
 
 Another legend which refers to the same mountain 
 summit is taken, in substance, from Ozanne’s Three 
 Years in Roumania. It relates how ‘ a humble shep¬ 
 herd ventured to aspire to the hand of his master’s 
 daughter’ (a not uncommon beginning to wonderful 
 tales here, as in other parts of the world); but the 
 marvellous element comes in with the shepherd’s 
 acceptance and fulfilment of the fearful conditions 
 insisted on—he must climb to the summit of the 
 Butchesch, and there pass the winter ! He consents 
 to the fearful ordeal, and at ‘ the close of the autumn 
 
210 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 lie entrusted his flock to liis brethren of Sinaia, and 
 went to the monastery, where he burned a taper to 
 St. Dimitri, and kissed the sacred “icons,” then, takiim 
 a supply of maize flour, three cheeses, and his ploska, 
 of raid, he climbed the Butchesch witli his dog, his 
 faithful companion. 
 
 ‘ It was on the 2Sth of October ; snow already fell 
 heavily, but he presses onwards, and gains the summit 
 of a lofty crag. Here he lived for five awful months ! 
 fearing nothing from vultures, bears, or other wild 
 animals, who, driven from the summits by the intense 
 cold, sought the milder regions below. Fire was almost 
 impossible, there was no shelter, but both the shep¬ 
 herd and the dog survive (!) until, on the morrow of 
 the Festival of the Annunciation, his comrades climb 
 the mountain to search for him or his remains. Every 
 
 nook rang with the joyous sound of the pipe !. 
 
 there is a cry of triumph !—the dog has run to meet 
 them, but Marco does not come. They gain the 
 summit, and see their long-lost friend ; he is alive, 
 breathing but immovable—standing as in a trance, 
 in a state of petrifaction ! “ Marco! ” they shout, 
 
 “Marco!” He remains rigid as a pillar, conscious, 
 but paralyzed; suddenly he strives to meet them— 
 his limbs fail him, and he falls to the base of the crag. 
 
BUTCHESCH. 
 
 211 
 
 His brethren gather round weeping ; he knows them, 
 clasps their hands, and dies. They made his grave 
 where he fell, and erected a cross in his memory, 
 which remains to this day.’ 
 
 Butchesch is called the highest mountain of the 
 
 O 
 
 Seibenburgen Carpathians, although it seems rather 
 to form a limit to Roumanian territory than to be 
 included in the Transylvanian Seibenburgen. It is 
 not a snow mountain, and the summit can be reached 
 on horseback. 
 
 The train is moving very slowly on account of 
 the loose and uncertain nature of the soil on which 
 
UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 212 
 
 the line is laid—so slowly indeed that it is quite 
 possible to sketch the awful crags and chasms as 
 they gradually open out another and yet another 
 vista of gray vapour and massive rock, and dense 
 forests of sombre fir, until — the clouds lifting 
 slightly—a brilliant gleam falls far below on masses 
 of beech and oak and chestnut, with here and there 
 a sunny upland touched with deep blue shadows; 
 a bright green patch of velvet, flower-bespangled 
 pasture ; a torrent rushing through the deep ravine; 
 a solitary homestead in a lonely valley. We are 
 descending the beautiful gorge of the Prahova lead¬ 
 ing to the Hungarian frontier. The line is on a very 
 steep incline, and we creep timidly along, with in¬ 
 numerable windings, crossing many bridges, till we 
 reach the frontier station at Predeal, having passed, 
 shortly before, the magnificent gorge of the Hirscli- 
 thal, in which rises a mineral spring, whose waters 
 are carried by pipes to Sinaia for the use of the 
 mineral baths. There is a monastery also near the 
 small town of Predeal. 
 
 The train remains for about an hour at the station, 
 where a most wearisome examination of luggage 
 and registration' of passports is inflicted in some 
 dirty, shabby rooms, crowded to suffocation with 
 
213 
 
 THE TOMOS PASS. 
 
 third-class passengers. Happily for us, a very bright 
 and efficient porter took us and our belongings under 
 his charge, and we got on pretty well then; in 
 Austrian territory, and with fresh tickets marked 
 Brasso (not sounding at all like Kronstadt!), we 
 steam along once more, and are soon again sur¬ 
 rounded by a bewilderment of beauty; for now we 
 are in the celebrated Tomos Pass, through which the 
 
 foaming stream, the Tomos, flows ; it is, if possible, 
 more grandly beautiful than even the Prahova Thai— 
 on the left hand a tangle of leafy dell, wild gorge, 
 and tumbling waters; on the right, bold mountains, 
 forest-clad, or showing stern granite crag and fearful 
 precipice. One noble mountain crest is the Petra 
 Mare (the great stone) ; on another spur, which 
 reaches to the road, was built in 1881 the Honved 
 
214 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 monument, to commemorate tlie Hungarian warriors 
 who died defending the narrow pass against the 
 Russians in 1849. The monument is a simple stone, 
 and the front towards the road bears the inscrip¬ 
 tion— ‘ To the members of the Hungarian Engineer 
 
 O O 
 
 and Architect Club, who shed their blood in defence 
 of the Fatherland.’ 
 
 After the little station of Tombs, we gradually 
 emerge from this exquisite forest scenery on to a 
 sunny plain, rich only in its exquisite colouring; 
 streaks of vivid yellow carpet the ground—dashes 
 of a rosy glow, bright green and delicate gray melt 
 into the vapoury blue of distant mountains. 
 
THE BURZENLAND. 
 
 215 
 
 We are in the wide-spreading plain marked in the 
 maps as Burzenland, Transylvania being officially 
 known as Sei'benburgen, or the Seven Burgs, being 
 inhabited principally by German and Saxon colonists. 
 The line makes a great curve, and we roll along, 
 catching glimpses of the town on the left hand, until 
 we find ourselves a few minutes later alighting at 
 the station of Kronstadt, and seated in the hotel 
 
 omnibus. The road into the suburb in which the 
 three principal hotels are situated is terribly dusty, 
 and not at all fascinating after the lovely scenery 
 through which we have just passed, but it is not 
 long. We reach the Octroi barrier, and the driver 
 stops; he observes interrogatively to the Octroi 
 officials, ‘ Kha ? Kha ? ’—officials respond, ‘ Kha ! 
 Kha! ’ look at us, then add, with conviction, ‘ Khe ! 
 
216 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 Khe ! ’ and we drive peacefully on. What was the 
 language used and what the sentiment conveyed in 
 this interchange of ideas must remain for ever a 
 profound mystery; but we did not feel our peace of 
 mind in any way disturbed by the official judgment, 
 and rolling comfortably onwards, reached the Hotel 
 Bukurest, in the suburb of Kronstadt known as Alt 
 Stadt—the old town. 
 
 KRONSTADT. 
 
 Our large, airy, and cheerful room in the Hotel 
 Bukurest has a charming view of the Schlossberg in 
 front, and on the right hand—beyond the grassy open 
 space and the fine boulevards—we see some beauti¬ 
 fully wooded hills, with a suburb of Kronstadt, look¬ 
 ing like a village embowered in trees, running up a 
 ravine between two summits. 
 
 A rival hostelry, called the ‘ Grtinen Baum/ stands 
 on the opposite side of the way, and we wonder 
 whether this name is in patriotic commemoration of 
 the origin of the name of their citv, for the legend 
 runs, that on the spot where now stands the town- 
 hall, a golden crown was found in 1204 in the stump 
 of a tree—left there, it was supposed, by King 
 
KRONSTADT. 
 
 217 
 
 Soloman of Hungary about a hundred and thirty 
 years previously, in his flight after his defeat by the 
 Bulgarians; therefore they named the new city Kron 
 Stadt, and took for the civic- arms a crown and a tree 
 stump with its roots. The legend adds, that this 
 golden crown was for a long time preserved in the 
 town-hall. 
 
 Our hotel is situated at the beginning of the 
 Altstadt, the oldest quarter of the city, and outside 
 
 the walled enclosure that now surrounds the Inner 
 Town, which is the centre of business and traffic. 
 The street is exceedingly long, and quite uninterest¬ 
 ing; it was raised by the Teutonic knights in 1222, 
 but if it ever boasted of picturesque effect, all such 
 charm has been swept away by the frequent re¬ 
 currence of destructive assaults and sieges. This 
 northern suburb of Kronstadt spreads along the 
 borders of the wide plain, the Burzenland, which 
 was also in the possession of the Teutonic Order of 
 
*2 IS 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN 1LOUMANIA. 
 
 knights ; it was made over to them by Andreas II., 
 King of Hungary, but the gift was soon recalled, 
 and the knights expelled, on the discovery of 
 their attempt to hand over the country to Pope 
 Honorius III. 
 
 The name of Transylvania originated in the 
 Middle A ges, when the Magyars calling the eastern 
 portion of their territory Silvana Regio, the country 
 beyond that boundary came to be named Ultra 
 Silvana, or, Trans Sylvana; it was also at that time 
 known as Erdely, and as Ardclu by the Roumanians. 
 
 The greater number of the inhabitants are 
 Roumanians, but the three privileged nationalities, 
 Hun garians, Saxons, and Szeklers, possess rights not 
 shared by the larger portion of the population. The 
 Hungarians, by right of conquest at the end of the 
 eleventh century ; the German colonists—chiefly Flem¬ 
 ings and from the Rhineland, collectively known as 
 Saxons—called in half a century later to re-people 
 and to protect the district; and the Szeklers, who 
 occupy the eastern borders—they are of Magyar 
 origin, brought here after the conquest, to act as 
 Szeklers or Guardians of the frontier. They regard 
 themselves as descendants of the White Huns. The 
 arms of the Principality, which was once a powerful 
 
THE ALTSTADT. 
 
 219 
 
 kingdom, display for the Hungarians an eagle, for 
 the Saxons seven towers, and for the Szeklers a Sun 
 and a Crescent. 
 
 We wandered along the Altstadt, wondering when 
 the range of insignificant houses would break into 
 some more attractive outline. The street was dusty, 
 and the wells, which were being vigorously worked 
 by sturdy youths and maidens, afforded the only 
 variety, till, reaching a tiny rivulet, we turned along 
 its course, then winding upwards by a little field- 
 path, were quickly gladdened by a fine view of the 
 opposite hill, with its villas and cottages peeping 
 through clustering foliage; beyond this, the blue 
 mountain peaks above the Torzburg Pass. The little 
 pathway led us by a steep ascent to a Lutheran 
 church, with its quiet creeper-draped parsonage 
 beside it, and the little cemetery full of blossoming 
 shrubs. We sat awhile to enjoy the freshness of 
 orchard and shady trees, then back along the dusty 
 street, we cross the large open space and enter the 
 Inner Town through an archway of uncompromising 
 ugliness; it looks like a magnified result of childish 
 labours with toy bricks, and is supposed to be on the 
 model of the Brandenbergh Gate at Berlin (!), an 
 utter and innocent delusion. Most of the modern 
 
220 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 buildings in Kronstadt are heavy and plain-looking— 
 out of harmony with the soft setting of wooded 
 uplands in which three parts of the city are 
 embosomed. 
 
 The streets are broad and clean, with the stones 
 of the side pavements set in a pattern. A rapid little 
 stream runs gurgling on each side under removable 
 planking, a necessary precaution in the rainy season 
 to carry off the great mass of water rushing down 
 from the mountains, that would otherwise inundate 
 the town. There are many fountains and wells in 
 every direction, generally worked by strong, flaxen¬ 
 haired girls. 
 
 Kronstadt—the Inner Town—is not extensive, and 
 we had soon reached the market-place with its town- 
 hall. The account of the selection of this site as 
 the market-place for the surrounding country is 
 quaint. The market in long past times used to be 
 held at Zeiden, a small town in the Burzenland ; the 
 matter was the subject of much discussion and heart¬ 
 burning—each town wishing to assert its supremacy 
 by the possession of the market, with all its com¬ 
 mercial advantages. Neither would yield the point, 
 so it was finally agreed to count the number of 
 burghers assembled at either place on a day fixed by 
 
TRIBULATIONS OF KRONSTADT. 
 
 221 
 
 both towns ; Kronstadt gained the victory, but it 
 was a small triumph in the midst of much misfortune. 
 In 1236 the whole of the Burzenland was desolated 
 by a Tartar invasion, and five years later Kronstadt 
 was sacked by Mongolians, but the Tartars had not 
 been able to penetrate beyond the suburbs. 
 
 Towards the end of the 14th century Kronstadt 
 withdrew farther within the ravines of the mountains, 
 and for better protection built strong walls, with deep 
 moats. These precautions were not superfluous. 
 Few towns have suffered more, and the list of its 
 trials during the next three centuries begins with a 
 siege of the city by Turks and Wallachians at about 
 the time that the Reformation was brought here by 
 the ‘Apostle of Kronstadt, Johannes Honterus (born 
 in this city in 1498). This assault was repulsed, as 
 also a later siege under Count Gabriel Bathory ; but 
 in the middle of the sixteenth century the whole of 
 the country was again overrun by Tartar and Turkish 
 hordes. Thirty years later Kronstadt was burned 
 down, with the greater part of the upper suburbs ; after 
 which it was plundered. In 1709 the plague broke 
 out, and during the ten years following, 4509 persons 
 died of it in Kronstadt alone, and in the extent of 
 the Burzenland as many as 18,450 persons perished. 
 
UNTRODDEN” PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 222 
 
 From the market-place to the ‘ Black Church ’ is 
 hut a few steps ; it is a very fine Gothic building, 
 exceedingly lofty, and towering as a landmark from 
 a distance. It now belongs to the Lutherans, wdio 
 are very numerous here. 
 
 The church was empty, so we wander round, re¬ 
 marking, on the left of the principal entrance, some 
 curious monumental figures, coloured, and in relief 
 on tablets let into the wall. There are paintings of 
 saints also, but they are not in any way remarkable. 
 The pulpit is a handsome massive structure, sur¬ 
 mounted by several gilt figures, the central figure on 
 the summit waving a flag. Many old and faded 
 Eastern carpets hang at the back of the choir-stalls, 
 and from some other seats as well as from the gal¬ 
 leries. The choir-stalls are carved, though not notice¬ 
 able for any beauty of design or execution, and the 
 large area of the church is crowded by an immense 
 number of high-backed, dark wooden pews, so much 
 jammed together and so badly placed, that they could 
 scarcely be used. The whole building shows signs of 
 sad carelessness and neglect, with the exception of 
 the rounded apse, supported on very lofty white 
 columns, which seemed to have been newly repaired 
 and white-washed. The church, with its spacious 
 
THE £ BLACK CHUKCH.’ 
 
 223 
 
 o-alleries, mig-ht easily have held several hundred 
 people, but the congregation, when it had slowly 
 collected (it was Sunday afternoon), did not number 
 more than eight or ten ! The tones of the organ 
 pealing through the vast, desolate building were 
 very fine, and the voices of the choir, in a simple but 
 grand and majestic harmony, exceedingly impressive. 
 The pity that so few should be present to join in 
 prayer and praise! 
 
 The Gothic porch is handsome, and the exterior of 
 the rounded apse is ornamented by figures of the 
 Apostles carved in stone ; they were gilded until the 
 great fire, which nearly destroyed and permanently 
 blackened the church—gave it its present name. The 
 lofty dark red roof and belfry above the sombre 
 walls make this £ Black Church ’ a remarkable monu¬ 
 ment, though scarcely a £ thing of beauty.’ 
 
 The fortified and loop-holed wall surrounding the 
 Inner Town still exists in an almost unbroken line, 
 here and there strengthened by towers of various 
 forms, and encircled by a moat and a most beautiful 
 boulevard, broad and well kept, an avenue—in some 
 parts a double avenue—of magnificent trees that 
 cast a deep cool shade even at the hottest hour of 
 the day. 
 
224 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN 110UMANIA. 
 
 Guided by a kind friend to whom we had received 
 an introduction, we were led upwards through this 
 avenue by a winding pathway between fields and 
 orchards perfumed by stacks of fresh hay, towards 
 an ugly, massive stone building on the lower slope of 
 the Kapellenberg ; this building, a £ restauration ’ and 
 a ‘ cafe,’ looks well from below. Set in its beautiful 
 framing of mountain and. green forest, it lias the air 
 of a seigneurial chateau, but on a nearer view it is 
 decidedly displeasing ; instead of a light and graceful, 
 chalet-like structure, suited to its use as a summer 
 resort, one feels crushed by the overhanging weight 
 of mighty stone angles, statues, bare-looking outer 
 stairways, and the general want of taste. 
 
 We wait a long time for the coffee—so Ion" that, 
 if it were not actually grown to order, it must 
 have been leisurely weighed out, roasted, ground, 
 boiled, and very deliberately served ; perhaps they 
 had to chase the milk-giving cow round the premises 
 before she would yield the demanded supply. At any 
 rate, we had full time, while sitting under perfumed 
 lime-trees, to admire the beautiful view of Kronstadt 
 from this terraced elevation—the mountain slopes 
 with the village-like suburbs, climbing and clustering 
 among the trees ; the further range of the Eastern 
 
 O' o 
 
PEASANT COSTUME. 
 
 225 
 
 Carpathians bounding the sunny plain, and seen 
 through the interlacing of walnut boughs springing 
 from the terrace beneath. It was very delightful, 
 and so also were the coffee and roll when at length 
 they made their appearance—the coffee in tall glasses, 
 after a common continental fashion. 
 
 We had occasion to remark to-day that scarcely 
 any distinctive costume is worn in these parts; the 
 nearest approach to anything unusual being a shawl 
 thrown over the head by the women, and a round 
 straw hat perched on the summit; most of the 
 women and girls tie handkerchiefs over their head and 
 ears in a most unpicturesque and ungraceful manner. 
 
226 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 We started this morning (4tli July) to make the 
 tour of the beautiful avenues surrounding 1 the town : 
 they become more and more bowery as we advance, 
 until the arching canopy throws its grateful shade 
 entirely across the lime-scented, breezy, gravel walk. 
 
 Many parts of the fortified wall are almost hidden 
 
 by straggling boughs from within, and the foliage of 
 the deep moat without the enclosure; the thickly- 
 wooded mountain slope rises steeply on the left 
 hand, and now and then we cross an open glade, 
 where the sweet hay is still tossing on the ground, 
 sprinkled from above by the lime blossoms. 
 
THE WEBER BASTION. 
 
 227 
 
 There are towers at intervals—no two alike; and 
 an interesting mass of buildings—the Weber Bastion, 
 forming the south-west angle of the walls—stands 
 most picturesquely on the summit of a sylvan glade of 
 grassy earth and glorious trees, sweeping downwards 
 
 towards a gate of the city, the only one of the three 
 city gates now remaining; as leading to the Rou¬ 
 manian suburb it is sometimes called the Wallachian 
 gate. Close beside it stands a most picturesque 
 building, with high, red-brown roof and tall spire, 
 
228 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 surrounded by four pointed turrets; it is the most 
 interesting relic of the Middle Ages in Kronstadt. 
 
 In former times a circle of thirty-two towers and 
 seven bastions surrounded the town; most of the 
 towers have fallen or been destroyed, and only a 
 few of the bastions remain—now principally used 
 for merchandise of different sorts. The moat between 
 the Heiligleicli Thor and the western corner tower of 
 the walls was filled up many years ago, and the 
 site is now occupied by a large girls’ school ; the 
 battlemented wall had been rebuilt after the 
 destruction of the city by the Turks in 1421. 
 
 In the afternoon we go out once more, under the 
 
 guidance of Mr. B-intending to ascend the 
 
 Kapellenberg; the weather is very sultry, and 
 threatening storm. The climb to the summit—■ 
 although the pathway is most elaborately zig-zagged 
 —looks appalling ; we hesitate, and finally prefer a 
 milder excursion—a ramble over the beautiful slopes 
 of the Raupenberg on the western side, with the 
 hope of reaching the £ Hanging Stone,’ from which a 
 magnificent view is promised. 
 
 We leave therefore the shady boulevard on the 
 left hand, and turning round by the corner, where 
 they are even now engaged in the ruthless destruction 
 
THE WHITE AND BLACK TOWERS. 
 
 229 
 
 of another bastion, enter upon a narrow pathway 
 between the northern city walls and a tiny streamlet 
 shaded by trees. A little further on we find the 
 narrow gorge spanned by arches, like great flying 
 buttresses, which connect the fortified wall with the 
 opposite rocks; the archway nearest to the northern 
 bastion opens beneath a sort of dwelling-house, on 
 
 the side of which there is a tablet with a long 
 
 o 
 
 inscription. 
 
 A round tower—the White Tower—stands near 
 the base of the sharp ascent; beyond this the 
 Black Tower crowns some masses of gray rock. These 
 towers are without doors, the soldiers being pulled 
 up through a window high up in the massive wall. 
 
 The Black Tower was formerly surrounded by 
 woodwork, which in 1599 was burnt, and the tower 
 received its distinctive name from its blackened walls ; 
 
230 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN RODMANIA. 
 
 the White Tower, built in 1494 on a neighbouring 
 pinnacle, had been encased in the same manner, and 
 also burnt, but was restored in the last century. 
 These watch-towers are interesting and picturesque 
 objects in the landscape, but are little, if at all, used 
 in the present day. 
 
 The steep surface of the hill below the Black 
 Tower is curiously mapped out with bars and frames, 
 tier above tier, for some distance upwards; these 
 
 are used for stretching and drying the lengths of 
 Kronstadten cloth—a very strong dark cotton fabric ; 
 it is left out there night and day, and the little huts 
 for the watchers are dotted all about. 
 
 Passing this, a lovely winding pathway leads us 
 upwards, by orchards, gardens, high hedges, and hay- 
 fields full of chattering, laughing haymakers, till 
 we enter the Lilac Lane, bordered by vigorous lilac 
 bushes, not now in blossom, but though the scented 
 
A STORM. 
 
 231 
 
 clusters had long since been shed, the soft air was 
 charged with all sweet perfumes from lime-tree, 
 hayfield, and briar-rose; and the view of distant 
 mountains and nearer wooded gorge became at 
 every opening of the leafy wall more beautiful. We 
 look downwards towards the Roumanian suburb of 
 Kronstadt, a perfect bower and garden, through 
 which the roofs gleam, with here and there a church 
 turret or metal-covered dome; the orchards and 
 meadows on their undulating slopes remind one of 
 the lovely Devonshire uplands; the forest-clothed 
 mountains, with a distant snow-streaked rocky crest, 
 take one in fancy to Switzerland. 
 
 We gaze at all this beauty calmly, reposedly, as 
 we rest under an awning outside a little cafe on the 
 summit of the hill, and we speculate on the possible 
 approach of the black storm clouds rolling over the 
 distant plain; all at once the doubt ceases, the 
 wind tears at the frail awning, it roars through the 
 trees of the mountain - side, mingled with sharp 
 thunder-claps and vivid lightning, and as we turn 
 into the shelter of the house, the tempest falls in 
 sheets of water. Most thankful are we to have 
 reached this humble haven before the outburst. Our 
 further excursion was of course impossible, and the 
 
232 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 return to the hotel was made through streamlets of 
 water rippling down the well-kept gravel pathway. 
 
 Kronstadt is blessed apparently with liberal muni¬ 
 cipal authorities, that thoroughly appreciate and carry 
 into execution the delightful theory, that rural 
 ‘ promenades ’ and practicable country lanes are bene¬ 
 ficial to all concerned, and should have a softening 
 influence over even the roughest spirits, although 
 our startling and almost unique experience the next 
 day of being pelted with stones and clods of earth 
 whilst quietly sketching the Schlossberg from this 
 hill-side, showed that there was still something to 
 be done in the way of civilizing the youthful 
 Kronstadters. 
 
 One of the pleasant little pathways starts from the 
 foot of the fire-tower and engine-house; it pauses at 
 an enormous beech-tree that throws a broad circle 
 of shade surrounded by benches; it is the station for 
 the military band on summer afternoons. We have 
 sauntered there in the morning—it is close to the 
 hotel—and watch with admiration the conscientious 
 labours of the man employed to keep the place free 
 from even a vagrant dead leaf. Above this spot 
 we have a beautiful view of the Schlossberg, with its 
 glacis and turreted walls rising grandly above the 
 
Solomon’s rock. 
 
 233 
 
 cultivated plain, which is bounded in the far distance 
 by the faint, pale masses of the Carpathians, the 
 western boundary of Upper Moldavia. 
 
 We failed, through the unsettled state of the 
 weather, to pay our intended visit to ‘ Solomon’s 
 Rock,’ a cavern to which, according to tradition, the 
 Hungarian King Solomon retired after his defeat by 
 the Bulgarians, and lived there as a hermit till his 
 death in 1087. On the exterior point of the rock 
 there is a small cavity made (says the legend) by the 
 hoof-print of the horse on which Solomon boldly leapt 
 the chasm to escape his pursuers. 
 
 The dinners at our comfortable Hotel Bukurest 
 were served in a tolerably good ‘ restauration ’ on 
 the ground-floor of the establishment; the waiters 
 w T ere civil and obliging, but the interchange of ideas 
 on the momentous question of ordering the repast 
 was an insurmountable and daily recurring difficulty. 
 The bill of fare is duly brought and studied with as 
 successful an appearance of understanding ‘ all about 
 it ’ as we could manage to assume; but the paper, 
 written out in a vile, scrambling hand, supposed 
 to be German, but probably with a large dash of 
 Hungarian and Roumanian in the names of the 
 enigmatical dishes, might quite as well — for our 
 
234 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 bewilderment — have been Japanese. We make an 
 effort, and reasoning that the items first on the list 
 must mean soup, we point out one; two bowls are 
 brought, we have judged correctly, and emboldened 
 by success, slip a guiding finger down a reasonable 
 distance and stop at another hieroglyphic; the waiter 
 solemnly glides up to the table with two more bowls! 
 —the very same over again c with a difference.’ The 
 dinner ended rather abruptly, and on the following 
 day, with a crest-fallen feeling, we find it safest to 
 seek out and order the one word that in every carte 
 strikes the eye of the British tourist all over the 
 continent—a supposed rendering of ‘ beefsteak,’ or 
 the other equally universal ‘ veal cutlets.’ I knew 
 a servant once in Salonica who, speaking a ‘ very 
 little ’ English, described this last-named viand as 
 ‘ cow’s child’s beef.’ 
 
 There was only one individual in the establishment 
 who could speak and understand a few words of 
 French—the little daughter of the buxom hostess— 
 an educated young lady who went to school and was 
 very profuse in little bows and compliments, with 
 offerings of tiny posies, but the moment we endea¬ 
 voured to use her attainments as interpretress, the 
 child disappeared, and we were ‘ left lamenting.’ 
 
A MONOTONOUS DEIYE. 
 
 235 
 
 There were times when our difficulties vanished 
 like snow in sunshine, on the arrival of our obliging 
 guide, a Roumanian, speaking English perfectly; and 
 on one of these occasions we started in an open 
 carriage for the town and ruined castle of Rosen au, 
 a drive of about an hour and a half from Kronstadt. 
 
 The road lies at first along the wearisome, most 
 uninteresting Altstadt, which ends with the old Gothic 
 church of St. Bartholomew. In the earlier days, and 
 before the city had been wise enough to retire within 
 the embrace of the sheltering mountains, the old 
 Kronstadt ended at this church, which stands at the 
 angle where the high road to Rosenau from the east 
 would lead on to the Tortzburg Pass. 
 
 In spite of the fine line of wooded heights on the 
 left hand, this road, shadeless, dusty, quite straight 
 for miles, and utterly detestable, skirts the plain of 
 the Burzenland, that stretches out monotonously 
 towards the west, scarcely varied by a few tawny- 
 looking villages or farm-buildings sparsely sprinkled 
 on its surface. The sun darts down his pitiless, 
 unwinking rays, and we feel that we are paying 
 a dear price for the sight of Rosenau. Our spirits 
 are hardly enlivened by the passage through the 
 £ bourg ’ of Neustadt, a continuation of the dusty road, 
 
236 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 supplemented by hideous stone houses standing close 
 together on either side for at least a mile; no 
 verandahs, no shady eaves, no pilasters, no flowers ; 
 scarcely a tree anywhere, but plenty of black or 
 grimy pigs, and an untidy-looking peasantry. Many 
 houses have the names of their founders or owners 
 written outside, and there are great arched gateways 
 to almost every dwelling, leading into littered farm¬ 
 yards. There is scarcely a side street in the whole 
 loim stretch of Neustadt, which seems as if it revelled 
 in the thick clouds of dust raised by the never-ending 
 procession of the hay-carts. 
 
 At length we leave the brick and mortar behind us, 
 and turning towards the hills, see the ruins of the 
 castle of Rosenau towering above a fine church and 
 a town that looks scarcely less bare and uninviting 
 than Neustadt. We stop at the principal inn of the 
 place, and rest in a dull but shady parlour before 
 climbing the castle hill. 
 
 The path upwards is reached through a gap in 
 a fence, a thicket, a scramble across a dry ditch, 
 and then by a well-kept, very winding little pathway 
 up the steep flank of the mountain. We are repaid 
 for all we have undergone. There is no dust here; 
 the burning sun-rays come tempered by the fresh 
 
THE HOSTESS OF THE RUINS. 
 
 237 
 
 mountain breezes; the glorious view of mountain 
 and deep gorge open out as we rise, and often pause 
 to rest on hospitable benches set amidst the stern 
 gray boulders, and the soft beauty of wild blossoms; 
 and so, wdnding gently upwards, we reach the outer 
 gateway, and pass on into the walled and battle- 
 mentecl enclosure. 
 
 A bell-wire is hanging somewhere about the rough 
 wall, and in answer to its weak jangling voice, 
 another voice, scarcely more harmonious, is wafted 
 down from a small grated opening. We look up. 
 It is an old woman who is inviting us, in cheery 
 tones, to come up-stairs. We go up-stairs cautiously, 
 as the stairs are of very uncertain strength, and at 
 the top find an old lady wearing high jack boots 
 revealed by the shortest of petticoats; her scanty, 
 grizzling locks tied back with a broad black ribbon, 
 an enormous pair of goggles also tied on, and a 
 genial, smiling, good-humoured old face, that makes 
 us all friends at once. This worthy creature tells 
 us that she lives amidst the ruins all the year 
 round with her old husband, who is the fire ‘ ritter ’ 
 (watcher to give the alarm of fire in the town below), 
 that she has two cows, makes butter, &c. An open 
 book laid on the table for signatures, and a money- 
 
238 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 box with a slit show us also that she counts, not 
 unnaturally, on the generosity of her visitors. 
 
 We are able to make two sketches—a corner of the 
 fortifications, with noble mountain heights in the 
 background ; and from another window, the Butchesch 
 and the Konigstein, streaked with snow. 
 
 She was such a queer little old body, our hostess 
 
 of the ruins!—and she beamed on us so merrily 
 through those saucerdike horn-bound glasses, that 
 we felt irresistibly impelled to slip in rather exten¬ 
 sively through the slit in the ‘ tire-lire/ and her 
 gratitude made her dash off into a ragged bit of 
 wilderness, amongst the ruins, doing duty for a 
 garden, and to cut ruthlessly the only flowers it 
 could boast—some sprigs of yellow broom. Then 
 
INTERIOR OF THE FORTRESS. 
 
 239 
 
 she takes us over the ruins, and through a gateway- 
 opening out upon the glorious mountain scenery. 
 The long dusty road from Kronstadt is all forgotten 
 as we gaze down into these depths of forest, these 
 billowy masses of foliage, as they roll upwards, wave 
 upon wave, till they melt in the stern majesty of 
 rock-bound summits. 
 
 The interior enclosure of the fortress is filled 
 with ruined cottages, as in former times of danger 
 the inhabitants of the town took refuge within the 
 castle. At that time also a due supply of water 
 was not wanting. An enormous well, that dates from 
 1650, cut out of the rock, descends to the level of 
 the plain, although the machinery for raising the 
 water—no longer needed—has decayed, and the well 
 is supposed to be dry. Our old £ vrow ’ lights a 
 great armful of straw and casts it down to show 
 the depth of the chasm; as far as it could be seen it 
 goes down, always down, until the last faint spark 
 expires, still descending. The square aperture is 
 about six feet across either way. It is a £ gruesome ’ 
 place. 
 
 It rained as we wound down the steep declivity, 
 and we were not sorry to rest in the little inn 
 parlour while waiting for the carriage, and to watch 
 
240 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 from the clingy windows for whatever objects of 
 interest that dull and uninteresting street might 
 chance to offer. 
 
 They came—in the shape of the Rosenau pigs ! It 
 was nearly sunset, and we had felt for a few minutes 
 that a mysterious movement trembled and thrilled 
 the still evening air ; it strengthens, draws nearer, 
 and resolves into a dull sound of pattering, mingled 
 with grunts; the pigs of Rosenau are returning 
 spontaneously to their respective homes. First, two 
 or three black, long-legged porkers trot easily along; 
 then a few, more hastily; the crowd thickens; they 
 begin to scamper, to gallop, till the broad roadway 
 is full of galloping pigs,' each going to his own home 
 v'ithout guidance. A few of the old ones are more 
 sedate, but the younger piggies, with tightly curled 
 tails, fling up their heels and rush along as if terribly 
 behind time. A hundred at least must have passed 
 the window. It was infinitely droll to see the hurried 
 but unerring exactitude with which each took its 
 own street turning. 
 
 The Rosenau pigs are quite untrammelled, and 
 they seem to feel that, in these countries, they 
 have a social standing in the animal kingdom, a 
 recognized importance, and they display a freedom 
 
KRONSTADT WEEKLY FAIR. 
 
 241 
 
 of demeanour quite unknown in connection with 
 our own pigsties. 
 
 On the morning of our departure the weekly fair 
 was being held in the great open space—the parade- 
 ground. Near the hotel the grass is covered with 
 cattle, vast loads of hay, and peasants from the 
 neighbouring villages; but there is very little dis¬ 
 tinctive costume even among these country people, 
 nor did we find in the town market any fruits, 
 vegetables, or other produce which was not already 
 quite familiar. 
 
 In the afternoon we left Kronstadt, feeling; that 
 it was a place to which one would willingly return 
 for a summer rest and holiday. There are pretty, 
 rustic lodging-houses skirting the country, nestled 
 in trees, and garlanded with creepers, that look 
 very tempting, and are doubtless inexpensive; but 
 then the difficulties of language ! That they are not 
 insurmountable in every case was proved by the 
 clear manner in which our special waiter at the 
 Hotel Bukurest conveyed to our minds the remark 
 that the service was not charged in the bill, and 
 that therefore he, or rather they (there was a head- 
 waiter besides, and two chamber-maids) remained 
 expectant! But every one was satisfied at last, and 
 
242 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 escorted by our kind friend Mr. B—, we rolled along 
 to the railway-station, finding it crowded by scholars 
 and their friends who had come to fetch them away 
 for their holidays. The schools at Kronstadt, both 
 for boys and girls, are renowned, and children are 
 even sent here from Bukurest. 
 
 We could appreciate the exquisite scenery of the 
 Tombs Pass and of the Prahova Thai much better 
 on our return than on our arrival, when the heavy 
 clouds and rain had obscured its beauties. People 
 say that it was even finer, seen from the old carriage- 
 road, before the railway cut a rigid line across the 
 landscape. 
 
 A tiresome delay at the frontier, with a triple 
 examination of passports, afterwards soothed by a 
 cup of excellent coffee in the station garden, broke 
 the journey to Bukurest, where we arrived quite 
 late in the evening, very tired, but cheered at length 
 by the bright and friendly welcome of the Hotel 
 Brofft. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 CAMPU-LUNG—NAMOESHTI—RIMNIK—VALCEI. 
 
 A Flight from the ‘ City of Pleasure ’—A New Line—Mdme. 
 Cavallar — Market People — Lucika — Ancient Church of 
 Campu-lung—Portraits of the Domni—Inscriptions—The 
 Monastery of Namoeshti—A Grotto Church—The Maica 
 Staritza and her Balcony—Drive to Rucar—Lovely Scenery 
 —Saw-mills—Bad Accommodation—The Caverns of Rucar— 
 Source of the Dimbovitza—The Impressions of the Guide’s 
 Guide—Beauty of the Women—Again at Namoeshti—Wel¬ 
 come and Rest—-Marie—Maica Melania, her Flowers, and her 
 Fluffy Dog—The Mad Girl—Waving Farewells—Effusive 
 Welcomes—Long Route to Rimnik—A Miserable ‘ locanda ’ 
 —A Sigh for Civilization—From the Window. 
 
 On the 13 th July we left Bukurest once more for the 
 lower slopes of the Southern Carpathians, this time 
 accompanied by the kind and faithful interpreter 
 who had been with us in our previous wanderings in 
 Moldavia. He had come from Galatz to join us, but 
 arriving, as we feared, rather late for the train, we 
 are obliged to submit without protest to the ‘ ways 
 and manners ’ of the reckless drivers, and tear along 
 wildly to the station. We have ten minutes to spare ; 
 we breathe again; it would have been a real disaster 
 
 K 2 
 
244 
 
 UNTRODDEN" PATHS IN ROUMANI A. 
 
 to be compelled to spend even one night uselessly in 
 the stifling atmosphere of the ‘ City of Pleasure.’ 
 
 The road was familiar and monotonous; we had 
 been over it on our way to and from Curtea d’Argesch, 
 but changing at Goleshti for a branch line, we enter 
 upon new ground. 
 
 This line also was quite newly opened, distressingly 
 new and elementary, especially in the matter of the 
 bridges spanning the innumerable little streams in 
 this well watered country. You held your breath 
 as the train rolled very slowly along the quite un¬ 
 protected rails, feeling as if passing through the air 
 above the rocky river-bed. The men still at work on 
 the bridge had left some bit of iron cumbering the 
 line; they drag it back by main force, and hold it 
 till the train has passed; but we were very near an 
 accident, providentially averted. Before crossing 
 these bridges we had stopped at the little station 
 of Florica, where the Minister, M. Bratiano, alighted, 
 with some members of his family—a quiet, venerable- 
 looking man, quite without any sign of pomp or 
 ostentation. It was a pleasing little family party that 
 drove off in a modest chaise, followed by two or three 
 dogs, towards a very simple country house on the 
 slope of the wooded hill. 
 
DROLL COSTUMES. 
 
 245 
 
 We reach Campu-lung in the evening, very weary, 
 after a long and trying journey in a crowded carriage, 
 and drive by a dusty road to the Post-house, to which 
 we had been directed by a friend at Bukurest. "We 
 were not expected, and it was a little time before 
 Madame Cavallar, the occupant of the ground-floor, 
 could be brought out and made to understand our 
 wishes; but she proved a most accommodating 
 hostess, turning out immediately all her belongings 
 from the principal room, and fitting it up for our 
 benefit. A little ‘ restauration ’ on the opposite side 
 of the green supplied a simple and certainly very 
 inexpensive dinner. 
 
 On the following morning we find that our win¬ 
 dow’s command an amusing view of the gathering of 
 market people. Costumes are in full vigour here ; the 
 women’s dress especially droll. They have, it is true, 
 the picturesque hanging sleeves and the heavily 
 ornamented apron, but here the apron is folded so 
 tightly round the figure that the woman looks like 
 a vivified mummy, and on the top of the graceful 
 veil they put the finishing touch by—an unmitigated 
 black billycock hat 1 
 
 Madame Cavailar has a little' daughter, whom she 
 calls Lucika—a bright, intelligent little thing; we 
 
246 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 discover, to our joy, that she speaks French !—a great 
 and unexpected advantage, for we had been struggling 
 hopelessly with our few words of Roumanian, helped 
 by signs, which our impulsive hostess cuts short by 
 a burst of laughter and a warm embrace, declaring 
 
 (as we understand) that she would do anything in 
 the world for us if she only could comprehend! 
 then—frantic calls for ‘ Lucika/ and the difficulty 
 is solved. 
 
 It was Lucika who guided us to an old church of 
 Campu-lung, not remarkable as a building, but con- 
 
PORTRAITS OF HISTORICAL PERSONAGES. 247 
 
 taining interesting full-length portraits of historical 
 personages—Matthieu Basaraba 1 and Doamna Elena, 
 holding between them the church of Campu-lung; 
 and Radu Negru Voivode, with Nicolai Alessandru of 
 Jassy, holding the representation of Curtea d’Argesch. 
 
 The description of the portrait of Radu Negru 
 is given by Ubicini. ‘ He is dressed in a coat 
 
 1 The Matthieu Basaraha above-mentioned, who built many 
 churches, monasteries, and hospitals, founded the monastery of 
 Arnaota, high up on the mountains above Rimnik Valce'i. He 
 was buried there, and his tomb still exists; we visited the neigh¬ 
 bourhood shortly after leaving Campu lung. 
 
248 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN RODMANIA. 
 
 embroidered in gold and silver, and a cloak trimmed 
 with black far; he wears a crown ; his complexion 
 is dark, and his long hair and beard black . 5 
 
 The inscriptions accompanying the portraits, as 
 
 rendered by our interpreter, ran thus for those on 
 the right hand, facing the altar—‘ The great and most 
 learned and docile Christian, Matthieu Basaraba, 
 Yo'ivode, Lord of the Roumanian land, and the Lady 
 of his Majesty, Elena . 5 For the other portraits, it 
 
CHURCH OP CAMPU-LUNG. 
 
 249 
 
 is said, £ Great Radu Negru, Voivode/ first of the 
 descending Lords of the Roumanian land,’ and £ Ales¬ 
 sandro, Voivode, of Jassy.’ This church is dedicated 
 to the £ Death of the Blessed Virgin,’ called £ Adormira ’ 
 (the Sleeping). 
 
 The entrance-gate and bell-tower of the enclosure 
 is rather fine ; the court is bordered on two sides by 
 the buildings of the monastery, now used by' the 
 married clergy attached to the services of the church. 
 
 We could find but slight trace of the castle spoken 
 of by historians, unless some crumbled ruins beneath 
 
250 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 the monastery enclosure may be taken as pointing 
 out the spot. 
 
 A beautiful view of the town is gained from a hill 
 beyond the old monastery; it spreads out to a great 
 extent along the valley, at the base of what may be 
 termed the ‘ foot hills.’ The whole country is beauti¬ 
 fully green and cultivated, with much woodland; 
 towards the north-west grand mountain summits, 
 purple and azure, rise into the clouds; at our feet 
 the river, fed by many rivulets, flows on in its shingly, 
 shallow bed. 
 
 In the afternoon we drive to the monastery of 
 Namoeshti, the road rising the whole way between 
 swelling wooded hills and pastures, until, at about an 
 hour’s distance from Campu-lung, we turn off to the 
 left and gain the village, where we stop at the foot 
 of a steep rocky pathway. Above us the monastery 
 seems to cling to the mountain-side; it may, indeed, 
 be said to be partly in and of the mountain, as the 
 church is formed in a natural cavern in the rock, 
 slightly enlarged, but still showing in the roof and 
 walls the original formation. The legend relates that 
 a picture was found in a hollow on the summit of 
 the rock. This miraculous circumstance occasioned 
 further researches; they dug down, and soon dis- 
 
A GROTTO CHURCH. 
 
 251 
 
 covered a cavern of sufficient size to be converted 
 into a small church. While sketching the exterior 
 of this building, which is quite without architectural 
 beauty, we could see a nun kneeling on the point 
 of black rock at the spot where the picture had 
 
 been found; she was bowing incessantly, and crossing 
 herself as she bowed. 
 
 The Maica Staritza, hearing of our arrival, sent a 
 message to say that she would gladly receive our 
 visit. We pass on to greet her, and the heat render¬ 
 ing the small rooms of the monastic house almost 
 unendurable, the good ‘Mother’ leads us out on to 
 her cool balcony. It was perfectly delightful ! the 
 
252 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 kindly, gentle, soft-voiced Ma'ica Staritza, Glafira 
 Antonescu, the refreshing dukes and water, the 
 balcony laden with pots of heliotrope, mignonette, 
 and many fragrant blossoms, and, best of all, the 
 glorious view—the village in the valley beneath, with 
 its church and cottages half-hidden in the luxuriant, 
 
 sweet-scented limes; the upland pastures beyond; 
 the forest-clad mountains; the blue distant peaks. 
 It was all so pleasant, so restful, that we made arrange¬ 
 ments to return on our way back from Eucar, and to 
 spend a quiet Sunday in this peaceful spot. 
 
 On the 15th we left Mme. Cavallar’s kind if some- 
 
ALPINE SCENERY. 
 
 253 
 
 what impulsive attentions, and started afresh for 
 Rucar and the sources of the Dimbovitza—the carriage 
 being engaged to take us there, to drive us the next 
 evening; to Namoeshti, and to fetch us from thence 
 back to Campu-lung. 
 
 We take the same route as before, passing, how¬ 
 ever, the turning to Namoeshti, and continuing to 
 rise gently. The road is excellent, and kept in 
 admirable repair. As we advance, deep precipices and 
 gorges open out on our right band, the way being 
 bordered by strong wooden bars and posts wherever 
 there appears the slightest risk. At short distances 
 you find a road-keeper’s hut, or a gang of men busily 
 at work on repairs. The ascent, made by many 
 windings, is gradual; as usual, on all sides the most 
 lovely wild flowers, with quantities of blossoming 
 thyme, mingling its perfume with the scent of the 
 newly-made hayricks. The scenery becomes quite 
 Alpine, without, however, the crowning glory of the 
 eternal snows. 
 
 All the peasantry wear an unalloyed costume ; there 
 is as yet no trace of the idea of French modifications. 
 The women grow more swathed and mummy-like as 
 we advance, not so much bespangled as at Argesch, 
 but most of them wearing the comical round black hat 
 
254 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 over the flowing veil; all the women and girls are 
 spinning as they walk along. 
 
 We wind up and ever upwards, the scenery in¬ 
 creasing in beauty as distant mountain heights and 
 blue distances are revealed at each turn of the wind¬ 
 ing road. The air has become cooler, the breeze 
 almost bracing ; we wish—alas ! vainly—that we could 
 pause for a season on these same tliyme-scented, 
 wind-tossed heights, but the inexorable descent begins 
 as we -wind down on the other side of the mountain, 
 passing several saw-mills as the road follows the 
 course of the Dimbovitza, and meeting many teams 
 of oxen dragging painfully upwards the freshly-sawn 
 planks. Sometimes it is a huge tree, so large and 
 heavy that it had been divided in its length, each 
 half requiring from eight to ten oxen to pull it 
 up the mountain-side. The saw-mills are terribly 
 active throughout the long valley; it is to be hoped 
 that the ‘ Woods and Forests ’ department of the 
 Government, if such exist, will keep a strict and 
 regulating supervision over these beautiful tracts of 
 virgin forest. 
 
 Rucar is what the French would term ‘ un bourg, : 
 possessing two or three government buildings, that 
 raise it almost to the rank of a small township. In 
 
EOUGH ACCOMMODATION. 
 
 255 
 
 itself it is not interesting, but it lies in the heart of fine 
 mountain scenery, near the source of the Dimbovitza, 
 which flows, with many little sandbanks and shallows, 
 the length of the village ; meanders through Wallachia, 
 taking an eastward course, and attains its highest 
 dignity as it rolls its turbid waters through Bukurest. 
 
 There was no room for us in the poor little hotel, 
 as the only habitable apartments had been engaged 
 for the season. A touting guide urges us to inquire 
 at a private house. This did not promise badly at 
 first; the house was quite new, and could not as yet 
 have become hopelessly dirty; but oh ! the accom¬ 
 modation !—of the very roughest. The Khans of 
 Albania were scarcely more utterly uncomfortable, 
 and it was very wearily that we arose the next morn¬ 
 ing, to breakfast on strongly-burnt milk, eggs quite 
 raw (though supposed boiled), and coarse bread, 
 ending, as a fitting finish, with a heavy charge. 
 
 The programme of the tour included a visit to the 
 sources of the Dimbovitza and the Dimbovichiora, of 
 which we have heard enthusiastic praise. The stream 
 issues from a cavern in the mountain-side, at two 
 hours’ distance from Rucar, flowing through a defile 
 of exceeding wildness and beauty. But now, alas ! a 
 new difficulty arose—the horses arrived with the 
 
256 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 clumsiest of pack-saddles, unprovided even with the 
 rough high peak that can serve as a pommel on a 
 great emergency. A side-saddle was not to be 
 thought of; such a thing had probably never been 
 seen in this part of the country. There was abso¬ 
 lutely no safeguard, and the road was said to lead 
 forty or fifty times across the pebbly bed of the 
 stream; so, very unwillingly, and feeling deeply the 
 humiliation of our failure, we despatched the inter¬ 
 preter, with a guide, to see and report on the wonders 
 of the cavern. Five hours later he returned, and this 
 is the account he gave of his experiences. 
 
 The road turned to the left after leaving the out¬ 
 skirts of Rucar, and soon entered the gorges of the 
 mountain. The scenery on either side became grand 
 and stupendous, the sheer-cut wall of rock rising 
 straight up nearly out of sight. The pass is at times 
 so narrow as to leave scarcely room for the horse and 
 a man’s foot; the way, a perpetual zigzag across the 
 shallow stream—sometimes it runs along its bed ; the 
 most beautiful ferns and vegetation drape the rocky 
 walls until the cavern is reached. Here it is neces¬ 
 sary to dismount; descend some rude steps cut in the 
 rock, and you find yourself in a stupendous cave, the 
 roof glittering with beautiful stalactites, that sparkle 
 
CAVE OF RTJCAR. 
 
 257 
 
 like columns of diamonds in the feeble light of tapers 
 borne by the party. In one part it appears as if 
 supported on slender natural pilasters; there are 
 lateral openings going off into unknown depths. 
 
 A little boy had been engaged as guide to the 
 guide (a not unusual division of responsibilities in 
 these eastern lands), and the following conversation 
 took place between the ingenuous youth and our 
 worthy Bar, who begins— 
 
 ‘ Do many people visit this cavern ? ’ 
 c Yes, a great many.’ 
 
 ‘Why do they come?'—do they hope to find 
 treasure ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Of course ! ’ 
 
 ‘ Has any one found any ? ’ 
 
 ‘No!’ 
 
 ‘ Why, then, do they come ? ’ 
 
 ‘ I don’t know—perhaps they are mad ! ’ 
 
 During this time, in a condition of melancholy 
 depression, we are making futile efforts to ‘ fetch a 
 walk; ’ but there is no shaded spot to impress the 
 soothing conviction that it was really so much better 
 to have avoided the long ride under the burning 
 sun! It was all burning sun and stifling heat in 
 and around the village; to climb the heights was 
 
258 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 too great an undertaking under the lowering 
 storm-clouds. 
 
 1 he refreshing sound of rushing water draws us 
 to a neighbouring clump of trees leading to the 
 saw-mills; we find it the favourite bathing-place 
 of the population. We wander aloDg the course of 
 the shallow stream, but there is no crossing-plank 
 between the heaps of shingle, and the river is rushing 
 
 swiftly through by several channels; so we stop to 
 watch a group of girls in their picturesque costume 
 laying out long strips of homespun linen to bleach ; 
 some have fair hair rippling back from the forehead, 
 bright blue eyes, and still bluer beads in profusion 
 round the throat. They gaze in return at the 
 strangers, and come forward to ask what we can 
 possibly seek in their remote home. Not finding 
 
PEASANT WOMEN. 
 
 259 
 
 an answer within the compass of our few words of 
 Roumanian, we can only smile in response to their 
 good-humoured, laughing inquiry, and pass on our 
 way, not rejoicing, amidst quantities of hewn timber 
 cumbering the ground, chips and rubbish scattered 
 everywhere. A refreshing walk is impossible, but 
 we can at least admire the pretty women and girls 
 who seem rather numerous in Rucar. Several are 
 quite beautifully dressed, in spite of the mummy-like 
 aprons so tightly bound around their limbs, that one 
 wonders how they can move with any comfort; but 
 the silk or gossamer veil gracefully draped about the 
 head and shoulders, the embroidered linen garment, 
 the bright complexion, and the above-mentioned 
 bluest eyes and bluest necklaces that can be seen 
 anywhere, rendered these peasant women the greatest 
 attraction in their native place. The peasantry 
 generally throughout the country appear well and 
 solidly dressed, in many cases the garments seem 
 quite new; there is scarcely a ragged person or a 
 sign of abject poverty visible, at least to the passing 
 stranger. We had noticed one ragged beggar at 
 Campu-lung, but his dirty tatters formed quite the 
 exception to the general appearance of clean, strong, 
 good clothes. 
 
200 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 "We were very glad to find ourselves once more 
 in the carriage, and winding our way upwards to 
 breathe the fresh air of the higher level in the 
 deep shadow of the mountain. After this the road 
 descends, but still in deep shadow, for it is late 
 afternoon, and the sun has shed his parting gleams 
 before we reach Namoeshti. 
 
 We are expected at the little monastery, and a 
 pleasant room has been prepared, with a great cluster 
 of lilies on the table by way of welcome; the little 
 windows open on the outside balcony, where a row 
 of plants in blossom are the especial care of the 
 Maica Arfundarah. The comfortable beds are delight- 
 fully restful after our late experiences, the air on 
 the mountain-side is fresh and flower-scented, and 
 the place itself so soothingly peaceful! 
 
 On Sunday morning a silvery tinkle sounds from 
 some tiny ‘ campanile ’ in the convent precincts, 
 followed later by the tic-a-toc of the bar and mallet ; 
 some people from the surrounding cottages and from 
 the town are collecting slowly, and passing into the 
 rock church. 
 
 There is a good-natured young Roumanian lady 
 here, the only French-speaking person in the place— 
 she boards with the maicas, in the hope that the 
 
mai c a melania’s little dog. 
 
 261 
 
 pure air and climate of Namoeshti may relieve a 
 distressing nervousness that affects her speech; but 
 she has taken us under her especial care, and quite 
 early looks in at the door with the offer of a bowl 
 of hot milk and bread. The resources of the little 
 community are certainly small, and such as they are 
 were not at first so willingly produced as usual in 
 the monasteries. Two reasons may naturally account 
 for this—their real poverty, and the near vicinity to 
 Campu-lung, whose inhabitants make Namoeshti the 
 aim of a summer day’s excursion. To many such 
 holiday-makers lavish hospitality, if possible, would 
 be highly inexpedient; so we took the milk, always 
 rather coarse in quality, and admired Maica Melania’s 
 flowers and her fluffy little white dog, a Spitz, very 
 fat, very much washed and combed, and very much 
 petted, with his snowy silken tufts tied up with blue 
 ribbons : name, Azor. There was another, a large dog, 
 attached to the establishment, supposed to be fright¬ 
 fully savage, but who showed abject subjection to the 
 little Spitz, who barks and growls furiously at the 
 big monster, nearly the size of a St. Bernard. When 
 Azor has been duly admired we are taken into the 
 maica’s room, a very prettily-furnished apartment, 
 its chief ornament a large mirror reaching from floor 
 
262 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 to ceiling ; we endeavour to make mild conversation, 
 and in the meantime the little community having 
 arrived at a better understanding of our social 
 position and probable benefactions, have contrived 
 to prepare a very excellent luncheon, including some 
 delicious clotted cream. It was beautifully laid out 
 on a spotless cloth, and with the attendance of the 
 ‘ savage dog ’ in a perfectly meek and subdued 
 condition. 
 
 Later in the day we again paid a visit to the 
 Mother Superior in her comfortable rooms, and after¬ 
 wards sat with her upon the balcony, with the 
 exquisite panorama spread out beneath ; we bought 
 also some coloured ornamental towels, woven and 
 embroidered by the nuns. The good Staritza tells 
 us that she is obliged to keep the door of her apart¬ 
 ment closely locked on account of a mad young 
 woman, who often spends the day at the convent. 
 We had seen the unfortunate girl wandering listlessly 
 about—an elegant slim figure, well dressed, and wear¬ 
 ing a black veil over her delicate pale features; her 
 craze took certainly a most distressing turn—she 
 destroys all within her grasp, tearing the poor 
 Staritza’s cherished flowers, dashing about glass and 
 crockery ; she is the dread of the little community. 
 
THE INDISPENSABLE NECKLACE. 
 
 263 
 
 Under the guidance of our French-speaking friend, 
 Marie Hergott, we ramble through the village out to 
 the lanes and wooded mountain-slopes. She takes us 
 first to a neglected wilderness of a garden, with little 
 to recommend it except the splendid lime-trees heavy 
 with honeyed blossom ; no one here, they say, makes 
 any use of the flowers, so we collect as much as we 
 can carry, and wander on, through a ragged, pictur¬ 
 esque lane, and mostl/* along the lialf-dried-up river¬ 
 bed. Several groups of peasants sitting or crouching 
 by the road-side rise to salute us, and remain 
 standing till we have passed. Being Sunday, they 
 are gaily and brightly dressed, the women displaying 
 a great abundance of glittering coloured beads in 
 several rows. However poor a dress may be, the 
 bright necklace is never forgotten—it would seem the 
 one indispensable article of the costume; even the 
 dirty little ‘ slavey ’ at Madame Cavallar’s at Campu- 
 lung, in a shirt encrusted with dirt, keeps a string of 
 beads round her brown throat. 
 
 In the cool of the evening we depart; we have 
 paid a last visit to the gentle Ma’ica Staritza, Glafira 
 Antonescu, and with many sincere good wishes we 
 leave the little monastery, where we have spent some 
 peaceful, happy hours, and winding down the steep 
 
264 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANfA. 
 
 bit of ragged pathway, look back for a last greeting 
 to the little group of maicas and young girls gathered 
 on a sandy hillock to wave a farewell. The adieux 
 had been tearful on the part of poor Marie ; our short 
 visit had brought an enlivening change in her rather 
 monotonous life. 
 
 The drive back to Campu-lung was very pleasant, 
 but on nearing the town the driver, hitherto sub¬ 
 missive to the strongly enforced injunction to go 
 quietly, felt his sense of dignity outraged by such a 
 tame arrival; he whips up the horses to create a 
 furious clatter of bells, jangling harness, and sounding 
 hoofs ringing on the paved street; the loungers on 
 
AJST EFFUSIVE WELCOME. 
 
 265 
 
 the promenade turn round; every one looks up to 
 wonder what can have brought foreigners into their 
 remote district. We feel for a moment suddenly 
 raised to a position of eminence—as suddenly 
 extinguished a few minutes later in the clasping 
 arms of our impulsive hostess of Campu-lung. She 
 pours out her welcome as to long-lost and almost 
 despaired-of friends ; the emotion is quite genuine, 
 if slightly embarrassing, and the poor woman has 
 done her very best to clean and prepare our room. 
 Lucika is dazzling in a spangled native costume ; the 
 dark-haired little servant has actually put on a clean 
 embroidered shirt. We dine for the last time at the 
 little ‘ restauration ’ across the market-place, with 
 its curtain of green haricot beans wreathing the open 
 side of the gallery—-a favourite floral ornamentation 
 of these humble dining-halls in country towns. 
 
 Madame Cavallar is the widow of a photographer, 
 and keeps on the business with the aid of an assistant. 
 To encourage a very hard-working and industrious 
 woman, we had our likenesses taken ; they proved, on 
 the whole, most creditable productions for Campu- 
 lung, though of rather awful aspect. 
 
 More tender farewells accompanied our departure 
 very early on the following morning, and the train 
 
266 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN EOUMANIA. 
 
 was soon whirling us over the ground passed on our 
 arrival ; again we crossed the aerial unfinished 
 bridges, and soon afterwards stopped at Goleshti. 
 
 The service is as yet ill-organized, as far as the 
 comfort of passengers is concerned. We remained a 
 full hour at Goleshti waiting- for the train which was 
 to take us on to Bimnik, without the possibility of 
 obtaining the slightest refreshment; then, after a very 
 short interval, stop again, to find a plenteous table 
 spread, with only a quarter of an hour in which to 
 profit by it. The remainder of the journey was 
 unmitigated suffering from the intense heat and long 
 delays at various stations. As we advanced the train 
 became crowded by people on their way to the 
 mineral baths in the neighbourhood of Bimnik 
 Yalcei. 
 
 The line has now dipped down away from the 
 Carpathians for a while, and we are rolling over the 
 burning plains of Wallachia, dried, calcined by the 
 long drought ; all the maize crop—so indispensable 
 for the food of the peasantry, the mamaliga—must 
 perish ; the birch-trees everywhere look dying ; and, 
 to add to our personal discomfort, the sun blazes on 
 our side of the crowded carriage during the long 
 weary hours. 
 
ARRIVAL AT RIMNIK. 
 
 267 
 
 We turn northwards once more, taking a branch 
 line near Slatina, and again we are on a perfectly new 
 road, with its unknown and untried possibilities. 
 
 Approaching the mountains, the scenery becomes 
 varied and interesting; our spirits rise with the 
 prospect of shade and with the fresher air of the 
 grassy slopes. We roll on and on, and just after sun¬ 
 set, from behind a green and flowery hillock, the 
 view opens out, and Rimnik, with innumerable spark¬ 
 ling cupolas, spreads out at the foot of a range of 
 hills. 
 
 The train stops, and Bar immediately rushes 
 forward to secure a carriage. The usual screaming 
 and vociferation ensues ; every one wants carriages, 
 and there are very few in waiting ; however, we start, 
 and the surly young driver, deaf to the repeated shout 
 of £ ma'i inchet 5 (more slowly), rattles along with 
 dangerous swayings round the sharp corners, the 
 lighter luggage throbbing and jumping wildly. He 
 lands us at what looks like a stable-yard of the lowest 
 type, supplemented by a few rooms on the ground- 
 floor. The first glance at the room offered is 
 appalling, but it proves rather more habitable on 
 nearer acquaintance. At length (every thing being 
 comparative) we are fairly comfortable; we have 
 
268 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN EOUMANIA. 
 
 procured a light supper at a small restaurant opposite 
 —served of course in a beany arbour,—and have 
 returned to the comfort and resources of the spirit- 
 lamp, tea, preserved milk, and biscuits, supplementing 
 our meagre light by some excellent Roumanian 
 ‘ bougies ’ bought at Campu-lung, and set in small 
 tin measures ; but yet (shall I weakly confess it ?) 
 I looked forward with a glow of anticipation to the 
 comforts and luxuries of an extended tour in civilized 
 Switzerland, and especially to a time of rest in that 
 most restful, refreshing, and altogether delightful 
 home, the Pension Itten at Thun. Travelling expe¬ 
 riences of the rougher kind are not without charm—• 
 in expectation ; but are infinitely more delightful—in 
 remembrance. 
 
 We find that we must pass the next day at 
 Rimnik, and start very early on the day following for 
 Bistritza and the monastery of Horezu—not a 
 pleasant delay, as there is absolutely no prospect 
 beyond the stony street and the opposite houses. The 
 heat is stilling. 
 
 In the morning we find that the window of our 
 room is so near the ground that people can almost 
 look in from the outside. Peasants with their baskets 
 of fruit, vegetables, and small wares have gathered 
 
MARKET PEOPLE. 
 
 269 
 
 there, and are sitting and lounging about in the 
 small patches of shade. Two enormous scythes, that 
 curve in a menacing manner almost into the room, 
 have a most startling effect, but are easily understood 
 when we look out upon the wide-spreading black 
 hats, and perceive that a couple of reapers are 
 chatting pleasantly in the cool shadow of the house. 
 Then a woman comes along offering a sort of puffy 
 bun for sale; she returns to the charge so persist¬ 
 ently, that at length, in pity of her undiminished 
 store, we make a purchase. A few signs and the 
 word £ bani ’ are sufficient for the transaction. 
 
 Some of these market-people gathered before the 
 little locanda are worth attention. A few of the 
 women are graceful, with the embroidered aprons 
 before and behind, and the veil fastened far back 
 on the head and flowing down behind. Others 
 gather up their veils as a protection from the sun, 
 and look like Neapolitans of the olden time. All 
 linen is deeply embroidered on the hanging open 
 sleeves, and about the body of the garment. They 
 do not display the tight, mummy-like swathing as 
 worn at Campu-lung and -Rucar. Several women 
 pass, balancing on their heads heavy water-jars; 
 others sturdily wield their hatchets and bill-hooks. 
 
270 
 
 UNTRODDEN" PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 They are woocl-cutters ; and all who can by any 
 possibility have the hands free are spinning, spinning, 
 spinning. The picturesque distaff and spindle still 
 hold their own in this little-known corner of Eastern 
 Europe. 
 
 There is a baker’s shop opposite; he has just put 
 out a fresh stock of rings and greasy cakes ; his 
 small son, feeling the already burning heat, which is 
 certainly not freshened by the close neighbourhood 
 of the ovens, displays an utter contempt for the 
 restraints of civilization; he has shed his only" 
 garment, his little shirt, and flutters about quite 
 unencumbered and perfectly at ease. A great con¬ 
 trast to this ingenuous infant breaks on our dazzled 
 vision from the interior of the post carriage. It has 
 just rattled up to the gate of the inn, and we can 
 see a red velvet petticoat covered with gold em¬ 
 broidery and tiusel. We afterwa.rds found that it 
 was a woman in a sort of idealized native dress. 
 
 Our temporary dwelling at Rimnik was not a 
 haiven of rest. People came and went incessantly 
 along the sounding wooden corridor, young Rou¬ 
 manian officers aggravating the noise by the clanking 
 of their long swords. Rattling carriages drove jangling 
 under the archway, with families seeking for accommo- 
 
A NEGLECTED GARDEN. 
 
 271 
 
 dation, in vain. Every room was crowded, as this was 
 a stopping-place for the stream of visitors passing 
 onwards to the popular mineral baths of Calimaneshti. 
 
 Wandering- out in the afternoon in search of a better 
 restaurant, we reach, at some little distance from the 
 town, the new Hotel du Boulevard, to which we 
 should have gone. It is clean and fairly good, with 
 a wide, cool balcony commanding a pleasant prospect 
 of wooded hills. It has also the advantage of being 
 near the railway station. We determine to come 
 here on our return from Horezu, but for the present 
 we must endure a few more hours of heat and want 
 of ventilation in our stable-yard ‘ locanda,’ and in 
 the meantime endeavour to gain some idea of the 
 neighbourhood of Rimnik. Making our way along a 
 dusty, very dusty, but otherwise not unpleasant road, 
 we cross the river by a little wooden bridge, and 
 reach what might in better hands become a charming 
 garden. It looks like a bit of ‘ the forest primeval,’ 
 and is now a swampy wilderness ; but the lime-trees ! 
 —so sweet! such honey-laden masses of blossom!—you 
 almost forget the surrounding desolation. This public 
 garden covers a considerable extent. In the centre 
 a lonely, forlorn-looking cafe furnishes dulces, water, 
 and coffee, according to the excellent system of 
 
UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 272 
 
 light refreshment common throughout all Eastern 
 countries. After this slight rest, the proprietor shows 
 us some patent beehives, where, through a glass, the 
 bees can be seen busily engaged in plastering up the 
 doors of their cells full of honey. Near this spot, in 
 the same grounds, an establishment for mineral baths, 
 lately opened, looks clean and inviting enough. 
 
 In the evening, whilst quietly writing down the 
 journal of the day, we are startled by a scuffling 
 noise just outside the room door ; then exclamations ; 
 a sudden glow upon a curtained window; a great 
 commotion, and, opening the door, ten or twelve 
 men and boys are discovered occupied in smothering 
 the beginnings of a conflagration. A petroleum lamp 
 had been overturned, or otherwise taken fire. They 
 have the good sense to put an old sack over the 
 flames, and the matter is quickly ended ; but we 
 find it consolatory to remember, that in case of a 
 fresh outburst we are within three feet of the street 
 beneath our window. 
 
CHAPTER XIY. 
 
 HOREZTJ AND BISTRITZA. 
 
 On the Road—The Half-way House—A Chance Acquaintance—The 
 Monastery of Horezu—The Maica Staritza—The Maica Eco- 
 noma—Great and kindly Hospitality—Curious Architecture 
 of the Interior Court—Zealous Attentions—Interior of the 
 Church—Portraits of the Brancovano Family—The Beautiful 
 Screen—A neglected Garden—Bistritza, a Military School— 
 Tomb of St. Gregory—To the Hermit’s Cell—‘ A little way 
 up! ’—Across the Bed of a Cataract—Step by step on the 
 face of a Wall of Rock—The Cavern—Chapel and Cell of the 
 Hermit—A Second Chapel—Bats—Bolbeni—Difficult Ac¬ 
 commodation—The Host and Elorica his Wife—Patience and 
 Contemplation—Tearing to the Train. 
 
 We were very glad to leave Rimnik Valce'i, although 
 the carriage when it made its appearance about an 
 hour late did not promise a very prosperous day’s 
 journey. There were the usual four horses, but the 
 poor creatures looked so bony and ill-fed that they 
 scarcely seemed to have the strength of two tolerable 
 beasts. However, we start in a cloud of dust, having 
 the post-carriage just in front, and we catch occa¬ 
 sional glimpses of the gorgeous gold-embroidered 
 
274 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 velvet seen on the previous evening; the other 
 occupant of the ‘ Post ’ is a young officer on his way 
 to the great military school at Bistritza. 
 
 Not only do the horses justify our fears of their 
 incapacity, but their driver is decidedly surly and 
 unwilling to carry out our agreement to be taken in 
 the same day to Bistritza and to the monastery of 
 Hordzu; we feel a dispute imminent, but wait till 
 the cloud breaks. 
 
 The road lies through a fine undulating wooded 
 country, not as yet very mountainous, but with a 
 splendid distant view of mountain-peaks, which we 
 gradually approach. The high road—a very good 
 one—being under repair, the driver carries us by 
 short cuts across uncertain narrow field-paths, with 
 a strong tilt on one side, rather trying to small 
 parcels and weak nerves, but we scramble at length 
 on to the pebbly road, and eventually draw up to rest 
 ourselves and the already weary horses at a dis¬ 
 reputable-looking half-way house, which we prefer 
 not to enter, but to make the best of such provisions 
 as we could muster, on a table outside under the 
 great projecting roof. 
 
 The post-coach has also stopped here, and the 
 officer, who is being served with luncheon on the 
 
 1 O 
 
A CHANCE ACQUAINTANCE. 
 
 275 
 
 further end of the plank, seeing our preparation of 
 some bowls of Liebig, enters into conversation in 
 very good French. He is very gentlemanly and 
 agreeable, and later proves himself a valuable help 
 in the (anticipated) dispute with our ill-conditioned 
 driver, who refuses to carry us to Bistritza. It is 
 finally agreed that we shall reach the monastery of 
 Horezu and pass the night there. 
 
 After leaving the half-way house we continue to 
 wind upwards, and the scenery increases in beauty. 
 The distant blue summits have become evident in all 
 the exquisite details of woodland and upland meadow; 
 crags and bold promontories are strongly accentuated 
 against the pure sky and drifting clouds. High up on 
 one bold wooded slope a white monastery sparkles in 
 the midst of the forest; along the road some scattered 
 villages and many wayside crosses; on one spot 
 as many as fourteen of them, large and small, are 
 grouped together; they are roofed over and painted 
 in bright colours. 
 
 Our friendly travelling neighbour, the officer, leaves 
 the post-coach at a cross-road, and mounting his 
 beautiful mare, rides off in the direction of Bistritza. 
 This animal had been slightly injured on the previous 
 day, racing with a train, and her master had brought 
 
276 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 her thus far, fastened at the end of a chain to the 
 coach. <■ 
 
 We also jog on wearily, continuing to rise. 
 Another patch of road-mending occurs ; again we are 
 in the meadows swaying right and left. Walking is 
 considered preferable, until meeting a brook and no 
 bridge we creep into the carriage once more, and 
 only alight when the four miserable horses cannot 
 even pull us up the short but steep bit of road that 
 leads to the great gate of the monastery of Horezu. 
 
 A venerable Maica Staritza comes forward to receive 
 and welcome us, and we are ushered into a large and 
 lofty room, furnished in the style of a French country 
 house in the beginning of the century—wide soft 
 couches, many well-padded fauteuils, a large chan¬ 
 delier hanging from the ceiling, and on the walls 
 the portraits of the last of the Brancovanos (of the 
 direct line), and of his wife, with some others. 
 
 The monastery of Horezu was founded in 1694 
 by Constantin Bassaraba Brancovanu ; it was origin¬ 
 ally a monastery for men. Several years ago (pro¬ 
 bably at the time of the suppression of the greater 
 number of the Roumanian religious establishments) 
 the present small community of nuns was transferred 
 here from a monastery curiously named £ Dentru un 
 
THE MALCA STARITZA. 
 
 277 
 
 lemn ’ (inside of a tree), because, warned by a vision or 
 the miraculous discovery of some object in the hollow 
 of a venerable oak, a building was raised with the 
 f^ber of this tree, and in memory of the event. 
 
 
 Horezu exteriorily looks like a rather dilapidated 
 French chateau. 
 
 The Maica Staritza—her name is Ephraxia Andru- 
 nescu—is a genial, motherly kind of old lady; she 
 comes to pay the usual visit, doing the honours of 
 her house as well as possible through the interpreter. 
 
278 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 But conversation is not vivid under those circum¬ 
 stances, particularly as our worthy Bar takes five 
 slow minutes to turn each sentence into English : hut 
 we are very grateful to him nevertheless ; he is so 
 thoroughly respectable and trustworthy, and we 
 should he so utterly helpless without his aid. 
 
 After awhile a very gentle, sweet-looking, lady-like 
 woman enters the room, and takes her seat beside the 
 Staritza; she is the Maica Ecbnoma—having charge 
 of the secular business of the small community—and 
 her care of the visitors is soon made evident by the 
 appearance of a massive silver tray brought in by an 
 attendant, with sweets, water, and coffee. This lady 
 also inquires what we wish for dinner—a perplexing 
 though polite question, as the resources of the little 
 community must be strictly limited. The safe reply, 
 c Anything that you please to give will be acceptable,’ 
 was an evident relief and satisfaction to all concerned. 
 
 There was some difficulty about the accommodation 
 of our interpreter, the guest-rooms not being numer¬ 
 ous ; but it was finally decided to give him the room 
 of an absent Maica. It is not ‘ regola ’ (according 
 to rule), observed the Maica Agapia Dimitrescu, £ but 
 it cannot be helped,’ so we all felt that our quiet rest 
 was comfortably provided, and we proceeded to visit 
 
MONASTERY OF HOREZU. 
 
 279 
 
 such part of the monastery as still remained to the 
 good nuns, for—alas for them !—more than one-half 
 of the extensive buildings had been converted into a 
 hospital for the surrounding country. This part is 
 not in any way divided off from the monastery, and 
 the usual peaceful calm is broken by riotous children, 
 people of all sorts wandering about the vast court, 
 and an obtrusive piano mingling with the call to 
 prayer and continuing during the performance of the 
 service. 
 
 The monastery of Hor^zu, seen from within the 
 quadrangle, is of a very curious and picturesque style 
 of architecture; a very broad verandah or colonnade, 
 the roof supported on richly-carved and ornamented 
 columns runs along two sides of the building, a third 
 side being mostly occupied by the church. In this 
 verandah, deep square projections, like rooms with¬ 
 out walls, would serve as cool retreats during the 
 warm summer days, and the pleasant effect is in¬ 
 creased by two magnificent trees rising far above the 
 building, and throwing deep masses of flickering 
 shadow over the paved court. 
 
 The dinner, served in a long and rather gloomy 
 refectory, was excellent; everything spotlessly clean 
 and beautifully arranged, although the poor ladies do 
 
280 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN RODMANIA. 
 
 not cease to lament the loss of their former laro-e 
 
 O 
 
 means of entertainment for strangers. The beds 
 were also very good ; nothing so perfectly restful had 
 we experienced since leaving the comforts of our own 
 home. Sweets and fresh water were brought in for 
 the night. We rested thoroughly after our great 
 fatigue, and it was certainly trying that, very early 
 on the following morning, the great and anxious 
 hospitality of our hostesses occasioned frequent and 
 far too premature irruption into the rooms to ‘ clear 
 us up ’ and bring in the tiny cups of black coffee, to 
 be followed by a substantial breakfast, including a 
 great dish of freshly picked raspberries. 
 
 Before leaving Horezu we visit the church, guided 
 by the amiable Maica Aghpia. A certain Archiman¬ 
 drite, a great benefactor to the monastery, is buried 
 under the portico. The walls are as usual painted; 
 on the one side with illustrations of the happiness in 
 reserve for blessed spirits, on the other with the 
 horrors inflicted by the evil ones. The roof of this 
 portico is supported on columns similarly ornamented 
 to those of the verandah. 
 
 The interior is surrounded by portraits of the 
 Brancovano family ; the founder and his wife hold 
 between them a representation of the church ; they 
 
A BEAUTIFUL SCREEN. 
 
 281 
 
 are accompanied by their eleven children. All the 
 members of the family wear gold crowns ; some of the 
 little girls are very pretty ; one of them lies buried 
 in the church under a large and handsomely-sculp¬ 
 tured monument. On one side the wall are seen full- 
 length portraits of the benefactors and benefactresses 
 of the monastery; these, not belonging to a princely 
 family, have no crowns, but many of the costumes 
 are very curious illustrations of the style ‘of the 
 seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. 
 
 The church painted throughout—the columns even 
 showing life-size figures of saints—is rather dark, but 
 the wonder of the interior is the screen, a most ex¬ 
 quisite work of raised and undercut wood-carving, 
 gilt in parts, but with a gorgeous richness and yet 
 subdued harmony of effect rarely surpassed. It is 
 worth the fatigue and trouble of the journey to 
 look upon this beautiful specimen of church 
 decoration. 
 
 We pass into the garden; a wilderness of fruit- 
 trees and brambles, uncultivated and uncared-for. It 
 is a disputed possession between the despoiled monas¬ 
 tery and the hospital, therefore neglected by both the 
 conflicting interests; it does seem a hard measure to 
 have taken from the reduced community even their 
 
282 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 poor comfort in their garden. The ground covers a 
 beautiful slope downwards to the little river at the 
 bottom of the gorge, called by tlie Maica, the Horezu. 
 Each locality in these parts seems to rejoice in a river, 
 named especially after itself, as it flows by to join the 
 larger stream ; in this case, the Oltu. 
 
 Returning to the dining-room to take leave of 
 the Staritza, we find her at table with the priest 
 of the church, a married man, living with his 
 family in some rooms in the outer court. The 
 Maica Economa comes with us beyond the great 
 gateway almost to the carriage, and we parted with 
 real regret; they had been so kind and thoughtful 
 for our comfort during our short stay. 
 
 It was rather a long but yet a beautiful drive to 
 Bistritza; not the famous Moldavian monastery of 
 the same name that we had visited three years 
 previously, but an important building now a military 
 school. It is very extensive, and architecturally 
 quite uninteresting, but the situation is magnificent; 
 a splendid framework of mountain and forest. A 
 large empty monastery high up on the overhanging 
 heights, and containing the tomb of the founder, 
 Matthieu Bassaraba, is Arnaota, now only tenanted 
 by one old monk to guard the desolate tomb from 
 
TOMB OF ST. GREGORY. 
 
 283 
 
 utter abandonment; this same Bassaraba’s portrait 
 we had seen in the church at Oampu-lung. 
 
 Near the entrance-gate a superior officer with his 
 children is busy arranging the flowers in a tiny 
 garden plot. We ask permission to visit the build¬ 
 ing, which is given at once with great politeness; a 
 young officer is called. forward and deputed to guide 
 us, ‘ as he speaks French.’ We first enter the church, 
 not in any way remarkable, the only point of interest 
 being the tomb of St. Gregory, founder of the 
 original monastery; it is richly embossed with 
 gilded raised, work on the marble monument. 
 
 The greater part of the extensive buildings of 
 Bistritza are modern, having been erected about 
 forty years since by Prince Stirbey of Wallachia as 
 a summer palace; it afterwards remained for many 
 years unused, until at the time of the last Russian, 
 war, it was required for a depot of ammunition; finally, 
 after further additions to the building, it became a 
 military school containing one hundred and thirty 
 pupils and a garrison. 
 
 Our young guide is a native of Jassy, M. Jean 
 Vassiliou. After visiting the church he proposes to 
 take us to the cell of the hermit St. Gregory, £ a little 
 way up the mountain.’ This seems practicable, 
 
284 
 
 UNTRODDEN TATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 although the weather is very sultry, aud every step 
 an exertion. We wait while a small lantern and 
 some tapers are procured, and begin the ascent by a 
 rough path that soon becomes heavy with rolling 
 stones; it is relieved here and there by the shade of 
 wide-spreading oaks, and cheered by the blossoming 
 limes filling the air with their honied sweetness. 
 Resting to breathe under each friendly shade, I 
 gradually creep up the hillside, but the further road 
 looks still more arduous. ‘ A little courage/ says my 
 kind guide, £ it is quite easy.’ Easy ? I stumble and 
 plunge along from tree to tree, till we come upon a 
 glorious view of wooded ravine and pine-clad sum¬ 
 mits opening out towards the sunny slopes of distant 
 cultivation, A little river—the Bistritza—is rushing 
 through the immeasurable depths below, gleaming 
 in sparkles through the branches of the foliage. The 
 precipice on the right hand is a sheer descent into 
 the abyss ; but the thick tangle of tree and under¬ 
 wood relieve, to a great extent, the appearance, as, 
 indeed, the imminence, of danger. On the left the 
 mountain rises like a wall; the path, about two feet 
 wide, is rough and rocky, needing the strong helping 
 hands of our experienced conductor. We wind still 
 upwards round the face of a projecting spur, up and 
 
A DANGEROUS PATH. 
 
 285 
 
 over boulders, till the dry bed of a mountain cataract 
 obliterates all semblance of a pathway. It is a fear¬ 
 ful place !~—a nearly perpendicular incline of rolling 
 stones, with nothing between them and the yawning 
 chasm but a few weak stakes planted on the extreme 
 verge ; a serious slip would send one, stones and all, 
 quite over the frail, inefficient protection. Happily 
 both our guides are helpful and clever mountaineers. 
 With a strong pull we are heaved upwards on the 
 rolling stones till a sufficient purchase is gained 
 for a descent—to what?—it cannot be called even 
 a narrow 7, path—creeping round another shoulder of 
 the mountain, some slight hollows in the rocks, just 
 room for one foot at a time, clinging to the sustain¬ 
 ing hand of my guide, and placing step by step 
 as he left it free (the sheer precipice still mercifully 
 masked by foliage), we gain a tolerably level path a 
 yard wide. It continues for a short distance, then 
 descends sharply, and ends in a narrow ladder with 
 weak, uneven rungs very far apart, and sloping 
 towards the gulf, from which it is separated by the 
 slightest and shakiest of handrails. 
 
 At the foot of the ladder,—a platform of rock 
 scarcely affording space for us four people to stand, 
 —we find a low iron door set in the face of the 
 
286 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROU MANIA. 
 
 mountain; it is open, and here the lantern and 
 tapers are lighted. We bend down low to enter 
 the cavern, and continue thus for a few feet; then 
 upright, over wet, slippery stones, we reach a narrow 
 cleft; then again bending low and yet lower, almost 
 on hands and knees, room only for one foot at a time, 
 and so narrow that a stout man could not have 
 passed. From this we emerge upon a precipitous 
 descent of great slippery rocks, passing by fearful 
 gulfs of unknown depth, where a single bar of wood 
 makes a pretence of protection, down and still down, 
 over and round the great boulders, leading at 
 length to a modified pale glimmer of daylight, 
 reached by an almost perpendicular fall of rocks 
 and sliding stones, we come to the chapel and cell 
 of the saintly hermit, St. Gregory. The cavern is 
 open on one side towards the chasm. 
 
 The little chapel had been decorated with wall- 
 paintings, still slightly visible, and we could clearly 
 make out the position of the screen and the sanc¬ 
 tuary. On one side we see the hermitage where St. 
 Gregory lived for five-and-twenty years. It contains 
 a rough stove and cooking-place. The peasants, we 
 are told, maintained him by bringing food to the 
 entrance of the cavern : as M. Vassiliou justly 
 
st, Gregory’s hermitage. 
 
 287 
 
 remarked, the approaches at that time must have 
 been more practicable than at present. 
 
 After a short pause we go on through more cavern 
 galleries to reach a very small round pool in the rock, 
 always full of clear, delicious water. The source of 
 this natural well is unknown; the opening may be 
 about three feet in diameter. Then by more lateral 
 passages we grope our way along, feebly lighted by 
 the lantern and the slender tapers, which drip con¬ 
 siderably in the stifling atmosphere, and are burning 
 low. It occurs to us with a shudder that it would be 
 decidedly unpleasant to' be plunged in obscurity in 
 this weird, sepulchral 'place. Hundreds of bats roused 
 by the glimmering light are flying about distractedly; 
 masses of them cling to the dripping roof; they knock 
 against us in. their flitting, angular course until we 
 reach a second tiny rock chapel, smaller than the first, 
 but with still more evident remains of wall painting. 
 
 As we turn towards the exit we are led through 
 other passages by what proves to be an easier way, 
 till with one or two sharp squeezes the iron door is 
 reached. We breathe once more in the free outer air, 
 and sit to rest on the rickety- ladder to restore our 
 equilibrium, for the intense heat of the cave with 
 alternations of damp chills had been decidedly trying, 
 
288 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 and the warm clear sunshine was very welcome. 
 Near to this is a wonderfully beautiful subject for 
 a sketch ; the dark leafy abyss out of which rises 
 a lofty, abrupt, tree-clad peak, crowned at its very 
 summit by a tiny chapel, dazzlingly white against the 
 pale gray distances seen in the cleft of the gorge; 
 but the exhaustion of the expedition had left no 
 strength for more than languid though very real 
 appreciation. 
 
 This is a wild part of the Carpathians. It must be 
 rather terrible in winter, for even in full summer 
 season, ‘ only a few weeks since,’ said M. Yassiliou, 
 
 ‘ the wolves had come down to the outbuildings of 
 the place and devoured a young horse.’ 
 
 We return as we had come; the various ‘bad 
 passages ’ seeming less frightful than on a first 
 acquaintance, as the extent of the risk was now 
 known. 
 
 Gliko, water, and coffee, offered by our polite and 
 helpful friend of the previous day, M. Dimitrescu, 
 did much to restore strength for the rather long 
 journey that lay before us, although by the advice 
 of these two gentlemen it was decided not to return 
 to Rimnik, but to stop for the night at a place called 
 Bolbeni, one hour nearer to our destination than 
 
A FRESH DISAPPOINTMENT. 
 
 289 
 
 the unattractive town which we had no desire to 
 revisit. 
 
 ■ It was a long drive back; for the poor weary horses, 
 notwithstanding their long rest, seemed quite unequal 
 to their light task. We stopped the carriage about 
 half-way to take a last sketch of this part of the Car¬ 
 pathians ; of the grand outline of Mount Biela, with 
 three crosses in the foreground, and a group of women 
 spinning and gazing from a grassy rise on the left hand. 
 
 On reaching Bolbeni we find that the village is at 
 some distance from the railway-station, but we push 
 on, anxious for the promised rest in the good rooms 
 recommended by our Bistritza friends—-to meet a 
 fresh disappointment; the rooms had just been 
 engaged by a family who were expected in an hour 
 or two. What can we do but accept as the only 
 possible arrangement, the room occupied by the 
 master of the house, his young wife and baby ? We 
 bend to circumstances, and hope for the best; but oh, 
 that best!-—it did not come upon us at once in all 
 its restless, sleepless aggravation; we are prepared 
 gradually. First by an interminable waiting for 
 some sort of supper (we had scarcely eaten since 
 leaving Horezu in the morning), but we sit bland 
 and patient on the narrow wooden balcony, and 
 watch the arrival of the ox-carts bringing the 
 
290 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 luggage of those ill-advised neighbours who are to 
 occupy our promised rooms. There is a great deal 
 of luggage—two cart-loads at least; they are to 
 remain for the night in the untidy, littered farm¬ 
 yard, and leave at sunrise. The oxen and buffaloes 
 are unyoked; they lie about and munch their poor 
 food, and as the sun lowers the cows begin to wander 
 in at the wide open gate—a cow or two, then the 
 black, ungainly buffaloes. Some yoke of oxen with 
 empty carts come rattling in, the driver standing, 
 followed by a stampede of black pigs, little and big, 
 rushing, grunting, in a frantic hurry, their curly tails 
 in the air, evidently late for an appointment, and 
 keenly eager to make up for lost time; the quacking 
 geese waddling solemnly in to join the ducks and 
 fowls already sprinkled all about, complete the chorus 
 of the farm-yard. Presently all are sent screaming 
 and flying by the arrival of the expected guests in a 
 large open carriage with children, nurses, and servants. 
 All these have to be supplied with supper before our 
 table can be spread, but c everything comes at length 
 to him who can wait,’ so in the cool gloom of the 
 evening they spread at length our festive board; it 
 is laid upon trestles in a corner of the yard happily 
 removed from the spreading horns of the oxen and 
 the domains of the pigs. 
 
THE HOST AND HOSTESS. 
 
 291 
 
 The proprietor is a fine-looking young peasant, 
 his dean linen embroidered shirt well drawn in at 
 the waist by the broad leather belt; the wife, pretty, 
 fair-haired, and slender, flits about in answer to the 
 repeated calls for £ Fiorina.’ She is in full costume, 
 very graceful, very picturesque. We will make the 
 most of that softening feature of our temporary trials, 
 and dropping a discreet veil over the tortures of 
 the ensuing night, awake from troubled sleep to the 
 joyful perception that Florica is bringing into our 
 room the metal washhand-basin of the establishment! 
 —which, with many other small comforts, had been 
 pre-engaged by the family that had left, as pro¬ 
 mised, with the dawn. But we also . are anxious 
 to leave, and are delayed until almost too late by 
 the dilitoriness of the ‘ fine young man ’ to hand 
 over the bill to our interpreter. Poor Bar was 
 furious at what he called a gross overcharge, but 
 we were only too thankful to set off in the clear 
 fresh morning air. It is a small wicker cart into 
 which we are heaved ; a box is strapped on some¬ 
 where behind, and, as usual, all our bags and baskets 
 sway wildly. We nearly all bounce out together 
 as the cart jumps and bounds over the ruts and 
 rough places, but holding on with desperation 
 
292 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 we manage to lose nothing, although trembling at 
 the prospect of crossing the line to reach the 
 station, the train being almost in sight. It had to 
 be done, however; the driver looks constantly over 
 his shoulder, the movement always followed by a 
 fresh cut at the already galloping horse. A start, 
 a plunge, a sway to one side—a gasp; we cross the 
 rails and reach before the train, though we thought 
 to have distinctly heard the thud of the engine. 
 
 This was the last excursion of our journey, and 
 by a curious coincidence this visit to the Wallachian 
 Bistritza happened on the same day as that on which 
 three years previously we had met with an adventurous 
 experience on the river Bistritza in Moldavia. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 A SKETCH OF ROUMANIAN HISTORY, AND OF THE 
 TIMES OF THE VOIVODES . 1 
 
 Decebalus and Trajan—Roman Colonists in Dacia—They retire 
 beyond the Carpathians—Inroads of Barbarians during several 
 Centuries—Radu Negru founds the Principality of Wallachia 
 —Bogdan Dragosch founds the Principality of Moldavia— 
 Legend of Molda—-Mircea I., his uncertain Alliances—Alex¬ 
 ander the Good a Benefactor of Moldavia—Stephen the Great 
 —Movila—Treaties with the Ottoman Power—Vlad the 
 Impaler—His Cruelties—Rodolph IV. —The Patriarch ISTiphon 
 -—Religious Reforms—Negoe I.—His Beneficial Rule—Re¬ 
 builds the Cathedral of Arjesch—Commercial Prosperity of 
 Roumania—Michael the Brave—Defeat of the Turks—The 
 Bridge of Giurgevo—Michael’s Successes in Transylvania— 
 Unites the Principalities under one Rule—His Triumphs and 
 Reverses—His Death—Matthew Basaraba and Vasili Lupu— 
 Serban II., Cantacuzene—Constantine Basaraba Brancovano— 
 His Cruel Death—Fate of his Family—Stephen Cantacuzene, 
 the last of the Native Princes. 
 
 The country now known as Ronmania was little 
 
 mentioned in history until the end of the first century 
 
 1 I am indebted for most of the information, contained in these 
 pages to the kindness of the learned Minister of Public Instruction, 
 M. Dimitri Stourdza, and to the following works— 
 
 ‘Moldavia and Wallachia,’ Wilkinson; ‘Ronmania, Past and 
 Present,’ Samuelson ; ‘ Anthology,’ Stanley of Alderley ; ‘ Bal¬ 
 lades et Chants Populaires,’ V. Alecsandri ; ‘ Provinces Rou- 
 manies,’ Ubicini ; ‘ Rapports du Comte de Langeron ’; ‘ Curtea de 
 Arges,’ Tocilescu ; ‘ Istoria Romaniloru,’ Secareanu ; ‘ Sinaia, ’ 
 Jeromonah Nifon ; ‘ Die Stadt Kronstadt,’ Filtsch. 
 
294 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 of the Christian era, when Decebalus—having 1 united 
 into one body three or four tribes—became King of 
 Dacia, which included—besides the Danubian pro¬ 
 vinces—Bessarabia, Transylvania, and the Bucovine. 
 
 Not long afterwards the Emperor Domitian, en¬ 
 deavouring to punish the Dacians for their frequent 
 inroads into Roman territory, v r as repulsed, and obliged 
 to pay a tribute under the softening name of a 
 pension. This w 7 as continued until the year 102 (a.d.), 
 when Trajan declared his resolution to withhold pay¬ 
 ment ; he drove back the invading hordes, and after 
 forcing Decebalus to acknowledge himself a vassal of 
 the Roman empire, returned to Rome in triumph. 
 
 Decebalus, eager to shake off the yoke, made war 
 on a tributary of Rome; Trajan advanced once more 
 to the Danube, and, in the interval of waiting for a 
 propitious season, caused his famous bridge to be 
 built, under the direction of the architect Apollodorus 1 
 of Damascus—a stupendous work, some remains of 
 which are at the present time still visible when the 
 waters of the Danube are low. 
 
 In the spring the Roman army marched once more 
 
 1 It was this same Apollodorus who raised in 113 the well-known 
 ‘ Trajan’s Column ’ in Eome, where the victories of this Emperor 
 over the Dacians are represented. 
 
THE KOMANS IN DACIA. 
 
 295 
 
 against Decebalus, who was conquered,, and killed 
 himself to avoid falling alive into the enemy’s hands. 
 
 The Roman legions were established as colonists 
 in Dacia about the year 107 a.d., and Trajan sought 
 to re-people his new province by founding cities, the 
 most important being Oaracalla (in Wallachia), Roman 
 (in Moldavia), Caput Bovis at the mouth of the 
 Sereth, and Mehadia, best known as the Hercules 
 Baths; some attribute to Trajan the foundation of 
 Jassy. He made also the celebrated road by the 
 Danube, where the marks of the great supports that 
 carried this highway along the wall of rock that 
 bounds the river on the north can be traced for a 
 considerable distance; this road, which began in 
 Bessarabia, continued as far as the Iron Gates near 
 Orsova. The remains of another Roman Way are 
 still visible in Wallachia, beginning at Caracal!a, a 
 few miles from the junction of the river Oltu with 
 the Danube; it follows upwards the course of the 
 first-named river as far as the Carpathians, and. is 
 thought to have led to the Dacian capital, Zarmiss 
 (or Sarmizoegethusa), 1 now a town of Transylvania, 
 that contains some vestiges of antiquity. 
 
 1 The ancient capital, Sarmizoegethusa, is to-day a simple village 
 called Yarhely ; the .little town of Hacseg is in the neighbourhood. 
 
296 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN EOUMANIA. 
 
 After this period the countiy, during some cen¬ 
 turies, was overrun by successive hordes of barbarians 
 from the north and east, before whom the Daco- 
 Roman colonists fled into the Carpathian mountains. 
 In 361 the Goths had taken almost exclusive posses¬ 
 sion of the province ; early in the century Christianity 
 had been introduced among them, and they had 
 been represented at the Council of Nicsea; later, 
 Ulphilas, called the Apostle of the Goths, preached 
 the gospel in Dacia, since which time it has never 
 ceased to predominate. 
 
 During the fourth, fifth, and sixth centuries, the 
 Huns, the Gepidoe, the Lombards, the Avars, held 
 alternately possession of the country, until conquered 
 by the Franks and the Bulgarians. The Avars (also 
 called White Huns) were of Scythian extraction; 
 the Szeklers, a numerous tribe now inhabiting the 
 eastern corner of Transylvania, claim to be descend¬ 
 ants of this race. 
 
 The natives, treated as slaves by these barbarians, 
 retired in great numbers still further beyond the 
 Carpathians, where they retained their nationality—■ 
 sometimes tributary to Hungary, at others under 
 independent leaders; chiefly, in the later period, 
 under the rule of the powerful family of Bassaraba, 
 
RADIT NEGRXT. 
 
 297 
 
 who bore the title of 4 Domnu ’ (from, the Latin 
 ‘Dominus’). They were first known as Lords of 
 Fagarash, and afterwards were styled 4 Domnulu 
 Munteniel ’ from Munte = the Mountains (the Car¬ 
 pathians), where for several hundred years the 
 descendants of the Daco-Roman colonists had pre¬ 
 served their independence. 
 
 In the first years of the thirteenth century Alex¬ 
 andra Bassaraba, a powerful lord of what was then 
 also called £ Terii Romanesci,’ claimed dominion over 
 the whole country extending between the Carpathians, 
 the Oltu, and the Danube (now known as Little 
 Wallachia) ; but it was not until the time of his 
 son Radu—when at length a period of rest came to 
 the land, after the terrible Tartar invasion, led by 
 Genghiz Khan, had spent itself—that, about the 
 middle of the century, Radu Negru Bassaraba 
 (Rodolph the Black) descended with his tribe into 
 the plains, and established his rule, first, at Campu- 
 lung on the southern slopes of the mountains, and 
 afterwards at Curtea d’Argesch. He built at Campu- 
 lung a castle and a church. His full-length portrait 
 on a wall of this church may be seen to this day; the 
 inscription runs thus, £ Great Radu Negru Voivode, 
 first of the descending Lords of the Roumanian 
 
298 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 Land.’ From this period dates the foundation of the 
 Principality of Wallachia. 
 
 This Eadu founded several monasteries, the most 
 remarkable being Curtea d’Argesch, Campu-lung, and 
 Tismana, near the southern frontier of Transylvania ; 
 this is said to be one of the finest remains of the 
 work of the Middle Ages in Wallachia, and the grotto 
 and tomb of St. Nicodemus, the adviser and friend of 
 Eadu Negru, may still be seen there. 
 
 During the latter part of his life Eadu raised 
 another city, distant about thirty miles south-west 
 of Campu-lung, on the borders of the river Argesch; 
 he gave it the name of Curtea d’Argesch, and resided 
 there occasionally. He also built there the monastery 
 and church above mentioned, which two hundred 
 years afterwards one of the Voivodes rebuilt and 
 embellished most magnificently, ‘ a monument of 
 which Wallachia may well be proud.’ 
 
 The successors of Eadu Negru transferred the 
 capital from Argesch to Tirgoviste, and finally to 
 Bukurest. 
 
 About fifty years after the foundation of the 
 Principality of Wallachia, Bogdan Dragosch, the 
 chieftain of another tribe of mountaineers—the Mara- 
 musch—seeing the flourishing condition of the new 
 
LEGEND OF MOLDA. 
 
 299 
 
 state under the Basarabas, rose against the Hun¬ 
 garians, to whom he was tributary, and descended 
 also towards the plains with his followers, to join 
 a part of the same tribe of Maramusch, previously 
 settled in the lands bordering the Eastern Carpa¬ 
 thians. Bogdan became the recognized Domnu of 
 the new Principality of Moldavia, and fixed his 
 capital at Suciawa. 
 
 The name Moldavia has a legendary origin. In some 
 official French reports, dated more than a hundred 
 years back, we find it said that £ it is not possible to 
 learn with certitude the name given to Moldavia in 
 remote times. This province is called after the river 
 Moldova, which rises in the Bucovine,’ and flows into 
 the Sereth at Eoman; but tradition asserts that 
 Bogdan, the prince of the country, who was passion¬ 
 ately fond of the chase, had a dog named Molda, his 
 favourite above all the dogs of his pack. One day 
 Molda was chasing a buffalo with so much ardour 
 that she forced it into the river, and was drowned 
 herself in the hot pursuit. Bogdan, deeply afflicted 
 at the loss of his favourite, returned constantly to the 
 scene of the catastrophe, and, pausing on the brink 
 of the river, pointed out to his followers the spot 
 where Molda had perished. The name of the stream 
 
300 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 was thus unconsciously connected with the name of 
 the lost dog, and shortly afterwards became that of 
 the province. But to return to the chase that had 
 ended so disastrously for poor Molda. The huntsmen 
 had continued to pursue the buffalo, and, overtaking 
 the animal, cut off its head, which they fixed above 
 the entry of Bogdan’s palace; since that time the 
 princes of Moldavia show a buffalo’s head in their 
 coat of arms’ (Odobescu). 
 
 The Principality of Moldavia was founded within 
 a few years of the conquest of Broussa by the Turks, 
 under Osman and Orkhan, from which event dates 
 the foundation of the Ottoman Empire. Moldavia 
 is still spoken of in Turkish as ‘ Bogdan memlekety ’ 
 (the country of Bogdan). 
 
 In neither principality was the Voivodate hered¬ 
 itary ; it sometimes passed from father to son, but 
 the candidate was obliged to go through the formality 
 of being elected by the chiefs of the state; at a later 
 period they were nominated by the Ottoman Sultans, 
 which may in part account for the amazing list of 
 Voivodes, Ilospodars, and Princes who governed 
 Roumania between the years a.d. 1292 to 1849— 
 six and a half centuries. 
 
 In Moldavia we count in that period one hundred 
 
EARLY RULERS OP WALLACHIA. 
 
 301 
 
 and nineteen rulers, some of them enthroned and 
 dethroned two, three, and four times; we must also 
 deduct from the calculation of time eighteen years of 
 interregnum, during repeated £ occupations ’ of the 
 country, principally by Russia. 
 
 Wallachia, dating from 1241, spreads a smaller list 
 of rulers over a longer period, counting only one 
 hundred and five; in one or two instances the prin¬ 
 cipalities have for a very limited time been united 
 under one rule. 
 
 There are amongst those old Voivodes some whose 
 name and memory still linger in the minds and the 
 legendary lore of the people, either softened by a halo 
 of good deeds and beneficent legislature, or darkened 
 by the horror of such acts of cruelty as make it hard 
 to believe that Christianity could be so foully stained. 
 A very slight glance at the most remarkable of these 
 characters will suffice to give some idea (all that I 
 can pretend to offer) of the earlier history of the now 
 consolidated kingdom of Roumania. 
 
 Mircea 1., a son of Radu Negru, is-—after the 
 founder of the Principality—the first name to 
 attract notice: in his time the Turks made their 
 appearance on the north of the Danube, and Mircea, 
 uniting his forces with those of the Servians, resisted 
 
302 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 the invasion, which was headed by Amurath I., who 
 fell, stabbed in his tent, after a hard-fought victory 
 gained at Cossova. Many struggles ensued, with 
 varied results, until a treaty of peace was concluded 
 with the son of Amurath, Bajazet I. (Yilderim), in 
 1393, agreeing to a tribute as ‘a simple treaty of 
 protection, which does not affect the sovereign rights 
 of the Voivode.’ 
 
 Two years later Mircea, changing sides, unites 
 with Sigismund, King of Hungary, then at war with 
 Bajazet; he takes part in the battle of Nicopolis. 
 For this decisive campaign the King of Hungary had 
 called upon all the Christian princes to join his 
 standard, and force the Mussulman out of Europe. 
 The Teutonic knights, the Knights of St. John, the 
 Styrians, the Bavarians, many thousand Frenchmen, 
 drew together as to a festival. . . . The Wallachians 
 and Moldavians also joined this crusade, but after the 
 defeat of the French and the Hungarians, Mircea, 
 betraying the Christian cause, turned once more and 
 joined the Turks, which action decided the victory 
 for Bajazet. After this Mircea, aided by the Princes 
 of Ardealu and Moldavia, overthrew Sigismund, 
 abandoned the Turkish side, and refused the payment 
 of the tribute. Bajazet, advancing to punish this 
 
REIGN OF MIRCEA. 
 
 303 
 
 false friend and untrustworthy ruler, passes the 
 Danube, but failing in his object, retreats, and not 
 long afterwards is taken prisoner by Tamerlane. In 
 1416 a son and successor of Bajazet, Mahomet I., 
 passed the Danube once more, and forced the pay¬ 
 ment of the tribute from the Wallachians, exacting at 
 the same time additional rights and privileges in the 
 Ottoman interest. Mircea did not long survive his 
 defeat and humiliation; he died in 1418. 
 
 The reign of Mircea occupies an important place in 
 the history of Wallachia, as it is from that period 
 that the domination of the Ottoman power over a 
 great portion of the Roumanian population must be 
 dated. Notwithstanding his great political errors 
 with regard to the Turks, and his treacherous betrayal 
 of his allies, Mircea was regretted by his people. 
 Bukurest owed its rise into importance to this 
 Voivode; he moved thither the residence of the 
 Court from the more ancient capital, Tirgoviste, but 
 endowed both places with churches and religious 
 institutions. Mircea built in 1383 the monastery 
 of Cozia, not far north of Kimpu-lung, where his 
 portrait, in the dress of a Crusader, is still visible. 
 Some remains of the castle of Mircea are said to exist 
 at Tirgoviste. 
 
304 
 
 UNTRODDEN TATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 The principal claims of Mircea to the gratitude of 
 his subjects lay in his reforms of the administration 
 and of the army. He established in Wallachia a 
 thoroughly organized military body, fixed the number 
 of the troops, their uniform, and their pay; we find 
 it stated that ‘ Wallachia was one of the first Euro¬ 
 pean states to possess a permanent army,’ and that 
 ‘ war without anarchy was the normal state of the 
 country’ (Vaillant). 
 
 In Moldavia we read of Alexander the Good (Alex¬ 
 andra celu Bunu), Voivode in the beginning of the 
 fifteenth century. ‘ This prince, who was under the 
 protection of Poland, knew how to avail himself of 
 a time of peace; he established order in the finances, 
 founded bishoprics and monasteries, settled the affairs 
 of the clergy, organized regular tribunals, and opened 
 schools of law, science, and languages.’ 
 
 At this time the Tsiganes, or gipsies, first made 
 their appearance in the Principalities; it is not 
 known how or at what period they fell into a state 
 of slavery. In 1418 Alexander permitted three 
 thousand Armenian families to establish themselves 
 in Suciawa, his capital, and in five other of the 
 principal towns. 
 
 Alexander the Good was married (a second time) 
 
STEPHEN THE GREAT. 
 
 305 
 
 to Ringala, a sister of Ladislas, King of Poland, and 
 not long afterwards received from the Emperor of 
 Constantinople tlie Patriarchal Mitre for the Metro¬ 
 politan, and for himself the crown and title of king. 
 
 Alexander died in 1432, and was buried beside bis 
 first wife, Ana, in the beautiful monastic church of 
 Bistritza, near Piatra, where the tomb may be seen in 
 good preservation. ‘ The life of Alexander the Good 
 was less remarkable for warlike enterprises than for 
 the benefits which he conferred upon his country 
 during a reign of more than thirty years ; he was the 
 father rather than the master of his people ; he raised 
 Moldavia greatly in renown, and infused amongst 
 the population religious and patriotic sentiments’ 
 (Ubicini). 
 
 Stephen the Great (Stefaun celu Mare) is another 
 prominent character in Moldavian annals. His whole 
 life was spent in wars; he is the national hero, suffer¬ 
 ing some severe defeats, and gaining several brilliant 
 victories; but these were too often stained by terrible 
 cruelties. And if, as popular tradition asserts, he was 
 forty times victorious, and in consequence founded 
 forty churches, surely a large number of these founda¬ 
 tions must have been acts of penitence and expiation. 
 
 Endeavouring to stem the flood of a Tartar invasion, 
 
306 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN EOUMANIA. 
 
 Stephen gave battle to the enemy at Liepnitz, 
 and took prisoner the son of the Khan, who was 
 afterwards claimed by his father; but the Voivode 
 caused the young man’s head to be struck off in the 
 presence of the delegates who had come to treat for 
 his deliverance; and in order to further illustrate his 
 hatred of the infidel, Stephen ordered the unhappy 
 messengers to be impaled, sparing one only, whose 
 nose and ears were cut off, and he was thus sent back 
 to carry the tidings of the tragedy to his master ! . . . 
 Shortly afterwards Stephen founded the monastery of 
 Putna! 
 
 Again (Stephen was pious !), after a great victory 
 gained over the Ottomans, ‘ in order to render thanks 
 to the God of armies,’ he built a church, ordered a 
 fast of forty days, and . . . impaled all Ins prisoners l 
 
 The account of Stephen’s resistance to the Turkish 
 invasion in 1484, which was strengthened on this 
 occasion by the Wallachians, is too well known to 
 need repetition, were it not connected with the 
 beautifully situated and still interesting ruins of 
 Niamtz. In the first encounter Stephen had been 
 unsuccessful, and retiring to Upper Moldavia, drew 
 near to the citadel of Niamtz ; but at the great gate 
 of the castle he hears a voice from the ramparts, 
 
A LIVING MOLE-HILL. 
 
 307 
 
 commanding, ‘ Do not open! that is not my son! ’ 
 It is his mother’s voice. She orders him to retrace 
 his steps, and to have at least the courage to die 
 if the strength to conquer fails. ‘ Hast thou for¬ 
 gotten that I am thy mother ? ’ The name of this 
 mother of more than Roman fortitude has not been 
 handed down, but the bitter words aroused Stephen 
 to a renewed effort. Collecting the scattered remnants 
 of his army, he fell upon the invaders in a narrow 
 valley with such overwhelming impetuosity, that 
 they were driven back and almost exterminated : a 
 small number of horsemen only escaping, out of a 
 force of thirty thousand men. 
 
 In I486, Stephen, while engaged in a struggle 
 with the Hungarians in the plains of Roman, fell 
 in the battle with his horse killed under him. One 
 of his heralds, named Purice, raised the Prince and 
 offered his own horse. The chronicle continues— 
 ‘ The horse being very high and Stephen a small 
 man, Purice, kneeling, said to him, “ My lord, suffer 
 me to serve as a mole-hill,” and placing Stephen’s 
 foot on his shoulder, he helped him into the saddle. 
 “ Mole-hill! ” said Stephen, “ I will make of thee a 
 mountain.” After the victory he called Purice to 
 his presence, in Suciawa, and before all his Court. 
 
308 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 “Purice,” said lie, “thou hast served me as a mole¬ 
 hill. I shall call thee Movila (little mountain). Thou 
 shalt hear no other name. Thou gavest me thy 
 horse. I confer on thee five domains,” ’ &c. &c.—in 
 the style of a fairy tale. But such is the origin of 
 the family of Movila, which one hundred years later 
 reigned over the Moldavians. 
 
 Stephen’s qualities as a legislator, his administra¬ 
 tive capacity, and his great political foresight, merit 
 the title of ‘ Great,’ rather than his incessant and 
 bloody wars. In times of peace he opened schools, 
 encouraged commerce, erected many public buildings, 
 and greatly increased the prosperity of Moldavia. He 
 had passed the greater part of his life in resistance 
 of the Turks, yet on his deathbed he foresaw how 
 vain would be that protracted struggle with the ever 
 increasing power and strength of the Ottomans; and, 
 calling around him, in Suciawa, the nobles of the 
 Principality, with the Metropolitan, he recommended 
 to them his son Bogdan as his successor, charging 
 him solemnly, for the safety and prosperity of the 
 country, to make a treaty of peace and friendship 
 with their great Mussulman neighbour. 
 
 About eight years after the death of Stephen 
 this treaty was concluded (in 1511) between Bogdan 
 
VLAD THE IMPALER. 
 
 309 
 
 and Sultan Selim. The tribute was at first called 
 a ‘backshish’ or present. 
 
 From 1602 this tribute was no longer called a 
 present, and its amount was increased at each new 
 appointment of a Voivode by the Sultans, an 
 additional reason for the extremely long list of 
 Voivodes, and their frequent re-election. 
 
 The treaty was in all essential points the same 
 as that concluded in Wallachia, fifty years previously. 
 But it added the stipulation that no Mussulman should 
 be allowed to settle in the country. 
 
 These treaties continued in force (with some inter¬ 
 ruptions) until the Russian War, in 1877, gave 
 Roumania the long-desired opportunity of declaring 
 her independence. 
 
 In Wallachia, the contemporary of Stephen was 
 Vlad ‘the Impaler,’ a hideous distinction, that indicates 
 but faintly the unimaginable cruelties with which he 
 thought to awe and to arrest even the fierce and 
 unscrupulous Ottoman invaders. 
 
 Vlad seized the throne in 1456, and began by 
 making a treaty with Mahomet II., which was very 
 advantageous for Wallachia. He soon broke it, how¬ 
 ever, and the following year concluded an alliance 
 with Matthias Corvinus of Hungary. Mahomet, 
 
310 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 flushed with liis recent conquest of Constantinople, 
 ordered Hamsa Pasha, the Governor of Widdin, 
 to arrest the faithless Voivode by force or by 
 stratagem. But the unfortunate Pasha falls, with 
 his secretary, into an ambush. Vlad orders their 
 legs and arms to be cut off, and they are thus 
 impaled; the Governor, out of deference to his rank, 
 on a higher stake than his secretary. Then the 
 Voivode crosses the Danube, enters Bulgaria, burns 
 towns and villages, and carries back as prisoners 
 twenty-five thousand of the inhabitants. These 
 miserable victims were all impaled around the corpse 
 of Hamsa Pasha. 
 
 At the news of this diabolical crime, Mahomet, 
 in a transport of anger, assembles an army of two 
 hundred and fifty thousand men, and while his 
 Grand Vezir marches overland towards the Danube, 
 the Sultan with a considerable fleet mounts the 
 course of the river as far as Widdin. He hastens 
 towards Bukurest; but on the road is stopped by 
 a fearful spectacle. A forest of stakes, a quarter 
 of a league wide, and the double in length, on which 
 the twenty-five thousand Turks and Bulgarians were 
 crucified and impaled—men, women, and children. 
 In the midst, the body of Hamsa Pasha, dressed in 
 
DEATH OP VLAD. 
 
 311 
 
 silk and brilliant robes. ‘ How ? ’ cried Mahomet, 
 appalled,— £ how can I despoil a man of his Princi¬ 
 pality who does not even recoil from such means to 
 save it! However,’ added he, thoughtfully, ‘ if there 
 is some grandeur in. such acts, the man who commits 
 them does not merit esteem! ’ 
 
 After this, Wallachia enjoyed comparative peace 
 during fourteen years, for Vlad, fallen into the power 
 of the King of Hungary, is kept during that time a 
 prisoner at Buda. He returns to his native country, 
 and once more governs it during two years, at the 
 end of which time he is murdered by one of his 
 servants, and his head sent to the Turks, who carry 
 it in triumph through the towns and villages. Thus 
 died Vlad the Impaler. £ The nations,’ says a 
 Roumanian writer, £ could not find a surname suffi¬ 
 ciently expressive nor sufficiently infamous by which 
 to curse his memory.’ 
 
 The list of his atrocious cruelties is endless and too 
 saddening for repetition; he destroyed the Tsiganes, 
 who were beginning to overrun the country, with the 
 most fiendish cruelty, and it is truly remarked of this 
 ruler, sometimes called also Vlad the Devil, that he 
 established order by terror. It is rather quaintly 
 reasoned by one writer that the cruelties of Vlad were 
 
312 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 of his century, and that many of his acts had the 
 excuse (!) of religion. Tartars, Turks, and Jews, 
 renegades and pagans, were specimens of humanity 
 that his zeal for the Christian faitli (!) made it his 
 duty to exterminate. He adds, mildly, ‘ But one 
 may well say with Sultan Mahomet that this zealous 
 Christian was not deserving of esteem (!) *—finishing 
 with the admission that, ‘ Allowing for exaggeration ’ 
 (although the chroniclers are unanimous in their 
 statements), ‘ Vlad the Impaler was none the less an 
 execrable and unnatural monster.’ The mixture of 
 devotion and devilry that was certainly a feature 
 of his century, cannot soften or extenuate his 
 crimes. 
 
 Radu or Rodolphe IY. was named by the Sultan 
 Bajazet II. to the vacant dignity of Voivode of 
 Wallachia ; thus, for the first time, the right of free 
 election was taken from the country. Radu was 
 not a warrior; yet his countrymen, after his death, 
 surnamed him the Great (Radu celu Mare), and this 
 epithet arose from the religious reforms, that were 
 accomplished during his reign, the honours of which 
 are due to the celebrated Niphon, Patriarch of Con¬ 
 stantinople. This Patriarch had been imprisoned by 
 Bajazet II., but Radu obtained his pardon, brought 
 
A REVOLUTION IN RELIGION. 313 
 
 him to Wallachia, and gave him full and unlimited 
 powers over all ecclesiastical matters. 
 
 It has been mentioned that two Archbishoprics 
 had been lately instituted in the Principality, but 
 as partisans of the Latin Church they had been 
 received with much reluctance, and at length the 
 Wallachians, in imitation of their Moldavian neigh¬ 
 bours, sent away their Metropolitan, and adopted 
 the Cyrillic letters, to the exclusion of the Latin 
 characters that had been used hitherto. It was a 
 complete revolution. All papers and manuscripts 
 were burnt, so that there remain few historical 
 sources of information written in Latin before that 
 time. The mass was no longer celebrated in Latin 
 or even in Roumanian; the Sclavonic was used, and 
 the greater number of books were written in that 
 tongue, which neither the priests nor the people 
 understood. It was the triumph of fanaticism and 
 ignorance. The Roumanians had come to consider 
 the interruption of their four great fasts as a more 
 deadly sin than assassination ; few amongst them 
 knew either the doctrines or the practice of their 
 religion, and the priest was as ignorant as the 
 peasant. Such was the state of religious matters 
 in Wallachia when Niphon began his reforms, and 
 
314 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 Radu, by his advice, established two bishoprics at 
 Rimnik and at Buzeu. 
 
 The influence of the Greek Patriarch was not, 
 however, limited to the affairs of the Church ; he 
 assisted the Voivode in the beneficial changes brought 
 into the civil administration of Wallachia, which 
 appears during this time to have attained a certain 
 degree of material prosperity. Newly freed from the 
 horrors of the rule of Vlad, the slightest amelioration 
 was hailed by the people with gratitude, and Kadu 
 among his subjects had but one enemy—it was the 
 Patriarch Niphon ! And this was the cause of the 
 quarrel. A Moldavian Boyard, exiled by Stephen 
 the Great, had sought refuge in Wallachia, where 
 Radu, becoming very friendly to him, gave him his 
 sister in marriage. The proscribed man was already 
 married, and the first wife carried her wrongs to the 
 Patriarch, who decreed the rupture of the second and 
 illegal marriage. Radu refusing to consent to the 
 humiliation of his sister, Niphon, to punish this 
 violation of conjugal law, excommunicates the newly- 
 married couple in the metropolitan church in pre¬ 
 sence of the full congregation, after which the 
 Patriarch, exiled by the Voivode, retired to Mount 
 Athos, uttering furious threats against the Wal- 
 
EADU’S UNHAPPY END. 
 
 315 
 
 lachians. A famine, which soon followed these 
 denunciations, seemed to the people a direct chas¬ 
 tisement from heaven. Discord broke out between 
 the nobles and the priests, who stirred up the terror- 
 stricken peasantry, and the unhappy Radu, whose 
 mind became affected by the sight of woes that his 
 fault seemed to have brought down upon Wallachia, 
 gave way to profound melancholy, and expired in 
 fearful torments after fifteen years of a reign, for 
 the most part wisely employed in developing the 
 best institutions of his country. 
 
 From the beginning of the sixteenth century the 
 Sultans had claimed the right of nominating and 
 deposing the rulers of the two Principalities; the 
 tribute paid to the Porte was gradually increased, 
 and many fortresses were occupied by Turkish troops. 
 Several succeeding Voivodes, treacherous, sanguinary, 
 and cruel, left little other record in history, until we 
 come to the remark that c Of all the Voivodes who 
 ruled in Wallachia from the death of Rodolph the 
 Great until the time of Michael the Brave, Peter I. 
 was almost the only governor who lived in peace 
 with his nobility. It has been remarked of him that 
 he killed no Boyard (!). The mildness of his govern¬ 
 ment gained him the surname of Good. His reign 
 
316 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 was but a short respite of three years, and the century 
 is (with one bright exception) little else than a 
 record of the sanguinary struggles in both Princi¬ 
 palities between the Voivodes and the Boyards, and 
 the ever-increasing exactions of the Suzerain power.’ 
 ‘ The Princes sought to destroy, or at least to 
 diminish, the power of the nobles, who defended 
 their privileges energetically; thence arose plots, 
 revolts, civil wars, many assassinations, and much 
 suffering.’ 
 
 But the bright figure in the midst of this sombre 
 picture arises in the form of Neagu or Negoe I. 
 (from 1513 to 1521). He was a pupil of the Patri¬ 
 arch Niphon, and he never forgot the lessons and 
 councils of the ‘ spiritual father ’ who had guided 
 his youth. The poor, the aged, and the orphans 
 were the objects of his care ; he established houses 
 of refuge, where they would be received and main¬ 
 tained at the charge of the State. During his reign 
 he shed benefits on the people who had chosen him 
 for their Prince. It was this Negoe who rebuilt the 
 celebrated cathedral of Curtea d’Argesch, and whose 
 wife, Doarnna Despina, sold her jewels to contribute 
 towards the great cost of the undertaking. 
 
 From the beginning of the century commerce had 
 
COMMERCIAL PROSPERITY. 
 
 317 
 
 become very flourishing in the Principalities, and 
 Genoese, Venetian, Ragusan, and Saxon merchants 
 carried on great commercial enterprises. Braila was 
 at that period one of the most important marts, and 
 the country attained a degree of material prosperity, 
 although much of the traffic even then was conducted 
 through the mod him of the Jews, established in great 
 numbers throughout Roumania. The manners of the 
 people at this period showed a quite patriarchal sim¬ 
 plicity ; luxury was unknown in their dwellings. 
 The houses, built of wood, were small and without 
 ornament; churches and hospitals only were con¬ 
 structed in stone. The rooms were surrounded with 
 wooden benches fixed to the wall, and no other seats 
 were known even in the Palace. 
 
 Science and literature had not as yet penetrated 
 to Wallachia, although the Principality in 1583 was 
 governed by a poet who spoke twelve languages ; 
 this was Peter, with the ridiculous surname of e The 
 Earrings.’ 4 This Prince,’ says M. Kogalnitchano, 
 ‘ could have surrounded himself with wise and talented 
 men if his tyranny had not caused him to be shunned 
 by-all who valued liberty and independence.’ 
 
 Twenty-five years previously, a certain John Vasili 
 had seized by conquest the throne of Moldavia. He 
 
318 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROU MANIA. 
 
 was a man of learning, and after founding a university, 
 brought from Germany and Poland the best professors 
 attainable, and made vain efforts to spread education 
 among his people; but the Boyards, haughty and 
 ignorant, were soon tired of so much learning. They 
 excited the people to revolt, and John Vasili, attacked 
 in his palace, put on the badges of his authority, 
 caused the doors to be thrown open, and calmly 
 awaited the blows of his assassins. He fell pierced 
 by a hundred blows, and the country after his death 
 sank into deeper degradation, until, at the end of the 
 century, the miserable Roumanians almost regretted 
 the tyrannies of Vlad the Impaler. 
 
 It needed a great and brave man to deliver 
 Roumania from this abyss of misfortunes; and 
 Michael the Brave, at the head of the Wallacliians, 
 organized an insurrection against the tyrant, Alex¬ 
 ander Ldpusnano. He failed at first, and, saved 
 almost miraculously from death at the moment of 
 execution, he withdrew to Constantinople, where, 
 through the friendship and influence of the Grand 
 Vezir, Sinan Pasha, and of the English Ambassador, 
 Sir Edward Burton , 1 he obtained the deposition of 
 
 1 The tomb of Sir Edward Burton, in the cemetery of the 
 monastery of Khalki, still exists in perfect preservation. 
 
A SANGUINARY STRUGGLE. 
 
 319 
 
 the tyrant Alexander, and his own nomination to the 
 vacant Yoivodate, after which he returned to Wal- 
 lachia at the head of two thousand Spahis, and under 
 the auspices of that Ottoman power, of which he was 
 to become, soon afterwards, so great and powerful 
 an enemy ; for it was little more than two years later 
 that Michael entered upon a long and sanguinary 
 struggle with the Turks, who were led by his former 
 benefactor, Sinan Pasha; he had formed a league 
 with the Princes of Moldavia and Transylvania, and 
 with the Bulgarians and Servians. The Ottoman 
 troops had advanced, and seizing Bukurest and Tir- 
 goviste, declared Wallachia a Turkish proviuce; the 
 reply to this was a fearful and treacherous massacre 
 of the Mussulmans at Bukurest and at Jassi, and the 
 first great battle resulted in the defeat and almost 
 annihilation of the Turkish army in the plain between 
 the capital and Giurgevo. Tirgoviste was retaken by 
 the Christian forces, and the garrison slaughtered; 
 the ancient capital of Wallachia, burnt and pillaged, 
 never recovered from this disaster. Sinan Pasha 
 was at length defeated, and a horrible carnage ensued 
 on the attempt of the Ottomans to recross the Danube 
 on the (then existing) bridge near Giurgevo ; the 
 bridge broke down under the accumulated weight, 
 
320 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 and thousands of the Turks were drowned. More 
 than seventeen thousand men—says the chronicle— 
 perished on this fatal day. 
 
 During a period of repose, after these crushing 
 defeats of the Ottoman power, Michael endeavoured 
 to encourage his people to sow their fields and rebuild 
 their villages ; Wallachia arose from its ruins, and 
 enjoyed a feeling of security and prosperity which 
 was to he of very short duration. Hostilities 
 recommenced, this time directed by the Voivode 
 against his former allies; he is defeated, and forced 
 to acknowledge the supremacy of Rodolph II., Emperor 
 of Germany, Bohemia, and Hungary. 
 
 In 1599, Michael once more assembles an army, 
 with the intention of invading Transylvania, and 
 with the pretext of assisting the Saxon Protestant 
 colonies, who were suffering persecution. His wife, 
 Florica, endeavours in vain to persuade him of the 
 treachery and ingratitude of his conduct; he crosses 
 the Carpathians, threatens Kronstadt (which town 
 promises strict neutrality), and marches to Herman- 
 stadt. A very magnificent description is given of 
 his triumphal entry into another Transylvanian city, 
 Weissemburg, in which silk, gold, and precious stones 
 figure in profusion. 
 
MURDER OF ANDREAS BATHORY. 
 
 321 
 
 Michael had taken possession of the palace of the 
 Princes of Transylvania, when the chief of a band 
 of Saxon peasants brought him the head of the 
 Cardinal Prince, Andreas Bathory. After his defeat 
 at Hermanstadt, the unhappy man had wandered 
 in the forests, abandoned by all, and these peasants, 
 finding him half-dead with hunger and misery, killed 
 him, and carried the bleeding head as an acceptable 
 present to the conqueror. On seeing it the Princess 
 Florica shed tears. 4 Why this weeping ? ’ questioned 
 the Voivode. ‘Alas!’ replied the Princess, 4 a 
 similar misfortune perhaps menaces even you.’ 
 Michael became thoughtful, some touch of human 
 pity made him cry out — 4 Oh, the poor priest! the 
 unhappy priest! ’ and addressing the murderer — 4 Go, 
 seek thy recompense ! ’ The peasant Ordog turns 
 to obey, and falls dead. The corpse of Bathory, 
 brought from the forest, was laid in a rich coffin, 
 and with pompous funeral ceremonies, in which all 
 the nobles and dignitaries of the Principality, the 
 Wallachian troops, and Michael himself took part, 
 was interred in the church of Weissemburg. 
 
 After these events Michael assumed the chief 
 authority in Moldavia, and thus united—though for 
 a short time—the Roumanian provinces of Wallachia, 
 
322 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 Moldavia, and Transylvania. He dreams of the 
 conquest of Hungary and Poland, but be lias reached 
 tlie limit of his success. The powers whom he menaced 
 formed a strong league against this invader. One 
 year later the Wallachians were completely beaten 
 in Transylvania, and shortly afterwards forced also 
 to evacuate Moldavian territory. 
 
 Michael saw his army annihilated, fled into the 
 Carpathians, and making a last attempt to regain 
 his lost power, at the head of a band of mountaineers, 
 is conquered once more, and takes refuge with his 
 family at the Court of the Emperor at Vienna, where 
 the imposing appearance of the Voivode, and the 
 charms of his daughter, work so well in his favour 
 that he is forgiven, presented with 100,000 ducats, 
 and restored to the government of Transylvania, 
 after a public reconciliation with the Emperor’s 
 lieutenant, Basta. 
 
 Once more Michael, accompanied by Basta, marched 
 to war, and a terrible combat ended with the defeat 
 of Sigismund Bathory, who had for the third time 
 become ruler in Transylvania, in succession to the 
 unhappy Andreas. But this was Michael’s last battle ; 
 the ancient enmity of Basta revived, and by his 
 orders the Voivode was assassinated, and his head 
 
TWO BENEFICENT RULERS. 
 
 323 
 
 cut off, thus fulfilling the prophetic terrors of the 
 Princess Florica. e The Wallachian troops were sent 
 back to their country, and carried with them the 
 head of their Voivode, which was buried in the 
 monastery of Dialloluy, near Tirgoviste, where the 
 monument placed over it at the time, with an inscrip¬ 
 tion alluding to the principal events of his life 
 and to the circumstances of his death—in Sclavonic 
 characters 1 —still exists ’ (Wilkinson). 
 
 In Moldavia, for the space of about forty years, 
 a long list of Voivodes had succeeded each other, 
 without leaving their mark in history either as 
 destroyers or benefactors of their people. Many of 
 these were members of the family of Movila, who 
 had been somewhat curiously named and ennobled by 
 Stephen the Great; but in 1633, Matthew Basaraba, 
 elected by the Boyards Voivode of Wallachia, and 
 Vasili Lupu, equally named to govern Moldavia, have 
 left memories of reforms and civilizing influences that 
 are still cherished in Roumania, although their more 
 peaceful tendencies were frequently interrupted by 
 their wars and mutual struggles for supremacy. 
 
 1 Domna Florica, the wife of Michael the Brave, was buried 
 in the church of Cozia, in the same tomb as Mircea, as the inscrip¬ 
 tion on the tomb shows (Stanley of Alderlev). 
 
324 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 Matthew Basaraba is called the ‘ Civilizer of Rou¬ 
 manian It is said of him that his government was 
 ‘ good and economical, that he was a great politician 
 and a brave general.’ He established schools and 
 libraries; set up printing-presses; and caused the 
 Church books to be translated from Sclavonian into 
 Roumanian; issued a code of laws (published in 
 1652), drawn from the Code of Justinian, and modified 
 by the customs of the country (Wilkinson) ; founded 
 also forty churches, monasteries, and hospitals ; en¬ 
 couraged agriculture, and conferred many other bene¬ 
 fits, ‘ for which patriotic acts the name of Matthew 
 Basaraba holds an honoured place in our national 
 history.’ Matthew Yoda died in 1654, after a reign 
 of twenty-one years, and was buried in one of the 
 monasteries that he had founded—Arnaota, in the 
 district of Rimnik Valcei. 
 
 Vasili Lupu is called ‘ one of the most remarkable 
 princes that have reigned over Moldavia.’ His best 
 claim to honourable remembrance is the publication 
 of a code of laws, and the translation of several Greek 
 books into the Roumanian tongue ; these were printed 
 and issued at Jassi, from the printing-press of the 
 convent of Trei Ierarhi. 
 
 It is evident that the liberal and learned efforts of 
 
TUTORS OF PETER THE GREAT. 
 
 325 
 
 these two Voivodes had already borne fruit, and that 
 education was making progress in their respective 
 provinces. In the same year in which the code of 
 Vasili Lupu was issued, the Czar of Russia, Alexis 
 Michailowitch, called to his Court two young Mol¬ 
 davian students who were already learned linguists ; 
 he first charged them with an important mission to 
 China, and afterwards confided to them the education 
 of his son Peter, known in history as Peter the Great. 
 
 It is sad after this to read that ‘ Vasili Lupu, dis¬ 
 possessed of the throne of Moldavia, fled to Constanti¬ 
 nople, where he died in misery.’ It was this prince 
 who built the beautiful church of the ‘ Three Saints ’ 
 (Trei Ierarhi) in Jassy. 
 
 Serban II. Cantacuzene was named by the Porte 
 Voivode of Wallachia in 1679. His memory is dear 
 to the Wallachians, whom he endeavoured to benefit, 
 and to arouse in them patriotic sentiments. He 
 established the first Wallachian college in Bukurest, 
 improved the printing establishments founded by 
 Matthew Basaraba, and raised intelligent Roumanians 
 to the highest offices in the State. He had the Bible 
 translated into Roumanian, and ordered that the 
 services of the Church should be performed in the 
 national language. He introduced into the country 
 
326 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 the cultivation of Indian wheat, and merited by that 
 act the surname of the £ Providence of the Peasant ’ 
 (in these days the maize is the chief resource and food 
 of the country people). He encouraged commerce, 
 particularly with Transylvania; in his time the 
 Boyards first adopted patronymic names. This 
 worthy prince died of poison administered by his 
 brother Constantine. 
 
 Constantine Basaraba Brancovano, a nephew of 
 Serban Cantacuzene, succeeded him in Wallaehia in 
 1688. It was a period of struggle and warfare 
 between Peter the Great and Charles XII., in which, 
 as usual, Roumania was the greatest sufferer. Bran¬ 
 covano, endeavouring to stand well with both Turks 
 and Russians, was suspected by both parties of in¬ 
 triguing in the enemy’s favour. He had many rivals 
 —and consequently enemies — among the princely 
 families of Cantacuzene, Cantimir, and others, and 
 after a troubled rule of nearly twenty-five years, was 
 deposed and sent with all his family to Constantinople. 
 The manner of his arrest is thus related by Wilkinson 
 —‘In 1714 a Capoudji-BasJti arrived at Bukurest with 
 a suite of one hundred men ; he pretends to have 
 only time to pay the Voivode a short visit, and goes 
 the next day to the palace. The Prince rising to 
 
TORTURE AND EXECUTION. 
 
 327 
 
 receive his visitor, the Capoudji suddenly throws a 
 black handkerchief across his shoulders, conformably 
 to the usual method of announcing deposition to 
 persons high in office in Turkey. The Voivode pro¬ 
 tests violently, and gives way to excessive abuse of 
 the Sultan. The Capoudji places a guard about his 
 person, and proceeding to the Council Chamber, reads 
 aloud a firman which contains the decree of deposi¬ 
 tion. Basaraba was taken from Bukurest with his 
 wife, four sons, three daughters, and a grandson; the 
 whole family was confined in the State prison of the 
 Seven Towers.’ 
 
 His treasures not being found so considerable as 
 had been expected, his sons were put to the torture 
 for three successive days, but this producing no effect, 
 the enraged Sultan ordered them to be beheaded in 
 his presence. They were executed one after the other 
 —the father the last—and the five heads were carried 
 upon pikes about the streets of Constantinople. The 
 bodies were thrown into the sea, but were picked up 
 by some Christian boatmen, conveyed to the Greek 
 monastery at Khalki, and there buried. 
 
 The Princess and the remainder of her family were 
 at first exiled to Kutaya, but eventually returned to 
 Wallachia. The little grandson was saved from the 
 
328 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 massacre by clinging to the dress of the executioner, 
 who besought the pity of the Sultan for the poor infant. 
 
 This Constantine Brancovano was the last ruler of 
 the ancient and illustrious family of Basaraba . 1 In 
 Moldavia the rule of Dimitri Cantemir, a general of 
 Serban Cantacuzkne, had ended a year or two pre¬ 
 viously, by his retirement into private life in Russia, 
 after the Empress Catherine had concluded peace 
 with Turkey. 
 
 To Constantine Brancovano were due several works 
 of public benefit—amongst others the foundation of 
 the hospital forming part of the magnificent group 
 of buildings known as the ‘ Foundation Brancovano ’ 
 in Bukurest; the church of St. George; the monas¬ 
 tery of Dintr ’unu Lemnu, and the beautiful church 
 and monastery of Ilorezu, in the district of Rimnik. 
 
 In this church are full-length portraits of this ill- 
 fated Prince, with those of his wife and their eleven 
 children ; and in the guest-room of the monastery are 
 likenesses of the last of the real family of Brancovano. 
 The name has been continued to the present time 
 through an adopted son. 
 
 1 It may be remarked here, that Bessarabia—which has been 
 tossed like a ball between the conflicting interests of Russia and 
 the Danubian Provinces—owes its name to the ancient family of 
 Basaraba, who included that country among their possessions. 
 
THE LAST OF THE NATIVE PRINCES. 
 
 329 
 
 Stephen Cantacuzene, the enemy and betrayer of 
 Brancovano, was named to succeed him by the Porte ; 
 but his short rule of nineteen months was ended in 
 Constantinople; he was beheaded, together with his 
 brother, and his goods confiscated. His widow with 
 his young children, after having begged their bread 
 in the streets of the Turkish capital, wandered about 
 Europe, and finally reaching St. Petersburg, lived 
 there on the charity of the Czar. 
 
 This Stephen Cantacuzene was the last of the 
 native Princes—‘ Lords of the Roumanian Land.’ 
 In 1711 began the long and disastrous rule of the 
 Phanariot Hospodars (delegates of the Porte); it 
 lasted in both Principalities for more than a century, 
 and is regarded by Roumanians as the most unfor¬ 
 tunate period of their national history. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE PHANARIOTS. 
 
 The Phanar and the Old Greek Families—Their Wealth and Talents 
 —Created Hospodars of Wallachia and Moldavia—A Century 
 of Misrule—Ipsilantis and Yladimiresco—Return of the 
 Native Princes—Russian Occupations—The Principalities 
 united under Prince Couza—Election of Prince Charles of 
 Hohenzollern in 1866—The Kingdom of Roumania consti¬ 
 tuted in 1881—Great Progress in Roumania. 
 
 Slavery and Serfdom—The Gipsies as Slaves from the fifteenth 
 century till the year 1837—Their Final Emancipation in 
 1855—The Origin of Serfdom a charitable custom—It 
 becomes an oppressive Servitude—The Serfs emancipated 
 in 1865. 
 
 The Monasteries—Their Foundation and Endowment—Their 
 ‘ Dedication ’—The ‘ Dedication ’ degenerates from the Ori¬ 
 ginal Intention—Secularization of the Monasteries completed 
 in 1864. 
 
 There is a quarter of Constantinople on the western 
 shore of the Golden Horn called the Phanar, which, 
 from the time of the conquest by the Turks, had 
 been left to the exclusive occupation of the Greek 
 families remaining in the city. It continues still 
 
THE PHANARIOTS. 
 
 331 
 
 to be thus inhabited, and contains the Greek 
 cathedral, the Patriarchate, and some important 
 schools, besides many fine houses of the old Greek 
 families, built in the massive style of the Middle 
 Ages. 
 
 Towards the middle of the seventeenth century 
 a group of about twenty of these families formed 
 a sort of aristocracy, distinguished from the rest of 
 their countrymen by their wealth and talents. It is 
 this remnant of the old Greek nobility who are 
 known to history by the name of Phanariots. 
 Although much of their ancient splendour had 
 passed away, they still preserved a great ascendancy 
 over the mass of the Greek population, and adminis¬ 
 tered all the spiritual and temporal affairs of their 
 people; the members of the Synod as well as the 
 principal dignitaries of the lay clergy were chosen 
 from their body. 
 
 The origin of the power of the Phanariots dates 
 from their employment by the Turks as interpreters 
 for the transaction of political and commercial affairs 
 with foreign nations. The post of ‘ Grand Inter¬ 
 preter of the Porte ’ was created to reward a Greek, 
 a native of Schio, who had rendered great services 
 to the Government. He died in 1673, having 
 
332 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 fulfilled the duties of Ills office with, rare talent 
 and disinterestedness. He had served the Porte 
 zealously and faithfully, but was also on all occasions 
 the defender of the rights of his countrymen. 
 
 About the same time the post of ‘ Interpreter to 
 the Navy ’ was created, and these two offices became 
 thenceforth the exclusive rights of the Phanariots. 
 The group of families at the Plmnar increased in 
 number and wealth, and gradually taking more part 
 in political affairs came to be regarded as a class 
 distinguished from all others, and officially recognized 
 by the Turkish Government. 
 
 The Phanariots, who saw that education was the 
 source of their privileges and of their success, 
 endeavoured to draw to them men of talent and 
 merit; they liberally protected and assisted such of 
 their countrymen as were endeavouring to raise them¬ 
 selves by their culture and knowledge, and learned 
 Greeks flocked to Constantinople as to a centre where 
 talent was secure of recognition and reward. (The 
 same zeal for learning and education animates the 
 Greeks of the present day.) But the crowning success 
 of the Phanariots was reached when they were raised 
 to the dignity of Hospodars of Wallachia and 
 Moldavia, as raias or Christian subjects of the Porte. 
 
ALEXANDER IPSILANTIS. 
 
 333 
 
 The following is stated as £ the result of the 
 government of these Hospodars in the two provinces 
 of Roumania—The misery of the people, the degra¬ 
 dation of the aristocracy, the loss of independence, 
 and the lowering of the national character.’ 
 
 There are a few worthy of notice in the long list 
 of foreign rulers, which continued until 1821. 
 Amongst them, we find Alexander Ipsilantis, £ an 
 honest man who did much good during his reign of 
 eight years in Wallachia, 5 while at the same time 
 Gregory Ghika, in Moldavia, £ endeavoured to im¬ 
 prove and benefit his subjects.’ He (as well as 
 Alexander Ipsilantis) left a name that is remembered 
 with gratitude by the Roumanians, but his devotion 
 to his adopted country cost him his life. He declared 
 against the spoliation of the province conceded by 
 the Sultan to Maria Theresa of Austria ; his com¬ 
 plaints irritated the Turkish Government; he was 
 traitorously secured and beheaded. It is remarked 
 that most of these Hospodars perished by a violent 
 death. 
 
 The country endured much misery, both from the 
 constant change of rulers and from Russian £ occu¬ 
 pations ’ of more or less duration, until the troubled 
 state of Europe in the early years of this century 
 
334 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 ancl the outbreak of the Greek War of Independence 
 gave the Roumanians the long-desired opportunity of 
 casting off the yoke of the Phanariste Hospodars; an 
 opportunity, however, gained by internal troubles and 
 bloodshed. 
 
 A league had been formed by the Greeks, with the 
 aim of liberating their nation entirely from Ottoman 
 rule; it was headed by another Ipsilantis (Con¬ 
 stantine), who had been in the Russian service. He 
 is accused of a cruel massacre of a small Mussulman 
 garrison and of unoffending merchants at Jassi; to 
 have approved of similar atrocities at Galatz, and to 
 have acted generally with great cruelty and oppres¬ 
 sion. He had counted on the support of the 
 Roumanians, but they threatened to turn against 
 him, and soon afterwards, under the leadership of 
 Theodore Vladimiresco, a counter revolution broke 
 out, with the view of restoring the native Princes, 
 under the protection of the Porte, according to the 
 ancient treaties. Vladimiresco was assassinated by 
 order of Ipsilantis and of his party, the Hetairists, in 
 1821, but the aim of his patriotic struggle was sub¬ 
 sequently attained. The Turkish troops entered the 
 Principality, and encountered Ipsilantis and his band 
 at Dragashani near the river Oltu. Ipsilantis watched 
 
A PERIOD OF PEACE. 
 
 335 
 
 the battle, but took no part in it, and seeing that it 
 was turning against them, he fled with his brothers 
 to the monastery of Cozia, and from thence escaped 
 into Austria, where he died the year following. 
 Georgaki, one of his captains who had been concerned 
 in the assassination of Vladimiresco, escaped into 
 Upper Moldavia with the remnant of his troop, and 
 seeing further security impossible, blew himself up, 
 together with these refugees in the monastery of 
 Secu in the Carpathians. 
 
 The distracted land once again found peace— 
 governed after the lapse of more than one hundred 
 years by native princes named by the Porte ; in 
 Wallachia, Prince Gregory Ghika; in Moldavia, 
 Prince John Stourdza. Both of these rulers, during 
 the short intervals of their authority, unfettered by 
 Russian agents, showed themselves zealous for the 
 welfare of the people and for the national interests. 
 Roumania then enjoyed for six years almost unin¬ 
 terrupted peace. The people were unanimous in 
 applauding and endeavouring to assist these beneficial 
 intentions; the country seemed to live again; com¬ 
 merce and agriculture revived ; a sense of security 
 long unknown was beginning to make itself felt, 
 when fresh intrigues and the ever-increasing demands 
 
 O Q 
 
33 6 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 of Russia succeeded in effectually neutralizing all 
 efforts at good government. 
 
 In 1828, Russia declared war with Turkey; her 
 army crossed the Prutli, and soon afterwards a 
 Russian governor was installed at Bukurest. Then 
 the country, not conquered but occupied by Russia, 
 began to suffer incredible hardships. The cattle being 
 all requisitioned for the needs of the army, the 
 land remained uncultivated, and the peasants, reduced 
 to feed on the crushed bark of trees, died miserably 
 of hunger and fatigue ; the roads were strewn with 
 their dead and unburied bodies, for the draught cattle 
 having been exhausted, the oppressors forced the 
 wretched peasantry to supply their place. Many 
 women with their children threw themselves beneath 
 the wheels or into the water to escape this intolerable 
 misery, and three-quarters of the population had 
 perished before peace was signed at Adrianople in 1829. 
 
 The venerable Gregory, Metropolitan of Wallachia, 
 had ventured on complaint and remonstrance ; he was 
 exiled to Bessarabia, where he was detained for five 
 years. Regaining at length his liberty, the unhappy 
 prelate, broken by age and suffering, journeyed back 
 slowly towards his native country, and died a few 
 days after his return to Bukurest. 
 
ELECTION OE PRINCE COIJZA. 
 
 337 
 
 The Russian occupation lasted for six years, at the 
 end of which time it was agreed that the native 
 princes should be restored, and the families, Ghika, 
 Stourdza, Bibesco, and others, enjoyed short periods 
 of power, interrupted by the revolution of 1848 and 
 
 an interregnum, with a Provisional Government, 
 
 * 
 
 followed by a joint occupation of Turks and Russians. 
 
 When the Crimean War broke out in 1853, 
 Roumania became once more a neutralized sufferer, 
 overrun alternately by the troops of the nations 
 engaged i n the struggle; at its close, the autonomy 
 of the Principalities—governed by Caimakams—was 
 declared, under the protectorate of the great Euro¬ 
 pean Powers. This arrangement was of short 
 duration; in the beginning of 1859 the National 
 Assemblies of Jassi and Bukurest agreed to elect 
 Colonel Alexander John Couza as ‘Lord of the 
 United Principalities,’ and three years later Bukurest 
 was declared the capital of the Consolidated State. 
 
 Prince Couza was a reformer, and if his reforms 
 were sometimes too suddenly and too harshly carried 
 out (as in the case of the monasteries), the country 
 owes him much gratitude for efforts to advance educa¬ 
 tion and patriotic feeling, and amongst many other 
 benefits, to open up the country by railways. In all 
 
338 
 
 UNTRODDEN - PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 useful endeavours be was ably seconded by bis wife, 
 tbe Princess Elena, whose asylum for orphan girls— 
 
 ‘ Asilutu Elena Domna ’—remains as an evidence of 
 her charity and beneficence. At tbe present time 
 about three hundred orphans are maintained and 
 educated in this asylum. 
 
 In 18G6 Prince Couza’s rule was abruptly termin¬ 
 ated by a palace intrigue ; he was forced to abdicate, 
 leaving a temporary substitute. lie retired, and nine 
 years later died at Vienna. 
 
 .Meanwhile a Constitutional Assembly had been con¬ 
 voked, and in April, 1866, Prince Charles of Hohenzol- 
 lern was elected to govern the United Principalities* 
 now for the first time officially called Roumania. 
 
 During the Russian invasion of Bulgaria of 1877, 
 Roumanian troops rendered their formidable neigh¬ 
 bours— the Russians — considerable aid, at a time 
 when the despairing bravery and endurance of the 
 Turks had nearly driven the invading forces back 
 across the Danube; this was recognized by the Treaty 
 of Berlin in a manner rather contrary to Roumanian 
 aspirations, by a clause which gave back to Russia 
 the fertile province of Bessarabia (part of the original 
 possessions of the great Basaraba family), and offered 
 to Roumania, in exchange, the Dobrudja. 
 
THE PRINCESS ELIZABETH. 
 
 339 
 
 Daring the continuance of this short though 
 terrible war, the Princess Elizabeth of Roumania, 
 amongst a number of beneficial deeds and enterprises 
 for the benefit of her adopted country, was unre¬ 
 mitting in her tender care of the wounded Turkish 
 prisoners; her noble and self-devoted exertions are 
 yet fresh in the memory of those who were privi¬ 
 leged to assist in this good work; and she has 
 endeared herself to all—foreigners and natives alike 
 —who sincerely desire the prosperity and advance¬ 
 ment of the ‘ kingdom ’ of Roumania, which took its 
 new rank amongst European nations in March, 1881 . 
 
 During the eighteenth century the national 
 language of Roumania, under the Phanariot rule, 
 had fallen into disuse, and was spoken only by the 
 peasantry, although the Roumanians of Transylvania 
 had preserved more faithfully their traditions and 
 idiom. Schools had been opened in every village, 
 and young men selected by the Austrian Government 
 were sent to complete their studies in Italy. A pupil 
 of one of them, George Lazar, brought these educa¬ 
 tional ideas to Bukurest, where in 1816 he opened 
 classes of mathematics and philosophy in the national 
 tongue. In the course of eight years he had formed 
 
340 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 a group of pupils capable of developing his system of 
 instruction throughout the Principalities; one of these 
 pupils was Heliade, a well-known poet and writer. 
 When the Russian occupation was withdrawn in 
 1834, there was a literary revival in both the 
 Principalities. In Wallachia, under Prince Alexander 
 Ghika, the college of St. Sava (on the ruins of the 
 ancient monastery) was founded ; another college 
 opened at Craiova; scholarships were instituted, 
 communal schools opened, and newspapers issued 
 for the first time. In all these good undertakings 
 Ghika was assisted by Heliade and many other 
 patriotic spirits. 
 
 At about the same time in Moldavia another group 
 of iiterary men began to make their influence felt, 
 and to give an impulse to national education; the 
 best-known among these names is that of Vasili 
 Alexandri, who is still to-day the ‘ Poet Laureate ’ 
 of Roumania. During the Revolution of 1848 they 
 framed a constitution full of liberal measures, and 
 we find the name of Constantine Rosetti as one of 
 the patriotic party, and a companion of Heliade. 
 He formed part of the Provisional Government after 
 the departure of Bibescu and Stourdza, and was soon 
 afterwards imprisoned, and subsequently banished, 
 
SLAVERY OF GIPSIES. 
 
 341 
 
 when the Turks, under the orders of Russia, occupied 
 the country for a time. We find in a note the 
 following,—‘ The wife of one of the prisoners, Mme. 
 Rosetti, after praying in vain for permission to 
 accompany her husband and his companions in mis¬ 
 fortune, followed him on foot during thirty days of 
 a season of intense cold, carrying her little daughter, 
 three months old, in her arms.’ The Gabriel Rosetti, 
 whose talents as painter and poet are so much appre¬ 
 ciated by the English public, was a relation of the 
 Roumanian patriot. 
 
 SLAVERY AND SERFDOM. 
 
 Two institutions, or rather two abuses, which must 
 be considered as distinct relics of barbarism, had 
 maintained their hold in the Principalities until quite 
 recent times—the slavery of the Tsiganes (gipsies); 
 and Serfdom. 
 
 The gipsies had wandered into Moldavia in the 
 fifteenth century, during the reign of Alexander 
 the Good. The origin of their servitude is as yet 
 unknown, but until the year 1837 all gipsies settled 
 on an estate were bought and sold with the land 
 as slaves. At that date, under Alexander Ghika, 
 
342 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 the Tsiganes belonging to the State were enfran¬ 
 chised, and some Bo yards gave liberty to their 
 slaves; others sold them. The State Tsiganes num¬ 
 bered four thousand families, and they were liberated, 
 with conditions that secured their maintenance by 
 their own labour. 
 
 The emancipation of the Tsiganes of the monas¬ 
 teries was decreed a few years later, at the same 
 time as the liberation of the serfs of church property 
 and of the government, amidst great popular en¬ 
 thusiasm. This enlightened and humane measure 
 was abolished, with many other attempts at reform, 
 on the arrival of the Russians in the Principalities after 
 the Revolution of 1848. The Tsiganes throughout 
 the country were finally and definitively released from 
 slavery at the time of Prince Gregory Ghika in 1855. 
 
 To-day there are about two hundred thousand of 
 these Tsiganes in Roumania; they are of various 
 classes. Some settled in the poorer quarters of the 
 cities, where they carry on their favourite occupa¬ 
 tions of tinkers, farriers, and blacksmiths; others 
 are wanderers. The most remarkable of this class 
 are the ‘ Lautauri,’ wandering musicians, who attend 
 all festive gatherings, where their wild and touching 
 music is worthv of a more enlightened audience. 
 
ORIGIN OF SERFDOM. 
 
 343 
 
 SERFDOM. 
 
 The serfdom which existed in the Principalities 
 had its orison in a charitable and humane custom, 
 but it quickly degenerated in a cruel tyranny, which 
 became one of the most active causes of the depopula¬ 
 tion and ruin of the country. 
 
 According to one author (Heliade), the £ claca,’ or 
 forced labour, was far from being originally what 
 it afterwards became ; he says— £ From time imme¬ 
 morial there existed in Moldo-Wallachia a charitable 
 custom of assisting the poor, the priest, those 
 attached to the church, the newly-married, all, in 
 short, who were supposed not to possess oxen or 
 horses for the cultivation of their land. On festival 
 days the whole village—men, women, and children 
 —would assemble with their cattle, to till, sow, or 
 reap for the benefit of men or families to whom 
 grants had been made. Of this labour the proprietors 
 of the estates sometimes reaped the benefit, and the 
 kindly custom at length degenerated, for the Rou¬ 
 manian peasantry, into the most odious servitude; 
 the voluntary labour gradually ceased to be optional, 
 and was claimed as a right by the Boyards, until 
 
344 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 a complete and crushing system of serfdom was 
 established. This tyranny lasted for centuries, until, 
 under Prince Couza in 1865, “a complete reform 
 took place in the relations between the landed pro¬ 
 prietors and the peasantry, who were relieved from 
 feudal obligations, and became part owners of the 
 soil.” 
 
 c The peasantry of Roumania were formerly divided 
 into three classes, according to a rather primitive 
 method of rating—those who possessed four beasts 
 of burden and one cow, those who possessed two 
 beasts of burden and one cow, those who had one 
 cow only ! 
 
 ‘ According to an agreement made after the Revo¬ 
 lution of 1848, these peasants, according to their 
 degree of rural wealth, were to receive grants of 
 land, to be paid for in certain cases by so many 
 days’ labour, and a proportion of the harvest and 
 of the hay crop. In 1864 these holdings were 
 converted into freeholds at a fixed price, repayable 
 in fifteen years with interest’ (Samuelson). 
 
 The peasantry of Roumania are therefore now 
 free to cultivate and to benefit by the extraordinary 
 fertility of their native soil, yet there is nothing 
 that so forcibly strikes a traveller (especially in 
 
UNCULTIVATED FERTILE LANDS. 
 
 345 
 
 Moldavia) as the apparent want of field-labourers 
 throughout the country. The rich and teeming earth, 
 glowing with a wild wealth of flowers, is in many 
 parts left to the full enjoyment of its unproductive 
 beauties. The country, watered by innumerable 
 rivers and streamlets, promises the most abundant 
 pasturage, and you learn with amazement the very 
 high price of fodder for the cattle, owing to the 
 want of hands for making and storing the hay. 
 This 1 , they tell us, is a disastrous consequence of 
 the fatal system of serfdom. But that blot on civil¬ 
 ization has been wiped out for nearly a quarter of 
 a century, and there is nothing now to prevent the 
 full development of Roumania’s great natural wealth 
 under an enlightened and encouraging government, 
 but the black and ever-threatening cloud that over¬ 
 shadows its Eastern frontier. Samuelson, writing a 
 few years since, observes, £ It is no exaggeration to 
 say, that the progress which has been effected in 
 this country in twenty-five years has in other 
 European states necessitated one or two centuries.’ 
 Our own experiences, but a few months old, can 
 testify to the daily increase of railway lines and 
 means of communication throughout the country, 
 with the spread of commercial and financial enterprises 
 
346 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 that might, if unfettered, assure and consolidate a 
 happy future for Roumania. 
 
 Ubicini, in a short historical sketch that serves as 
 introduction to Alexandri’s Ballads and Legends , 
 gives a French translation of the Roumanian Song 
 of the Pruth; there is a fierce ring in this note of 
 defiance flung at the eastern boundary river that is 
 not without significance. 
 
 1 Pruth.! accursed river ! 
 
 Mayest thou become wide as a deluge, with tossing waters ; 
 
 That shore may not see shore, 
 
 Nor voice he answered by voice ! 
 
 Neither let glance meet glance 
 Across thy vast expanse ! 
 
 When the locusts shall pass— 
 
 May they drown in mid-stream ! 
 
 When the cholera passes— 
 
 May it sink in thy waves ! 
 
 When the enemies of our country shall pass— 
 
 May they drown on our own shore ! 
 
 And thou Pruth ! glorying in thy broad waters— 
 
 Mayest thou roll them and still roll them onwards ! 
 
 As far as the Danube : 
 
 As far as the sea : 
 
 As far as the gates of hell! ’ 
 
 THE MONASTERIES. 
 
 From the beginning of the sixteenth century, the 
 monasteries throughout the Principalities were pos- 
 
ENDOWMENT OP MONASTERIES. 
 
 347 
 
 sessed of immense wealth, holding in fact one-eighth 
 part of the estates of the country ; the amount of 
 revenue is estimated for Wallachia alone as equal to 
 £140,000, while the convents of Moldavia owned two 
 hundred and thirteen large properties. 
 
 The greater number of these monasteries were 
 founded as evidences of piety, or of penitence, by the 
 old Domni and Voivodes of Wallachia and Moldavia, 
 and by the rich Boyards, wdio endowed them with 
 this wealth, intended not only as a means of carrying 
 out the charitable bequests of the founder, but as a 
 precaution for securing the fortune of the family in 
 those troubled and warlike times. 
 
 The acts of donation were intended to assure daily 
 bread to the poor, hospitality to the traveller, schools 
 for the young, hospitals for the sick, and asylums 
 for the aged, the infirm, and the insane. The con¬ 
 cession also required, that the religious community 
 to whom it was made should assist, if needful, the 
 families and descendants of the founders ; and it was 
 further stipulated, that in case of urgent necessity the 
 monasteries should come to the relief of the State. 
 In many convents a daily distribution of alms was 
 made to a limited number of poor, and sums were 
 
348 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 set apart each year to form dowries for orphan 
 girls. 
 
 The monasteries, once strongly fortified, served as 
 citadels and a means of national defence. During: 
 the troubled and warlike thirteenth, fourteenth, 
 fifteenth, and sixteenth centuries the country was 
 often overrun and desolated. £ It was then,’ says 
 the historian, £ that our fathers sousdit refuse in these 
 same convents that they had piously founded, and 
 where they could continue an energetic defence against 
 the invaders.’ 
 
 The monastic property in Roumania was of two 
 distinct kinds—the one belonging to and applied 
 to the monasteries of the country; the other whose 
 revenues were claimed by Mount Athos, and the 
 other holy places to which the monasteries had been 
 dedicated. This word dedicated is the key to a diffi¬ 
 culty which long agitated this country; and which is 
 still from time to time brought forward by the Greek 
 Church, supported by Russia. A short extract from 
 Ubicini’s work, and from a report published on the 
 subject, may help to a better understanding of this 
 ‘ enigma.’ 
 
 ‘ Von Hammer and other historians are agreed in 
 
RELIGIOUS TOLERATION. 
 
 349 
 
 their estimate of the Turkish character, as dis¬ 
 tinguished by great religious toleration, covering with 
 their protection all forms of worship which are 
 exercised by the various nationalities of their Empire. 
 Even in times when persecutions were directed against 
 Christians, they spared the property of their churches, 
 which they consider as dedicated to God. Thus 
 since the fall of the Lower Empire, Greeks, Arme¬ 
 nians, Albanians, Montenegrins, Bulgarians, and Ser¬ 
 vians, although submitted to the Ottoman yoke, have 
 nevertheless continued the exercise of their Christian 
 faith; very few Christian countries are so tolerant 
 of other forms of worship.’ 
 
 ‘ Influenced by this remarkable fact, and fearing 
 to see the country fall before the growing power of 
 the Ottomans, our ancestors for better security placed 
 the convents which they had themselves founded 
 under the “ protection ” of certain monasteries, that 
 depended on the “ Holy Places ” known and respected 
 by the Turks. They endowed these monasteries 
 nominally with their personal property, reserving, 
 however, the management and enjoyment of their 
 
 revenues.It was thus that many families, 
 
 still existing, succeeded in saving their inheritance 
 
350 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 through all the struggles and calamities that have 
 for centuries desolated their country. The Turks 
 respected these estates, considering them as property 
 annexed to the convents. 
 
 ‘ All the deeds of foundation have clauses which 
 state, that “ after the needs of the convent and of its 
 dependent beneficent institutions shall have been 
 provided for, what may remain shall be sent to the 
 Greek monasteries of the Holy Places, to which such 
 convent may have been dedicated.” 
 
 ‘ Under these acts of dedication the will of the 
 founder was respected until the rise to power of the 
 Phanariot princes. It then gradually degenerated 
 into a material servitude, and the Greeks, governing 
 the Roumanian monasteries through their delegates, 
 were not long in appropriating the whole of the 
 revenues.’ 
 
 In 1634 Mathieu Basaraba restored the force of 
 the old law by an edict, which was renewed twenty 
 years later by his successor. 
 
 During the whole of the eighteenth century this 
 question followed the fluctuations of the political 
 struggle between the Roumanian Boyards and the 
 Phanariots. After the revolution in 1848 the secu- 
 
SECULARIZATION OF MONASTERIES. 
 
 351 
 
 larization of the monasteries was decreed,—their return 
 into the possession of the State,—and in 1864 what 
 remained of the estates was taken out of the 
 hands of the Church and of the monastic establish¬ 
 ments by Prince Couza’s Government. It is this 
 property which forms the present State and Crown 
 domains. 1 
 
 The greater number of the old monasteries have 
 now fallen to ruin, or have been converted to secular 
 uses, such as prisons, hospitals, &c., and it is en¬ 
 deavoured to discourage as much as possible monastic 
 life in Roumania. No man can now fake the vow 
 under sixty years of age, and a woman must be 
 forty before she can so bind herself. A very trifling 
 allowance is made by the State for the maintenance 
 of such monks and nuns as still remain (this in¬ 
 credibly small pittance is even stated so low as 3f d. 
 a day for food, and £2 a year for clothing) ; there is 
 also a slight allowance for the entertainment of 
 travellers, but all such wanderers (foreign tourists 
 especially) will feel bound to remember, that if re¬ 
 muneration for the three days of peace enjoyed in 
 
 1 ‘ This measure was sanctioned by the guaranteeing Powers 
 against payment of an indemnity ’ (Samuelson). 
 
352 
 
 UNTRODDEN PATHS IN ROUMANIA. 
 
 these secluded monasteries, of kindly welcome, of 
 genial hospitality, according to their restricted means, 
 cannot be legally demanded, it is none the less 
 honestly due, and can always be offered in the form 
 of a donation to some charitable institution or good 
 work dependent upon the community. The repair of 
 the church roof is, amongst others, a claim cn such 
 small help as a passing stranger may offer; it is of 
 startlingly frequent occurrence; but when we re¬ 
 member that by one cf the original clauses of 
 endowment, the communities were not only forbid¬ 
 den to alienate or sell any part of the property, but 
 even to cut wood in their surrounding forests, for 
 any but domestic uses, it is not perhaps astonishing 
 that churches and chapels should be in such need 
 of constant repair. 
 
 Niamtz, in Upper Moldavia, was at one time the 
 most influential monastery in the Principalities, 
 through its numerous community, its vast extent, 
 and its wealth ; it was a place of pilgrimage for the 
 whole country, and had been in still earlier times 
 strongly fortified. As a centre of learning it possessed 
 a library and a printing establishment, an elementary 
 school and a hospital, besides industrial works; all 
 
THE GREEK RELIGION. 
 
 353 
 
 these originated by charitable benefactors. The 
 actual state of this monastery has been described 
 in the foregoing pages. 
 
 The term ‘ manastirea ’ seems to be applied indif¬ 
 ferently to the men’s or to the women’s convents; 
 and they may be described rather as religious 
 communities than as monasteries, according to our 
 understanding of the word—the women’s convents 
 reminding one strongly of the Belgian ‘ Beguinages.’ 
 
 The Roumanians follow the Oriental Greek rite. 
 It is stated that as far back as the reign of Justinian, 
 an archbishopric for the Dacian provinces was 
 established, with a residence at Ochrida, the birth¬ 
 place of that Emperor; later, and until the fifteenth 
 century, ‘ the priests had but one prelate, who resided 
 at the court of Argessu.’ 
 
 £ It is often asked if there be a difference between 
 the Greek religion professed in Russia, and the 
 Greek Oriental rite professed in Roumania; . . . the 
 principal divergence (in practice) consists in differences 
 in the fasts, and in some details of the liturgy. 
 
 £ The clergy in the Greek Church are divided into 
 two classes—the ££ Kalugari ” (monks), who follow the 
 rule of St. Basil, and the secular clergy, who marry 
 
354 
 
 UNTEODDEN PATHS IN EOUMANIA. 
 
 before taking orders. The first-class only may reach 
 the high dignities of . the Church ’ (and these are 
 becoming daily more limited in number). . . . ‘ The 
 monasteries are governed by Archimandrites; the 
 secular clergy, under the name of “papass,” or “popes,” 
 are charged with the care of public worship and 
 parochial duties ’ (Bolintineano, cpioted by Ubiciui). 
 
 The suppression of many of the monasteries, their 
 conversion to uses of national benefit, and the 
 transfer of their vast and accumulated wealth to 
 the needs of the State, was doubtless a wise and 
 necessary measure ; had it been carried out more 
 gradually, and with a suitable provision for those 
 who had already reached middle age in peaceful 
 security and comfort, no complaint could be reason¬ 
 ably justified. But Prince Couza’s measure was too 
 sweeping, too sudden, and too severe; it is piteous 
 now to meet with venerable men and women, many 
 of whom entered their convents in early childhood, 
 reduced to straitened means, which, for those who 
 have not private, resources, is synonymous with 
 I penury and destitution. Some gentler method might 
 surely have been adopted, by which those worthy 
 members of communities who had known ‘ better 
 
A PITIABLE CONDITION. 
 
 355 
 
 days ’ might have been spared their present trials; 
 and if the tender-hearted Queen Elizabeth could, as 
 a simple and unknown tourist, see some of these 
 dignified and gentle ‘ maicas,’ or the venerable 
 Archimandrite of a forgotten community, away in 
 an almost unknown solitude of the Carpathians, her 
 heart would ache with pity for misfortunes for which 
 these poor people are in no way responsible. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 R. Clay & Sons , Limited, London <& Bungdy. 
 

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 GETTY RESEARCH INSTITUTE 
 
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