Bucharest June 9
My dear Mr Clemens:—When I received your answer to my first letter from Paris
some weeks ago nothing was further from my intention than following the
example of my little circus friend. I am inclined to think now that I am in
Bucharest that there is “Kismet” in it all and that it was intended from the first that
my chance acquaintance and myself should meet in battle. If he should have his
gun pointed at me to shoot me and suddenly recognize me and fire in the air it
would be quite up to the dramatic standard of the dime novel and would not
surprise me in the least. Two weeks ago if any one had ventured the remark that I
would go to the war I should have called them mad. It happened like this: I had
been in London a day or two to see the pictures there and had steadily refused
offers to go to the war as correspondent because I could not bear to leave my
work. After my return to Paris I received a letter from the manager of the
European correspondence of the N.Y. Herald requesting me to meet him It was a
telegram, rather, and found me only after lying two or three days in the banker’s. I immediately started down to see him and on the way as I was stopped at a crowded
crossing I blundered right into his carriage and he was on his way up to find me
having that moment learned my address. He said “Will you go to Roumania with
me”? I said “yes”! I refrain from writing you the reasons why I said so; you would
think them strange and perhaps silly ones and, yet, although not a moment passes
but I regret I am not at my easle
I am satisfied it was the only thing to do for me
to come. If in this great gambling game I can make any kind of a stroke I am set up
for a year or two. If I lose I still gain something. So here I am buying horses and
camp utensils and baggage waggon and all sorts of paraphernalia to go into the
field. Macgahan and Forbes are here for the Daily News, Jackson and myself for
the N.Y. Herald. There will probably be three columns move into Bulgaria and we
four will cover the field and try and beat the world. We had a most delightful trip
down here via Munich, Vienna[,] Budapest and the Danube as far as it is open then
across Roumania here. It was intensely interesting to see how the excitement about
the war gradually increased as we approached the border and then suddenly was
lost and we couldn=t make it out that it was not all a farce. We expected that we
should see Russian soldiers at the frontier at Vercerova but only one ragged
Roumanian infantryman guarded the ramshackly turnpike gate and we were let into
the country without much of any formula. Not a Russian soldier did we see until
we got to Slatina where we ran plump into a camp of 15 or 20 000 of them. Just at
the frontier, to go back a little, was the famous Turkish fort Sda Kalessi and we
had been looking at it through our field glasses from the hotel window at Orsova
four miles away and expected to see some hostile movements about there when we
dashed along almost under its very walls. But not a soldier did we see, nor a
cannon, only some peaceful looking tents and a couple of red fezed Turks fishing
on the Roumanian shore. It was a great come down to brace ourselves away up to
the notch of seeing a gun or two close at hand and then not so much as to see a
tompion. Edward King was along and we had a great deal of fun out of our worry
about getting into the country. As I said, in Roumania itself there seems to be
perfect peace. The great Russian camps, the great parks of artillery and the herds of
horses force one to believe that there is a war but the people dont bother
themselves about it half as much as the Parisians do. Even here in Bucharest the
only signs of war are swarms of Russian officers. I hav[e]n’t seen 200 Roumanian
soldiers since I came here. To be sure the cabs are tearing around the streets all the
time as fast as they can go and the newspapers are filled with accounts of the
bombardment of Gringevo only 30 or 40 miles away but it does not stir us as much as a squirrel shooting in a country town. It is great fun to stand back and see
yourself get accustomed to these things and to wonder why you are not excited and
whether you will be at all. We go about our preparations for a three months
campaign just about as if we were to go out on a picnic and only are worried at the
possibility of getting beaten by other correspondents. We are very busy of course
and I only sieze this opportunity of writing you because I dont know but I may get
into the mess any day and then I shant have time to write. I wanted to thank you
for the very good letter you sent me at Paris and to explain that I should have
answered it before only I have been employed every moment of my time in fitting
up my house there and in newspaper work in addition to my painting. Charlie
Stoddard who spent a few days there and who is soon to come to America will see
you and tell you just how well we are situated in Paris and all about our
establishment. If I had more time at my disposal I should enjoy writing you about
the country here. You know it is not new to me but it is very little known to ‸of
by‸ the world This war will make people as familiar with the Danubian provinces
as they are with Spain I suppose. The most surprising characteristic of the country
is its great likeness to our South & West. You would feel quite at home here—with
the exception of the language which is peculiar. I am wrestling with that and
Russian and scarcely get time to eat. I can only now stop to send many kind
regards to all your family whom I remember as if I had acquired new
relatives—why dont people recognize the famille de coeur even if there be no drop
of the same blood in its members? I never think of those evenings in Hartford but
I feel a great glow come over me. “Tick! tick!” Tell Mrs Clemens that I have had
my photograph taken to hand in headquarters as part of the formality and if they
are good I will send her one. Please write me and it will be forwarded. Of course I
only ask ‸you‸ to send me a line and not to use up your valuable time too much. I
shall write again when I have a chanceI enclose address.
Yours always
F.D. Millet
