In Bucharest I stayed at the Hotel Frascati, where I spent four delightful days entirely free from all anxiety. It was on the second day of my visit that I received the first evidence of Roumania’s attitude. In the evening I went to the Casino de Paris, where the audience formed quite a cosmopolitan crowd. When the band played the Marseillaise a party of Germans, who had evidently been dining well rather than judiciously, expressed their feelings by whistling loudly and making other noises. The audience, however, loudly applauded the band, and the incident terminated.
Shortly afterwards one of the thick-skinned Teutons offered the bandmaster a 20 mark note (£1) to play Die Wacht am Rhein. The bandmaster was willing to take the 20 marks, but expressed some doubt as to whether the musicians would play the required air. Furthermore he expressed himself as very doubtful as to the effect of the melody upon the people assembled in the Casino. He eventually overcame alike the compunction of his band and his own misgivings, but the orchestra had hardly started before pandemonium broke out. “À bas les Allemands!” and other cries were shouted on every side, with an occasional “À bas les bosches!” and the band came to a sudden stop. The Germans left the Casino in some haste, to the accompaniment of the hisses of the audience.
Roumania is all for the Entente Powers, and in particular she is pro-French. Her especial hatred is for Austria, and in a superlative degree for Hungary. One evening I went to a kinematograph exhibition entitled “Under the Yoke of Austria-Hungary,” which depicted the sufferings of Roumanians living under Austrian rule. At one particular incident the audience rose to their feet and shrieked “Down with Austria! Down with Hungary!” These demonstrations are by no means rare, and they show very clearly the general trend of Roumanian public opinion.
The whole Roumanian army is eager for war. I reveal no secret in stating this, for Roumania is overrun with German spies. During my short stay I came in contact with many Roumanian officers, who expressed themselves as very dissatisfied with the slowness of the Entente operations. They are, however, firm believers in the eventual victory of the Allies, and they assured me that no influence, no pressure, political or otherwise, could induce them to join with Germany. They do not appreciate quite all the difficulties with which the Allies have to deal. Germany has been preparing for this war for more than a generation; the Triple Entente Powers were taken by surprise and have been greatly handicapped. This I strove to point out to my Roumanian acquaintances, urging them to “wait and see.”
I hesitate to offer advice to the British Government; but I wish in the interests of itself and its Allies that it could be persuaded as to the necessity—no milder word is suitable—of making known in Roumania the magnificent work of the British Army and Navy. The instinctive sympathy of the Roumanians is with the French and Italians; for it must be remembered that they are a Latin people. Their newspapers publish a great deal about the French and Italian armies. The Germans have their own newspapers, printed in the Roumanian tongue. German propaganda and German gold are to be encountered everywhere, the chief object being to keep Roumania neutral.
A favourite device with the Germans is to exaggerate every mishap to the Allies, magnify every success of their own into a great victory, and above all to point out to Roumania the magnitude of the task that the Entente Powers have undertaken. When I was in Bucharest the chief theme of the German newspapers was the Dardanelles. Long accounts of English defeats appeared in their journals, all lavishly illustrated. The Roumanian is not devoid of intelligence, and he can fairly well appraise Prussian character, and he would rather fight to the last man than share the fate of Belgium, Serbia, or Montenegro; still he cannot be entirely indifferent to the clever German propaganda.
From the plenty, the music, and the white bread of Bucharest I set out for Sofia. At Giugiu, the Roumanian frontier-station on the Danube, I took the ferry across to Rustchouk, in Bulgarian territory. Here I had to spend a day and night waiting for the train. Rustchouk is a terrible little place, ankle-deep in mud, and I looked forward with dismay to the dreary hours I should have to spend in this awful hole. But all things have their compensations, and I was able to glean some very interesting information.
On the Danube I noticed four Austrian monitors, which were there, I was told, to protect the Austrian and Bulgarian cities on the river bank against Russian attack. I also noticed with the keenest interest huge quantities of light railway material, mostly rails and sleepers, which were being brought down by boat and landed at the Bulgarian port on their way to Turkey. All this material, I was told, is destined for the campaign against Egypt.
I found the Bulgarian authorities much more difficult than the Austrian; this I remembered from my previous trip, and I had taken the precaution of obtaining a special passport at the Bulgarian Legation in Vienna. Even with this invaluable document in my possession I experienced considerable difficulty, and was subjected to much questioning before I was allowed to pass. These unpleasant and nerve-racking interrogations were dreadful ordeals, to which I never seemed to be able to accustom myself. Perhaps I was too imaginative, but the consequences of a possible slip were always before me.
During my first visit to Vienna in war time I had a very unpleasant experience, showing the necessity for constant care. One day I encountered in the streets of Vienna a young Englishman I had known in London, who had not been interned. He gave me a cigarette, and subsequently came to my hotel. I was promptly challenged for smoking an English cigarette, which, coupled with the fact that I had some acquaintance with an Englishman, resulted in my arrest, and I spent an unpleasant day in an Austrian prison. This little incident, which involved endless mental strain, shows how necessary it was for me to be for ever watchful. It must be remembered that my journey occupied some seven weeks.