Chapter XXXVIII: With the Wallachs

Heigh-ho! Pretty little Wallach girl tripping along so gingerly over the muddy thoroughfares on thy way to the fountain opposite, and stooping to kiss--shall I say it--the dirty hand of the _Popa_, who just at this moment passes in his long black toga. Why does he linger so long speaking to thee, and why is thy head bent low, and thy sweet face, which until this moment was suffused with smiles, so downcast, whilst he addresses thee gravely in an undertone? Hast thou been remiss in thy observance of the thousand and one fasts of the Greek Church? Ah, no! The Popa points to the fountain, where, sitting in my projecting room, as in a martin’s nest, I have often seen thee talking with a handsome “Saxon” lad, as he filled thy classical-shaped pitcher for thee and lingered in the doing of it as though he loved thy company; and here thou art again at the trysting place.

Steel thy heart, little Wallach, against that handsome “Saxon” lad, for thy spiritual father hath marked you both, and will not let thee wed a “Saxon” unbeliever. Think not harshly of him, for he means kindly. It is not well or customary for the Wallachs to intermarry with the “Saxon” folk; thy people are not their people, nor thy ways their ways. Forget this little bit of romance, and wait till some swain from amongst thine own people bestows his love upon thee.

How I feel for that pretty little maiden as the tears roll down her cheeks, and her full round lips tremble as she struggles with her sobs! What a pity there are hearts to break! for, love him as she may, she must not marry him. That a “Saxon” youth should wed even with a lass of the same kith from another village is regarded with the greatest disapprobation, and woe to the girl who is brought into one that is not hers by right of birth, for the whole female population rise up in dudgeon against the interloper. But--a Wallach!

“Mean, dirty, shabby, idle Wallachs!” are epithets often hurled at their unhappy heads--“A Wallach to intermarry with decent ‘Saxon-folk,’ who has scarce anything to her back, and washes her house-linen every week--Bah!”

In “Saxon-land,” as in many parts of Germany, a bride’s trousseau of under-linen is so enormous that the family washing is of scarcely more than annual occurrence, or at the very most quarterly; and as in England the respectability of a family is estimated according to the amount of its butcher’s bill, so public opinion in “Saxon-land” is principally governed by the number of “washes” a family may have in the course of a year. The Wallach women, therefore, muddling in their weekly wash-tub, are held in great contempt by the thrifty “Saxon” dames, who possess clothes in their lockers they have never even worn. And, although tolerated as common citizens, the Wallachs are considered quite outside the pale of “Saxon” society. In fact there is no love lost between the two races. The Wallachs regard their “Saxon” neighbours as a “canny folk,” prone to get rich too fast and sometimes by practices that are scarcely within the bounds of honesty; whilst the “Saxons” look down upon their Wallach brethren as idle, thriftless loons, possessing lax notions as to the respective merits of _meum_ and _tuum_, and the exclusiveness of individual property.

During the war of Hungarian Independence, however, the canny “Saxons” curried favour with the Wallachs, and induced them to unite with them in siding with Austria against the Magyars. And fearful were the atrocities committed by the Wallachs on the defenceless Magyar residents and “Nobles” of Transylvania, many of whose children were carried round the villages spiked on the top of the Wallachs’ bayonets, whilst women were cruelly tortured, and by a refinement of cruelty some of the men were buried up to their necks, and then mown down.

In this once exclusive “Saxon”-land there are at present large villages almost wholly inhabited by Wallachs, some of which contain a population of several thousand souls. The approach to these villages may invariably be recognised by the number of wayside crosses and little temples met with along the road; the latter crowded with statues and paintings in fresco, there being, as in Gallicia, no limit to the construction of saints, which are of every colour and material. These Wallach villages are far less clean, but they are more picturesque, than those of the “Saxons.” Instead of stone, the houses are almost entirely built of wood, and their gables are surmounted by a cross. The streets are long and narrow; while each house has its own courtyard enclosed behind high wooden palings carved roughly but in beautiful designs, entered by a doorway covered with a small wooden roof.

The Wallach churches are very singular, and are often painted on the outside from top to bottom with grotesque figures. Inside they are invariably dark and gloomy, the walls being painted in sombre colours interspersed with gold. The small lancet windows begrimed with dust admit but little light, for the Wallachs, unlike the Magyars, indulge in the “dim religious” to such an extent that their churches resemble Buddhist temples far more than edifices dedicated to the worship of Christ. The roofs are dome-shaped, and the naves, which are paved with black marble, empty. There are no seats of any kind, and the people during the service either stand or kneel.

In these villages one sees no rags nor even mended garments, and if an “idle,” the Wallachs would nevertheless seem to be a very thriving, people. Like the “gentle Slovaks,” they have their cow, their poultry and little plot of land which their women sow with seed and hoe and cultivate, whilst the men guide the plough, or more frequently stay at home and look after the children. The Wallach woman is a most industrious creature, and much maligned by her “Saxon” sister, and if she does not possess a great store of ready-made linen in her locker, and washes once a week, she has at any rate large rolls of unbleached homespun on her shelves. In the autumn she begins spinning vigorously for the winter’s weaving, after which she makes the material into garments for her numerous progeny. Too much, however, cannot be said concerning the indolence of the male Wallach, whose prosperity is generally due to his wife’s industry rather than to his own. More slow even than the Magyar, he works as though it were a matter of the most sublime indifference whether the occupation in which he is engaged be ever finished, and if he goes to market with farm-produce other than his own, he usually lies in the waggon fast asleep, and arrives at his destination just when the “Saxon-folk” are returning home.

He is in truth but too often a poor, feeble, and effeminate creature, greatly fallen from the courage and valour of his first estate. The form of Christianity taught him by the ignorant Popas, doubtless does much to foster this indolence and effeminacy, for the teaching of the Greek Church in these secluded villages is almost exclusively confined to the observance of its fasts.

“If God,” so argues the Wallach peasant, “clothes the lilies of the field and feeds the fowls of the air, who never go to church, how much more will He clothe and feed me, who go there every Sunday, and fast almost every alternate day in the week besides?”

The orthodox Wallach will do anything rather than violate these fasts, which occupy more than a third part of the entire year. He believes in ghosts, vampires, and changelings, and spends much of his time in inventing charms against the machinations of the Devil. The belief in witchcraft also is still prevalent in Transylvania, and more than one old woman was pointed out to us even by the enlightened “Saxons” as being gifted with that art.

Amongst other superstitions, the Wallachs entertain a strong objection to beginning anything either on Tuesday or Saturday; whilst the reverential awe in which they hold Friday may be evidenced by an amusing incident which has been related of two men who were committed to trial for having waylaid and murdered a traveller. When brought to justice they confessed the crime; but upon being asked by the magistrate what they had done with the plunder, they replied that they had only found upon their victim a few florins and a roasted fowl, the former they had divided between them, but the latter they had given to the dog, as, being Friday, they were afraid to eat it on account of committing a sin.

So ignorant are the priests of the Oriental branch of the Greek Church, that few can do more than read and write, whilst some are so miserably poor, that they are compelled to eke out their scanty subsistence by working as day-labourers. The priests of the “United Greek” and “Latin” Churches are, on the contrary, both better educated and better paid, their livings being largely endowed by the State.

Less picturesque in itself than some others, but beautifully situated, is the Wallach village of Czood, which lies at the foot of mountains that enclose it on all sides. In the centre of the village rises the metal cupola of the church, whilst nestling round it are the wooden houses with their heavy carved palings and doorways.

On first entering its cottages we were under the impression that they were shops for the sale of native manufacture, for the walls were covered, not only with rows of jugs and cups, but square pieces of striped drapery likewise. We soon found, however, that these articles were simply placed there to decorate the apartment, for, whereas the “Saxon” _Hausfrau_ prides herself in her stock of linen, the glory of the Wallach matron, like that of her Magyar sister, consists in the number of articles of crockery she has hanging round her walls, much of the money received by the “gudewife” on market days for her butter, poultry, and eggs being spent, ere she returns, on these singular frivolities. Not only this, the Wallach woman covers her walls with useless square patches of woollen fabric, woven by herself in divers colours and patterns.

Wherever we go amongst the Wallachs, we are received with the utmost courtesy and kindness. They are adepts in the art of pleasing, and invariably meet us with a smile, addressing us in their corrupted Latin with such sweet, musical voices that they completely win our hearts. The men, too, doff their hats as we pass them on the road, and give us a word of greeting; but the less courteous “Saxons”--_never_.

We had travelled already more than ten days in Transylvania without having yet seen a Wallach baby, these little mortals seeming to be as scarce here as Slovak ones are numerous; but on entering another cottage we found, lying fast asleep in a cradle swathed _al bambino_, a funny stiff little atom of humanity that one could no more have bent than if it had been an idol made of wood or stone, whilst near it stood its mother, a child herself of sixteen years, scrubbing away vigorously at the weekly wash.

As is usually the case, the house formed the abode of several generations of the same family, and consisted of three apartments, the inner one being very prettily furnished, its tables covered with Oriental-looking cloths of home manufacture. Beneath the walls of the room were ranged benches with high backs, on which flowers were painted in a style that would have done for models of the so-called “high art” of the period. The Wallachs not only spin their wool and flax, and weave their own materials, but dye them also, and their arrangement of colours is always harmonious.

Great excitement prevailed in the cottage when it was discovered we were strangers from Ángol-land, and we felt pretty much as an illustrious couple from the Sandwich Islands might be supposed to feel on visiting our shores. What a lifting up of eyes and hands in astonishment, and cries of “La, la!”--the Wallach’s favourite mode of expressing surprise. One ejaculated “_Intestate_,” intimating thereby that she was bewildered at the very thought of it; whilst another, in adding gesture to her exclamation of astonishment, upset the washing-tub, and awoke the chrysalis in the cradle, which, beginning to cry, added its own small voice to the general tumult, in the middle of which in walked the village Popa.

A young man, with a soft expression of countenance, and with dark hair parted down the middle and hanging loosely over his shoulders, he might have sat for a picture of St. John. In intelligence he appeared far above the average of Popas of the Oriental Greek Church, and spoke German well. On ascertaining who the “illustrious strangers” were, he kissed our hands, and begged we would permit him to conduct us to his dwelling.

Passing under the massive wooden archway that led to the enclosure, we entered the house, which differed little from the one we had just quitted. His wife, to whom he introduced us in quite European fashion, was a sweet young woman dressed in the costume of the Wallach peasantry. We had scarcely seated ourselves, when, pattering about with her naked feet, she began to spread a white cloth on the table, and arrange upon it such things as their larder afforded, consisting of black bread, honey, butter, fruit, white wine, and Borszék--a mineral water with which wine is usually partaken of in Transylvania. We required nothing, but felt instinctively that by refusing to partake of the refreshment so gracefully offered, we should hurt their feelings. As soon, therefore, as we were bidden to the little feast, we took our seats as a matter of course and without demur.

According to the rules of their Church these Popas are obliged to be married men; but possessing in common with the Magyars somewhat Oriental ideas on many points, they regard their wives as slightly inferior in the scale of humanity to themselves. Whilst we partook of the simple repast prepared for us, the little wife sat at the other end of the room working, maintaining the while that respectful silence which she naturally would who felt she held an inferior position.

“My wife is always industrious,” said the young Popa--calling our attention to her--“that is all her work”--pointing to a number of shelves on the opposite side of the apartment on which rested large rolls of unbleached linen. “At this time of year we have many out-of-door pursuits,” he continued, “but in the winter days, when there is little to be done in the fields and there is no sowing or planting or ingathering of grain, our women work busily at their looms.”

Going across the room to the bench where his demure little wife sat with her feet crossed one over the other, I looked at her work. She was embroidering, in scarlet and black silks, the bodices and sleeves of the white under-garment always worn by Wallach women, the stitch being that familiarly known as “sampler,” two threads of the material being taken up on the needle diagonally, and then crossed: the effect of a broad stripe of embroidery in this stitch in a close Eastern pattern being very beautiful.

“_Quanto graziosa tu sei!_”--(How lovely you are!)--I exclaimed in Italian, as with her sweet, pensive, Madonna-like face she looked down on her work.

She understood me perfectly, and lifting her eyes to mine, regarded me with a frank, unconscious smile, for to the Hungarian women, wherever they are met with, vanity is a vice unknown.

Whilst F. and the Popa talked religion and politics, I lingered at her side examining her pretty bodice and sleeves, together with her large silver earrings, just for an excuse to look at and admire her.

Those of the Wallachs generally consist of a ring some three or four inches in diameter, from which hang loose pendants of rich design. They do not go through the ear, but are fastened round it; hence the necessity of the long, loose chain which crosses the neck and connects them for safety to each other. These circular earrings are very becoming to their Wallach wearers, who have oval faces, and possess, like the Magyars, bewitching beauty when young, but, alas! how soon their beauty fades.

Mr. Bonar was evidently well known here also, our host remarking that he remembered having seen him when a lad, and whenever he is alluded to it is invariably as “_the_ Englishman.”