As a proof of this, I myself saw in that Roumanian capital of refuge, Jassy, the conditions which the Bolshevik revolution had fomented and I was able to perceive the existence of two entirely different elements: the popular state of mind and the individual influence of agitators belonging to the daring world of adventurers. Forty thousand Russian soldiers and workers waited in Socola near Jassy, defended by a handful of soldiers under the command of a colonel. The disintegration of a large and splendid army had begun. The first deed was the procession of red flags through the streets, all bearing inscriptions which the poor misguided people could not understand — they were wholly illiterate. The second was the sermon preached at the street corner by the good apostle, wearing the red cockade at his lapel. The Russians usually followed him, the Roumanians contenting themselves with a smile and a derisive shrug of the shoulders. The final point in the affair was the surprise occupation of the Russian headquarters.
A friend of mine was present at this tragic yet ridiculous phase, when the proclamation to the army had to be written, little before the arrest of its leader, General Stcherbatchev, who in less happy circumstances would have been shot next day. The Bolshevik leader was one Roshal, a student, who had boiled officers of the Russian Navy at Kronstadt near Petrograd: he did not possess sufficient command of his own language to draw up the proclamation. Eventually the task was undertaken by Roshal's concubine, a young Jewess of seventeen years of age. I happened to learn of the plot to suppress Stcherbatchev, which was also communicated by my informant to the then President of the Council, Ion Brătianu. In the evening of the same day the Russian general was safe, but Roshal and his lady were arrested
