Braila is at the head of navigation for sea-going vessels, and as it is only about 125 miles from the mouth of the river, is practically a port on the Black Sea. A few years ago it was of secondary commercial importance to Galatz, a larger town similarly placed on a bluff fifteen miles farther down-stream. Since the Turkish war, however, the grain trade has been gradually transferred to the former city, until it has now absorbed the whole of this commerce, and has become the chief shipping port for all the produce of the grain-growing regions of Roumania and northern Bulgaria. Extensive docks and immense grain elevators have been built there, and will soon be in active operation. We had seen at various places below Rustchuk indications of the proximity of Russia, chiefly in the architecture of churches, with their green domes and bulbous spires, but also in various details of costume, carriages, and harnesses. At Braila all the carts which carry grain to the steamers have the Russian bow over the horses’ withers, and many Russian signs are seen on the shops. All the public carriages of Galatz are driven by Russians, members of a peculiar religious sect, who wear their national costume, consisting of a long black velvet coat with full skirts, plaited at the waist, and two rows of silver buttons on the breast, tall boots, and the characteristic flat-topped cap. The fashion of employing Russian coachmen, once prevalent all over Roumania, is fast dying out now, however, and is said to continue in full force in Galatz alone.
The army of the Czar made the first crossing of the Danube in 1877 from Galatz, across the marsh to a spur of the bold hills near the village of Matchin, and it was in one of the narrow arms of the river here that the Turkish monitors were entrapped and destroyed. Galatz covers much more territory than its neighbor above, spreading far out over a level plateau, along highways which are deserts of dust in summer and sloughs of mire in winter. Part of the town is laid out with some regularity, and there are a few streets well cared for and with new buildings; but the thoroughfares on the slope of the plateau near the river are narrow, crooked, and steep, and most of the pavements are simply atrocious. There is no gas manufactured, but an abundance of water is brought into the town, and a fountain is in constant operation in the tiny park, where a military band plays light French airs every evening to a motley crowd of many nationalities. The better class of Roumanians have a deeply-rooted admiration for France and for everything French, and in all the cities there are curious and often ludicrous attempts to imitate Parisian architecture and to follow the customs of that capital. This is the result, of course, of the French education of the youth of the leading families for generations past, and here, as in all countries where civilization has reached only the second stage—the purely commercial one—the few who leaven the mass do not always judiciously winnow the wheat from the chaff in the foreign seed they plant at home.
The larger part of the town consists of houses only one story in height, with stucco façades and tiled roofs. There is almost nothing to interest the sight-seer in the way of architecture or relics of antiquity, and, indeed, the most notable object of interest in town is the tomb of Mazeppa in the Church of St. Maria. In certain quarters the population is very dense, and the streets and dwellings there are in a state of indescribable filth. The crowded market-places are in the morning perfect museums of types and costumes. Albanians
GYPSY CAMP AT GALATZ
in fustinellas like ballet-dancers’ skirts jostle Slovac raftsmen in their skin-tight woollen trousers; smart marines from the naval station at the upper part of the town haggle with peddlers of Turkish tobacco; and florid-faced cooks of English steamers shoulder their way to the meat-shops, regardless of Roumanian, Bulgarian, Russian, Greek, or Jew. In the outskirts of the town several large bands of gypsies camp on the hill-sides; for here, as in most other places in Roumania and Hungary, they are not allowed to occupy houses. Of all the specimens of this remarkable race we saw in our trip, those at Galatz were by far the most savage and repulsive in appearance. As we approached their squalid camp on the bare slope of a great hill, exposed to wind and sun, hundreds of half-clothed howling maniacs swooped down upon us, wildly gesticulating and shrieking for alms, tearing open their garments to show their emaciated bodies, and holding aloft naked children shivering in the cold breeze. Raven black hair falling over their faces in tangled masses half hid their small cunning eyes, and sun and dirt had given their skins the color and texture of long-tanned leather. Everything about them—clothes, blankets, and tents—was of the same suggestive brown hue, and this monotone was only relieved by gaudy trinkets in the matted tresses of the women and by an occasional ornamental knife handle in the girdle of the men. We were unable to endure for any length of time the filth of the camp and the proximity of the evil-looking, ill-smelling crowd, which at every moment became more and more difficult to avoid; and we soon retreated, followed for a long distance by a number of urchins, all limbs and rags, who turned somersaults in the dust and yelled frantically for money. We did not feel purified from the contact with these gypsies until we were seated again in the canoes and facing the brisk east wind on the broad reach below Galatz.