Voyage To Southern Russia And Crimea, Through Hungary, Wallachia And Moldavia (Paris, 1837)

excerpts Chapter III: BUCHAREST-WALLACHIA (…) My advice to the fatigued traveler who arrives in Bucharest is to pay his first visit to the excellent Turkish baths which we were to try ourselves soon. These establishments, mostly situated in the quarter by the Dâmboviţa banks, blend the healthful effect of vapors and massage and all the refinements with which Orientals have enveloped the physical needs of life. If the prophet was wise enough to elevate a hygienic prescription to the holiness of a religious duty, true believers, in their turn, have been sensual enough to turn it into a pleasure wherein the whole being indulges with utmost delight. Nothing compares to the sweet drowsiness that overtakes your tired members when, once out of this lukewarm steam, and having undergone vigorous massage and aromatic rubbing, you lie peacefully in the soft tissues, while the pipe exhales around you the fragrant incense it is filled with, and now and then the icy water colored by the rose-petal jam offers you its savory freshness; yet this complete beatitude of all the senses may be bought in Bucharest at a bargain price; likewise, it would be well desirable for Viennese and Parisian customs, which tend to take over this capital, to allow the survival of the only two things, perhaps, which the Turks may be proud of, the only things which Europe may still envy nowadays in the Oriental civilization, namely: baths and coffee.During this first day, a few visits received and paid began to give us a general idea about Bucharest and its inhabitants. We were the subject of such exquisite politeness that in the first few hours our agenda was too full for even a much longer stay than what we could afford to dedicate to this considerate hospitality.The reigning prince was kind to appoint an hour to receive us in the evening; in the meantime, as true, curious foreigners would do, we went out for a review of the beau monde of this capital, who were on a trip on their customary promenade in their everyday carriages – for, in this city, everyone has his own. This very busy promenade is not worthy of the popularity it enjoys, as it is no more than a big dusty street marked by wheel tracks. Once you have reached the extremity of the street and city, you're no less a victim of harsh jolting on a badly-maintained street along which three-year-old trees promise to protect with their shade the lucky Wallachians of the next century, as for now strollers are but a prey to the oblique sun rays. A flat, marshy plain – that is the horizon that surrounds the aforementioned promenade. Be that as it may, the line of carriages is long and crowding the road, and every evening you may find there the whole elite of this motley nation that these days is changing its mores as well as its costumes. In the same carriage in which one sees women whose attire and manners do their best to match the Viennese elegance and coquetry, one may also see the black frock, characteristic of the Wallachian youth, side by side with the noble and venerable figure of a white-bearded boyar wearing a dome-shaped bonnet, a heavy headgear imported by the Greeks of Phanar. The coachman, who sits gravely in his seat, is sometimes dressed in Russian fashion, girdled in a long caftan, or a Turk with a large turban, or an Arnaut in a white, floating skirt. In brief, this quick procession sliding in the evening dust, these feathers, these turbans, these voiles that pass by and crisscross around you compose quite a bizarre and attractively novel show.Eventually we went to the palace of the gospodar. A few officers were waiting for the prince to return from his promenade; and we found among them a Frenchman, Viscount of Grammont-Louvigny, whose perfect courtesy we had previously had the occasion to appreciate. The salon where we were introduced did not display any ornament except for a portrait of General Kisseleff, a well-meaning and good-natured man whose revered image may be seen on the humblest as well as the noblest walls in this country. Before long the gospodar was announced, and the warm, graceful welcome he extended offered us the opportunity to witness the multifarious knowledge of the prince. A witty, easygoing conversation on all the topics that were then the talk of Western salons proved us that, in this capital that can only be reached by crossing deserts, the finest spirit and the progress of the century have found a deserving and logical interpreter. I shall take the liberty of outlining, in a few hints, the person of the gospodar of Wallachia: prince Ghica, who is reigning under the name of Alexander II, combines the outer traits of a gentleman with a sweet, solemn physiognomy that inspires – first of all – confidence; his conversation is smooth and sprightly, indicative of an elevated spirit. The prince, who seems to have reached mid-life, has remained a bachelor to this day; he is a paragon of private virtues as well as of enlightened love for the public welfare. The reigning princes of Wallachia have adopted the civilian costume from the West, and the uniforms of the Russian Empire. (…) The 13th of July found us reunited in the capital of Wallachia, and the only problem we had was to choose how to spend our time in a both useful and pleasant manner. One's first concern in Bucharest is to procure a carriage; the large size of the city calls for this precaution and, moreover, the actual fashion is imperative about it; likewise, no person of some value may be seen afoot in the streets. This habit, like that of wearing a cloak, rain or shine, to protect oneself from the dust, are not likely to find favor with a foreigner who wishes to see and observe. We were quick to take a trip, each on his own, around this big city, whose bustling streets are arrayed with numerous shops in which activity stands for luxury. An entire neighborhood is occupied by furriers' stores and tailors' workshops. The streets, of varying breadth, are badly aligned and above all badly cobbled – some even aren't at all. Most houses are mere hovels built of carious wood, among which stand edifices with a most pretentious architecture. Unfortunately, the frail nature of the materials used in this country does not resist to the weather, and the most beautiful houses in Bucharest are severely dilapidated on the outside, despite their lavish ornamental flowers and rosettes. The most striking thing in this city is the variety of costumes and faces displayed by such a numerous population each and every moment. All these people roam the city with brisk, engrossed miens, unexpected from lower-class mores which have remained Oriental. The artisans of Bucharest, the laborers, the porters do not seem to spurn hard work; but what really enlivens this city is the great number of Jews that inhabit it. Active, ingratiating, never discouraged, they sow around life and action, for neither formalities nor exhaustion deter them if they entertain hopes of a minimal recompense. Thus, as soon as you see a Jew's broad-rimmed hat and black, seedy gown, you may say you've got at your disposal, if you wish, a skillful, clever, tireless servant whom nothing impresses, neither disdain, nor anger, and you may turn to this man without hesitation, whatever your problem; he will reply in German, Italian, in four languages perhaps; and for a few piastres, once the deal closed, his industriousness, his agility, his silence, his patience, his eloquence, his virtues, his vices, his soul, his body – they are all yours. (…) A few interesting visits we paid together took up this day. We saw the BucharestMuseum. This Museum is specially dedicated to natural history, and occupies a space that will expand as the collections, barely inaugurated, become more and more important. The public library is lodged in the same building; it comprises about seven thousand volumes. This meager nucleus is waiting for a complement where science and history in particular are in dire need of wider representation. Upon leaving these interesting and already prosperous establishments, considering the short time elapsed since the regeneration of the principality, I was happy to deposit with the mineralogical collection a sample of our Siberian platinum that I hope will remain as a token of the gracious reception we were given on this visit. From there we were conducted to the college. Commodious, roomy facilities, young students clad in nice uniforms speak in favor of this institution.In such a small country as Wallachia, public offices, until now reserved for the most capable, will be the object of a competition that will promptly benefit the advancement of young people's education. The sagacious projects of Prince Alexandru Ghica are apt to provide his country with an enlightened nursery of young people destined to catch up with the youth from other European countries. If we take into account the starting point of these unfortunate Turkish provinces, the things they accomplished so far, and those they will soon attain, one cannot possibly deny the various thanksgiving efforts dedicated to the man who invested these principalities with the noblest seeds of civilization, General Kisseleff, one of those rare creative geniuses whose provident goodness can see far ahead. Likewise, one can't help admitting that the general's plans were passed on to worthy heirs, and that the young generation of Wallachia does not seem incapable of putting them to profitable use. (…)


by Anatole de Demidoff