The charming scenery of the Szeklerland, and the kindly hospitality of the people, induced me to linger on. I had many a ride through those glorious primeval forests, where the girth of the grand old oak-trees and their widespreading branches are in themselves a sight to see: the beech, too, are very fine. Climbing farther, the deciduous woods give place to sombre pine-trees—the greybeards of the mountain. A great charm in this part of the country, at least from a picturesque point of view, is the affluence of water. Every rocky glen has its gurgling rill, every ravine its stream, which, at an hour's notice almost, may become a mountain torrent, should a storm break over the watershed. A plague of waters is no unfrequent occurrence, as the farmer in the valley knows to his cost. Fields are laid under water, and the turbulent streams often bring down great masses of earth and rock in a way that becomes "monotonous" for the man who has to clear his land or his roads of thedébris. Mr Judd remarks that the volcanic rocks of Hungary have "suffered enormously from denuding causes." Every fresh storm reminds one that the process is in active operation.
After finally leaving Tusnad, I rode on to Csik Szent Marton, where, as there was no inn, I had to present myself at the best house in the place and crave their hospitality. My request was taken as a matter of course, and they received me with the greatest kindness; in fact it was with great difficulty that I could get away the next day. My host entreated me to remain longer, and when he found that I was really bent on departing, he gave me several letters of introduction to friends of his along the road I was likely to travel. It was a very acceptable act of kindness, for there are hardly any inns in this part of the country. "If Transylvania is an odd corner of Europe," then is the Csik or Szeklerland a still more odd corner; by no possibility can it ever be the highroad to anywhere else. I am not surprised that my lawyer friend said that there were still some lawsuits pending in connection with the allotments of forest and pasturage in this part of Hungary, though everything was definitely settled elsewhere. The Szekler is as troublesome and turbulent in some respects as his own mountain streams; added to which he dearly loves a lawsuit: it is in the eyes of the peasant a patent of respectability, as keeping a gig formerly was in England.
"Why do you go to law about such a trifle?" observed a friend of mine to his neighbour.
"Well, you see I have never had a lawsuit, as all my neighbours have had about something or another; so, now there is the chance, I had better have one myself!"
It is well for the lawyers that there is "a good deal of human nature" everywhere, especially in Hungary, otherwise they would have a bad time of it, where the legal expenses of "transfer" are a few florins, whether it be for an acre of vineyard or for half acomitat. I must observe, however, that in the sale of lands or houses, Government intervenes with a heavy tax on the transaction.
Leaving my hospitable entertainers at Csik Szent Marton, I went on to Csik Szereda, where I was kindly taken in by the postmaster. In this case I was provided with a letter; but a stranger would naturally go to the postmaster or the clergyman to ask for a night's lodging. At first I felt diffident on this score; but I soon got over my shyness,for in Szeklerland they make a stranger so heartily welcome that he ceases to regard himself as an intruder. In out-of-the-way places one is looked upon as a sort of heaven-sent "special correspondent." There is a story told of Baron ——, one of the nearly extinct old-fashioned people, who regularly, an hour or so before the dinner-hour, rides along the nearest highroad to try and catch a guest. It has even been whispered that on one occasion a couple of intelligent-looking travellers, who declined to be "retained" for dinner, were severely beaten for their recalcitrant behaviour, by order of the hospitable Baron. The story is well founded, and I daresay took place before '48, when anything might have happened.
I can bear witness that I have never myself been ill-treated for declining Hungarian hospitality, but when in Saxonland something very much the reverse occurred to me. I once entered a village at the end of a long day's ride, and stopping at the first house, asked for a night's lodging, whereupon I was told to ask at the next house. They said they could not take me in, excusing themselves on the score of an important domestic event being expected. I went on a little farther, though the "shades of night were falling fast," and repeated my request at the next house. I give you my word, there weremoredomestic events—always the same excuse. I began to calculate that the population must be rapidly on the increase in that place. It was too much. I entered the last house of that straggling village with a stern resolve that not even new-born twins should bar my claim to hospitality!
I found the postmaster at Csik Szereda a very intelligent man, with a fund of anecdotes and recollections, which generally centred in the troubles of '48. As I mentioned before, the Szeklers roseen masseagainst the Austrians. One of their officers, Colonel Alexander Gál, proved himself a very distinguished leader. Corps after corps were organised and sent to aid General Bem. "It was a terrible time; the men had to fight the enemy in the plain while our old men and women defended their homesteads against the jealous Saxons and the brutal Wallacks."
It was not in one place, or from one person, but from every one with whom I spoke on the subject, that I heard frightful stories of Wallack atrocities. In one instance a noble family—in all, thirteen persons, including a new-born infant—were slaughtered under circumstances of horrible barbarity within the walls of their castle. The name I think was Bardi; it is matter of history.
Amongst other horrors, the Wallacks on several occasions buried their victims alive, except the head,which they left above ground; they would then hurl stones at the unfortunate creatures, or cut off the heads with a scythe. It was not a war of classes but of race, for the poor peasants amongst the Magyars and Szeklers fared just as badly at the hands of the infuriated Wallacks as the nobles.
The belief is still held that the Vienna Government instigated the outbreak. Certainly arms had been put into the hands of these uncivilised hordes under the pretence of organising a sort of militia. Metternich knew the character of these irregulars, as he had known and proved the character of the Slovacks in Galicia in the terrible rising of the serfs in 1846. His complicity on that occasion has never been disproved.
The winter of 1848-49 must have been a time of unexampled misery to the Magyars of Transylvania. The nobles generally dared not remain in their lonely châteaux; it was not a question of bravery, for how could the feeble members who remained home from the war guard the castle from the torches of a hundred frantic, yelling wretches, who, with arms in their hands, spared neither age nor sex? For the time they were mad—these Eastern people are subject to terrible epidemics of frenzy!
The Szekler town of Maros Vásárhely, which was strong enough to keep the Wallacks at bay, was thesanctuary of the noble ladies and children of that part of Transylvania. It was so full of fugitives that the overcrowding was most distressing. A lady, the bearer of an historic name, told me herself that she and seven of her family passed the whole winter in one small room in Maros Yásárhely. Added to the discomfort and insalubrity of this crowding, they were almost penniless, having nothing but "Kossuth money." For the time the sources of their income were entirely arrested. In this instance one of the children died—succumbed to bad air and privation. Another patrician dame kept her family through the winter by selling the vegetables from her garden; this together with seventeen florins in silver was all they had to depend upon. Add to this the misery of not hearing for weeks, perhaps even for months, from their husbands or sons, who were with the armies of Görgey or Bem.
The Magyars were not always safe in the towns, for at Nagy Enyed, a rather considerable place, the Wallacks succeeded in setting fire to it, and butchered all the inhabitants who were not fortunate enough to escape their fury. In the neighbourhood of Reps the castles of the nobility suffered very severely. Grim incidents were told me, things that were too horrible not to be true—infants spiked and women tortured. One cannotdwell upon the details! What struck me as very remarkable was the fact that Magyars and Wallacks are now dwelling together again in peace side by side. It reminds one of the people who plant their vines again on Vesuvius directly an eruption is over. In the last century, in 1784, there was a dreadful outbreak of the Wallacks. Individually they are really not bad fellows—so it seemed to me—and one hears of fewer murders among them than perhaps in Ireland. The danger exists of leaders arising who may stir up the nationality fever—the idea of the greatRoumainnation that looms big in their imagination!
They love neither Croatians, Slavonians, nor Austrians, and they are no longer a safe card to play off against the Magyars; but indeed I would fain believe that better and wiser counsels now prevail. Austria is not the Austria of '48, any more than the England of to-day is the same as England before the Reform Bill.
The autumn evenings were getting long, and after supper, as I sat smoking my pipe by the stove in the simple but scrupulously neat apartment of my host, he, in his turn, asked me about England. It is very touching the warmth with which these people in the far-off "land beyond the forest" speak of us. "We never can forget how kindly Englandreceived our patriots." This, or words like it, were said to me many times, and always the name of Palmerston came to the fore. "He cordially hated the Austrians." What better ground of sympathy?
From Szereda I went to Szent Domokos. It was a long ride, and I was again nearly benighted. However, I reached my destination this time just as the last streak of daylight had departed.
I had some difficulty in making the people I met understand that I wanted the postmaster's house. No one, it appeared, could speak a word of German. At length I found the place; but a new difficulty arose. The postmaster, it seemed, was away, as far as I could make out from his wife. She seemed greatly puzzled, not to say alarmed, at seeing an armed horseman ride up, who demanded hospitality; and I daresay she was the more puzzled at not being able "to place me," as the Yankees say, for she asked me if I was a Saxon, an Austrian, or a Turk? My appearance, I suppose, was rather uncouth and alarming. She was young and very pretty—an Armenian, I learned afterwards. Thesewomen are apt to have Oriental notions about men, and she was evidently afraid to ask me in.
There was I, with my tired horse, completely up a tree. I thought to myself, I cannot stay in the street, so pushing my way through a sort of courtyard, I found out what appeared to be the stable. This I took possession of, all the time making the most polite bows and gestures, for we hardly understood a word of each other's language. There was no help for it, I must make myself at home. I put the horse up, I relieved him of his saddle and saddle-bags, and seeing a bucket and a well not far off, I fetched some water. By this time the young woman had called in some neighbours, and I could see them watching me from behind the half-closed doors and windows. I must observe I had lighted my own lantern that I always carried with me, so that my proceedings were made quite visible to the cautious spectators. They never attempted to interfere with me, and I went on doing my work quietly and unostentatiously. The position was ludicrous in the highest degree!
While I was yet foraging for my horse's supper, by good-luck in came the postmaster. He spoke German, and I was soon able to make all square. He was as civil as possible, offering me at once the hospitality of his roof, which in fact I had alreadyassumed. I saw he was very anxious to remove the unpleasant impression of his wife's mistake. He bade me welcome many times over, he thanked me for the honour I did him in offering to sleep under his humble roof, and further persisted in calling me "Herr Lord." It was in vain that I corrected him on this point. "I was an Englishman, therefore I must be a 'Herr Lord,' and there was an end of it."
When Mr Boner was travelling in Szeklerland he was also,nolens volens, raised to the peerage, so I suppose it is a settled conviction of the people that we are all lords in Great Britain.
We had for supper a capitalfilet d'oursfrom a bear that had been shot only two days before. I enjoyed my supper immensely; the wine was as good as the food. My pretty hostess laughed a good deal over the false alarm my appearance had created. Her husband interpreted between us, but I promised to learn Hungarian before I paid them another visit. My host proved himself to be a very intelligent man; I had an exceedingly interesting conversation with him after supper. He complained bitterly of the heavy pressure of taxation, saying that Government ought to manage things more economically, for that every year now there was a deficit.
"Yet your country is rich in natural resources, as rich almost as France, barring her advantages of seaboard."
"Yes, we have wealth under the soil," he replied, "and what we want is capital to develop our resources. Herein Austria has stood in our way; you know the old policy of Austria, as far back as Maria Theresa's time, which was to make Hungary Catholic, to make her poor, and to turn her people into Germans. This last they will never do; but they have succeeded in their second project only too well. They have made us poor enough, they have discouraged manufactures and industries of every kind. We wish for free trade, but Austria is opposed to it. The manufactures of Bohemia must be nursed, and accordingly we are made to suffer. We want to be brought into contact with our customers in Western Europe; we want, in fact, to get our trade out of the hands of the Jews."
"I wish to ask you your candid opinion about the Jews. Some people say they are the curse of the country; others again, that Hungarian commerce would be nowhere without them."
"I will tell you what happens," replied my friend, evading a direct answer to my latter observation. "A wretched Jew comes into this village, or someother place—it does not matter, it is always the same story. He comes probably from Galicia as poor as a rat, he settles himself in the village, and sellsslivovitzon credit to the foolish peasant, who, besotted with drink and debt, gets into his meshes; in the end, the Jew having sucked the blood of his victims, possesses himself of their little property, finds himself the object of universal hatred, and then he moves on. He makes a fresh start in some other place, beginning on a higher rung of the ladder; and you will find him sitting in the highest seats before he has done."
"If your people were less of spendthrifts and managed their affairs themselves, then the Jews would cease to find a harvest amongst you."
"Yes, that is true," he answered; "but we are not practical; we do not organise well. The Jew always manages to be the middle-man between ourselves and the consumers."
"But without the Jew you would perhaps not even get so near to the consumer," I observed quietly.
My host puffed out a volume of smoke, and after a pause observed, before he placed his pipe again between his lips, "In this part of the country, in the Szeklerland, the better class of merchants are nearly all Armenians."
Apropos of the tax question, I have looked into the matter since, and I am rather surprised to find the proportion not so heavy as I thought; on the whole population it is about £1 a-head—certainly less than is borne by many other states. In England, I believe, we are taxed at over £2 a-head. Then, again, it is true that since 1870 there has been an annual deficit, and the equilibrium of income and expenditure can hardly be counted upon just yet; still things are moving in the right direction. The Hungarians have been reproached for managing their finances badly since the compromise with Austria in 1867, when the revenue came exclusively under their own control. But in answer they say, that having so lately entered the community of states, they found themselves in the position of a minor who comes into house and lands that have need of every sort of radical repair and improvement. Hungary has had to spend heavily upon road-making, bridges, railroads, sanatory and other economic improvements, and very heavily for rectification of the course of the Danube; in fact they have ambitiously set themselves too much to do in the time. They have rendered Buda-Pest, with its magnificent river embankments, one of the finest capitals in Europe. The Magyar does everything with a degree of splendour that savours of theOriental. They know not the meaning of the homely adage which tells a man to "cut his coat according to his cloth."
Added to the pressure of accumulated expenses, Hungary has had a succession of bad harvests—she has been passing through the seven lean years. The last season has shown, however, a decided improvement, so we may hope the bad corner is turned. I am informed that this year the schedule for unpaid—viz., arrears of—taxes is completely wiped off. Then, again, the income-tax in the space of five years ending 1874 increased from 5,684,000 florins to 27,650,000 florins!
The financial account of the current year is reassuring. At the sitting of the Hungarian Diet on the 30th October,[20]the minister, in presenting the estimates for 1878, said that in 1876 and 1877 the expenditure had been reduced by £1,250,000. It was not possible to continue at the same rate, and the net reduction next year would be £360,000. It is true the deficit of 1877 is £1,600,000, a sufficiently grave sum; but to judge the position fairly it is necessary to look at the budgets of former years. In 1874, "in consequence of rather too hasty investment of money in railways and otherpublic works," the deficit was £6,000,700; in 1876 it had fallen to £3,100,000. The present year, therefore, shows a steady reduction of those ugly figures at the wrong side of the national account.
Having expressed a wish to see the copper mine at Balanbanya, which is some five miles from Szent Domokos, my host proposed to drive me over the next morning. When the morning came the weather looked most unpromising; there was a steady downpour, without any perceptible break in the clouds in any quarter. I had made up my mind to go, and as after the noonday meal it cleared slightly, we started. The mud was nearly up to the axletree of our cart. After driving some time we reached a wild and rather picturesque valley, in which rises the Alt, or, as it is called when it reaches Roumania, the Aluta. The course of this stream is singularly tortuous, winding about through rocks and defiles, often changing its direction, and finally making a way for itself through the Carpathian range.
As we approached the copper mine it had all the appearance of a volcano, for a heavy cloud ofsmoke hung over the spot like a canopy. This mine has been worked for many years; formerly it paid well, but now it is in the hands of a company, who are working at a loss, if I could believe what I was told.
I have repeatedly noticed in Hungary that people commit themselves to works of this kind without the technical knowledge necessary to carry them on successfully. The necessary capital, too, is generally wanting to bring these mining operations to a successful issue; added to this the managers are often not conspicuous for their honesty.
I went over these works, and gave particular attention to the refinery. Some of the processes for collecting the metal are ingeniously simple and effective. The copper-ore is remarkably pure, being, it is said, free from arsenic and antimony. The concern ought to pay, for the copper is so well esteemed that it obtains the best price in the market.
After inspecting the place, we went into the inn to have some supper, and while there, several miners came in. I had heard that they were renowned for their mining songs down in these parts, so I made friends with the men and begged them to sing. After a little persuasion and a refilling of glasses they began.
The music of their songs was very mournful, and the words equally so, descriptive of the dangers the poor miner had to encounter in searching for ore in the gloomy depths of the earth. I believe my companion, the postmaster, was very puzzled to understand what could interest me in these rough miners. The scene was exceedingly picturesque; for some six or eight of these stalwart fellows, with skin and clothes reddened by the earth, sat by a long table, each with his flask of wine before him, while the flicker of an oil-lamp threw its yellow light over the group. One of the men spoke German, and with him I talked. He had elicited from me the fact of my being an Englishman, whereupon he asked me a variety of questions about our mines and our forests. Finally he inquired whether our bears were as large as theirs. When I told him we had none he could not credit it, saying, "But you must have bears on the frontier?" When I explained that we lived upon an island he seemed much surprised. I saw that his natural politeness prevented his saying what was in his mind, but it was evident he thought that if the English lived in an island they could not be such a great people after all.
Not wishing to put my host to expense, more especially as the expedition was undertaken solelyfor my benefit and at my suggestion, I paid the score at the Balanbanya Inn without saying anything. I was very vexed to find, however, that by doing so I had offended my companion very much. He reminded me that I was a stranger in Szeklerland and his guest, and it was contrary to all his ideas of hospitality that I should be the paymaster. Instead of starting homewards, as we were ready to do, he ordered more wine and some sardines, being the greatest delicacy the house afforded. I was obliged to make a show of partaking of something more, though I had amply supped. For these extras of course my friend paid, but he was only half appeased, and was never quite the same again.
The following morning I left the house of my too-hospitable entertainers. My destination now was St Miklos. My road thither lay through a pine-forest, as lonely a tract as could well be imagined, for there were no signs whatever of human habitations. Certainly the weird solitude of a pine-wood is more impressive than any other kind of forest scenery. Under the impervious shade and the long grey vistas, one moves forward with something of a superstitious feeling, as though one were intruding into the sanctuary of unseen spirits. I cannot say that I was a prey to suchidle fancies, for the spirits I was likely to meet would be very tangible enemies. This district had a bad reputation, owing to several robberies having been committed in the neighbourhood; in fact the whole country was just then under martial law. I was well armed, and being alone I kept my weather-eye open; but I saw not even the ghost of a brigand, and reached St Miklos in safety.
It is usual when incendiary fires or robberies have been rife in any district to place that part of the country under theStatorium, so that if any person or persons are caught inflagrante delicto, they are summarily tried and hung before a week is over. When I was in Transylvania in the autumn of '75, the whole of the north-eastern corner was under theStatorium.
At St Miklos I put up at the house of an Armenian, who received me with a most frank and kindly welcome, conducting me to the guest-chamber himself after giving orders to the servants to attend to my horse. St Miklos is charmingly situated in the valley of Gyergyó, at an elevation of nearly 3000 feet above the sea-level. Here one is right in amongst the mountains, the higher summits rising grandly around. The scenery is very fine. There are interminable forests on every side, broken by ravines and valleys, with strips of greenpasture-land. In former times these primeval woods were tenanted by the wild aurochs, but now one sees only the long-horned white cattle and the wiry little horses belonging to the villages that nestle about in unexpected places. St Miklos is almost entirely inhabited by Armenians. There is a market here, and it is considered the central place of the district. The year before my visit the town was nearly destroyed by fire. Upwards of three hundred houses were burned down in less than three hours. The loss of property was considerable, including stores of hay andkukoricz(Indian corn). Since this conflagration, which caused such widespread distress in the place, they have established a volunteer fire brigade. This ought to exist in every village. Prompt action would often arrest the serious proportions of a fire. It would be a good thing if some substitute could be found for the wooden tiles used for roofing; in course of time they become like tinder, and a spark will fire the roof. The houses in Hungary are not, as a rule, constructed of wood, as in Upper Austria and Styria, nor are they nearly so picturesque as in that part of the world. In some Hungarian villages the cottages are painted partly blue and partly yellow, which has a very odd effect; and throughout the country they are built with the gable-end to the road.
When I was at St Miklos there was great excitement over the recent capture of a famous robber chief, whose band had kept the country-side in a state of alarm for some months past. I was asked if I would like to go and see him, and of course I was glad to get a sight at last of one of the robbers of whom I had heard so much in my travels. I was never more surprised than, on arriving in front of a very shaky wooden building, to be told that this was the prison. A few resolute fellows might have easily broken in and effected the rescue of their chief.
There was no romance about the appearance of the miserable wretch that we found within, stretched on a rough bed with wrists and feet heavily ironed. These manacles were hardly needed, for he was severely wounded, and seemed incapable of rising from his pallet. I never saw so repulsive a countenance; and the flatness of the head was quite remarkable. His eyes were very prominent, and had the restless look of a hunted animal, which was painful in the extreme; but there was absolutely no redeeming expression of human feeling in the dark coarse face. Well, there was something human about him though. I was told he had been photographed that morning, and that he had expressed considerable satisfaction at the idea of his portraitbeing preserved. He was under sentence of death! There were various stories told of his capture, but I think the following is the true account. It appears that he and his gang made their appearance from time to time in the forest round the well-known watering-place of Borsék. When visitors were on their way to the baths, they were frequently stopped by the robbers in a mountain pass, in the immediate neighbourhood of a dense forest that stretches far away for miles and miles over the frontier. It was the custom of the robbers to demand all the money, and they would relieve the travellers of their fur cloaks and overcoats, and other useful articles; but if they did not offer any resistance, they were permitted to go on uninjured, to take their cure at the baths. I should doubt, however, that anybody would be welcome there without a well-filled purse; at least I judge so from what I heard of the eminently commercial character of the place.
The robbers had the game in their own hands for a long while, but they made a mistake one fine day. They stopped a handsome equipage, which seemed to promise a good haul; but lo, behold, it was theObergespannirz, the lord-lieutenant of the county! He had four good horses, and so saved himself by flight. But the authorities now really bestirred themselves, and the soldiers were calledout to exterminate this troublesome brood. They were accompanied by a renowned bear-slayer who knew the forest well. It was with great difficulty that they succeeded at last in tracking the robbers, or rather robber, for it was only the chief who was trapped after all. It appears that the soldiers and their guide came upon a small hut surrounded by almost impenetrable thickets. The hunter crept on in advance of the rest, and looking into the interior through the chinks of timbers, he saw a man drying his clothes by a small fire. He quietly said, "Good-day." The robber started up, and seizing his gun, flung open the door and fired his fowling-piece at once at his visitor. Fortunately the powder proved to be damp, or he must have received the full charge. The bear-slayer was now in close quarters, and fired off his revolver within a short distance of the other's head. The shot took effect, and he fell in a heap stunned and senseless. At first they thought he was dead, and it is marvellous that the well-aimed discharge did not kill him. His skull must have been uncommonly thick. This fellow was known to be the leader. The rest of the gang had probably escaped into Moldavia, from whence they came.
My friends at St Miklos were kind enough to promise to get up a bear-hunt for me, and it wasarranged that I should go and see the baths of Borsék, and return on Saturday night, so as to be ready for the bear-hunt on Sunday. The "better observance of the Sabbath" is always associated with bear-hunting in these parts.
I left St Miklos in a snowstorm, though it was only the 16th of September—very early for such signs of winter. I was not prepared for wintry weather. It frustrated my plans and expectations a good deal. I was disappointed, too, in the climate, for I had always heard that the late autumn is about the finest time for Transylvania.
I have invariably remarked that whenever I go to a new country it is the signal for "abnormal meteorological disturbances," as they call bad weather in the newspapers. My own notion is that weather is a very mixed affair everywhere.
For three mortal hours I rode on through a blinding snowstorm. At length I espied the ruin of an unfinished cottage by the wayside, and here I bethought me I would take shelter and see after my dinner; for whatever happens, I can be hungry directly afterwards—I think an earthquake would give me an appetite.
My unfurnished lodgings were in as wild a spot as imagination could picture. No wonder that the builder had abandoned the construction of thissolitary dwelling; why it had ever been commenced passes my comprehension. It was just at the entrance of a mountain valley, treeless, stony, and rugged, through which there were at intervals the semblance of a track—a desolate, God-forgotten-looking place. On consulting the map I found that the "road" led to Moldavia. I resolved it should not lead me there. Here then, in this dreary spot, with its gable-end to the road, and turning away from the prospect—and no wonder—stood the carcass of a cottage. My horse and I scrambled over the breach in the wall, where a garden never had smiled, and got into the roofless house. It was with considerable difficulty that I found sticks enough for my kitchen fire. I had to try back on the route I had passed, for I remembered not far in the rear a group of firs standing sentinels in the pass. I always took care to have an end of rope in my pocket; with this I tied up my fagot, shouldered it, and returned to the house of entertainment. The result of my trouble was a blazing fire, whereat I cooked an excellent robber-steak. I made myself some tea, and afterwards enjoyed—yes, actually enjoyed—my pipe. There is a pleasure in battling with circumstances, even in such a small affair as getting one's dinner under difficulties.
After washing-up (by good-luck there was astream near by), I packed up my belongings, and giving a last look around to see that I had left nothing, I departed without as much as apourboirefor "service," one of the advantages of self-help.
The prospect for the rest of my ride was not lively, a good ten miles yet to be done on a bad road. It had ceased to snow, but the clouds kept driving down into the valley as if the very heavens themselves were in a state of mobilisation. It is curious to notice sometimes in the higher Carpathians how the clouds march continuously through the winding valleys; always moving and driving on, these compact masses of vapour are impelled by the currents of air in the defiles which seam the mountains.
My way was now through an interminable pine-forest, the road stretching in a perfectly straight line and at a perceptible rise. Indeed it was uphill work altogether. The ceaseless dripping of the rain made the whole scene as cheerless as it well could be. The snow had turned to cold dull rain, which was far more depressing. I wished the mineral springs at Borsék had never been discovered. It was too late to turn back to St Miklos, where I devoutly wished myself, so I had nothing to do but plod on with my waterproof tight round me. It was impossible to gofast, for in places the mud was very deep and the road was beset with big stones.
It was dark when I reached Borsék, and again I wished I had never come. The inn was very uncomfortable; there was no fireplace in any of the rooms. The baths are only used in the height of summer, and if it turns cold, as it does sometimes at this elevation, people I suppose must freeze till it gets warm again. I had come a fortnight too late; the world of fashion departs from Borsék at the end of August. Ten or twelve springs rise within a short area, and vary curiously in quality and temperature. The source which is principally used for exportation is remarkable for the quantity of carbonic acid it contains. About 12,000 bottles are filled every day; some 1500 on an average break soon after corking, owing partly to the bad quality of the bottles. There is a glass manufactory in the place, and though they have good material they turn out the work badly.
The export trade in the mineral waters is very large. They are much valued for long sea voyages, as the water keeps for years without losing its gaseous qualities.[21]
The baths of Borsék belong to two different parishes, and they are by no means agreed as tothe management. Some years ago the principal spring was struck by lightning and entirely lost for a time, but after much digging it was found again. The situation of Borsék is extremely romantic, and in the height of summer it must be very delightful; but in summer only—let no one follow my example and go there out of season. Of course the place is surrounded by magnificent forests, but it is a crying shame to see how they have been treated. In every direction there is evidence of the ravages of fire. You may see in a morning's walk the blackened stems of thousands of trees, the results of Wallack incendiarism. If the Wallacks go on destroying the forests in this way, they will end in injuring the value of the place as a health resort; for the efficacy of the perfumed air of the pine-woods is well known, especially for all nervous diseases.
The houses are badly built at Borsék, and the arrangements for comfort are very incomplete. Most of the habitations appear to have been run up with green wood; the result may be pleasant and airy in summer, when the balmy breeze comes in from cracks in the doors and window-frames, but except in great heat, a perforated house is a mistake. People have to bring their own servants and other effects. I should say a portable stove would not be a bad item amongst the luggage.
The Borsék waters are very much drunk throughout Hungary, especially mixed with wine. Everywhere I noticed that eight people out of ten would take water with their wine at meals. In the district round there is splendid pasturage for cattle. Large numbers of cattle fed in these parts are now sent to Buda-Pest and Vienna. The serious drawback to Borsék is its great distance from a railway. The nearest station is Maros Vásárhely, which is nearly ninety miles away. The drive between the two places is very fine—that is, the scenery is fine, but the road itself is execrable. A telegraph wire connects Borsék with the outside world, but the post only comes twice a-week.
Instead of going back to St Miklos by the same route, I resolved to diverge a little if the weather permitted. I wanted to visit Tölgyes, a village on the frontier of Moldavia, which is said to be very pretty. The weather decidedly improved, so I rode off in that direction. The road, owing to the late rains, was in a dreadful state. All the mountain summits were covered with fresh snow; it was a lovely sight. The dazzling whiteness of these peaks rising above the zone of dark fir-trees was singularly striking and beautiful. The effect of sunshine was exhilarating in the highest degree, and the contrast with my recent experience gave it a keener relish.
At Tölgyes there is a considerable trade with Moldavia in wood. Quite a fresh human interest was imparted to the scene by this industry. By the side of the stream small rafts were in courseof construction, and the trunks of the trees were being placed in position to make the descent of the stream. The woodman's axe was heard in the forest, and many a picturesque hut or group of huts were to be seen by the roadside, where the woodmen and their families live, to be near their work. The labour of getting the timber along these tortuous mountain streams is very great. A ready market is found at Galatz, where a great deal of this wood is sent.
I remained the night at Tölgyes. The whole place was in a state of excitement about brigands; every one had some fresh rumour to help swell the general panic. A company of soldiers were kept constantly patrolling the roads in the neighbourhood. I should say they were pretty safe not to encounter the robbers, who are always well informed under those circumstances.
In studying my pocket-map, I found that there was clearly a short cut over the mountains to St Miklos. On inquiry I extracted the confirmation of the fact with difficulty, and I had still more difficulty in inducing anybody to go with me as a guide. At length I secured the services of a fellow who was willing to go for a tolerably substantial "consideration." I was afraid to work my way entirely by the map, for roads are apt to be vaguein these parts. Ten chances to one whether you know a road when you see it; it might be a green sward, or the rubbly dry bed of a mountain torrent, or a cattle-track; it may lead somewhere or nowhere. Unassisted you may wander all manner of ways.
I made my start very early in the morning, for I had a long way to go, and my guide was on foot; there was not much use in being mounted, considering the pace that the roughness of the road forced us to take. Before leaving Tölgyes I had a row with the innkeeper. He made a most exorbitant demand upon me, at least three times over what was properly due. I told him at once that I declined to pay the full amount he asked. I knew perfectly well what the charge ought to be, and I said I should pay that and no more. Hereupon he got very angry, and informed me that he should not saddle my horse or let me go till I had paid him in full. I immediately went into the stable and saddled the horse myself; I then put down on the window-seat the money which I considered was due to him, giving a fair and liberal margin, but I was not going to be "done" because I was a foreigner. I ordered my guide to proceed, and I myself quickly rode out of the place. The innkeeper worked himself up into atremendous rage, and declared he would have me back, or at least he would have his cold meat and bread back that I had ordered for the journey. I gave my horse the rein, and left the fellow uttering his blessings both loud and deep.
We had ten miles of as bad a road as any I had yet seen in my travels. The mud in some places was two feet deep. We followed the windings of a stream called the Putna Patak, and came presently to a wayside inn frequented by foresters. Here we made a short halt, got a bottle of decent wine and a crust of bread. Immediately on quitting this place we turned into a less frequented path, and began a stiffish ascent. It was a superb day, and I enjoyed it immensely, not having been much favoured by weather lately. Our route was through a thick forest, the trees, as usual in these, magnificent, with their gigantic girth, and widespreading branches. At times I got a glimpse of the snowy mountain summits standing out against the intensely blue sky.
At mid-day I told the guide to look out for the next spring, for there we would dine. We did not find a spring for some time, at least not by the wayside, and I was reluctant to lose time by wandering about. At length when we had secured a water-tap—viz., a little trickling rill flowing between somestones and spongy moss—we found ourselves in a difficulty about the fire. There was plenty of wood, but it was all soaking wet and would not burn. Luckily a fir-tree was spied out, which provided us with a good quantity of turpentine, and with this we persuaded the fire to blaze up a bit. We cooked the dinner, had a smoke, a short rest, and thenen avant—always through the forest.
Later in the afternoon, emerging from the wood, we came upon a grassy plateau which commanded a glorious view of the Transylvanian side of the Carpathians. I was glad to see the familiar valley of Gyergyó away westward, with its numerous villages and green pasturage. The same physical peculiarity pervades the whole of Hungary. Whenever you get a vale of any extent, it is as flat as if it were a bit of the great plain. Everywhere you have the impression that formerly the waters of a lake must have covered the level verdure of the valley. As soon as I caught sight of St Miklos I dismissed my guide, for his services were no longer required, and I could get on quicker without him. I had still a long distance to go, for I was not far below the summit. I was extremely anxious to get into safe quarters before dark, so I made the best of the way, leading my horse down the steep bits,and mounting again for a short trot where it was possible.
On arriving at the house of my Armenian friends at St Miklos, happily before sundown, I was greatly disappointed to find that there would be no bear-hunt the next day. Those detestable robbers had turned up again, and the people who were to have formed part of the sporting expedition were obliged to go robber-hunting, a sport not much to their taste I fancy.
It appeared that the fellows had entered an out-of-the-way inn, or rather wine-shop, and boldly ordered the owner to procure for them a certain amount of gunpowder, which they required should be ready for them the next day, and failing to carry out their orders, they threatened to shoot him. He was obliged to promise, for there were five of them, and except women he was alone in the house. They drank a quantity of his wine, and asked for no reckoning, saying they would pay for it the next day along with the gunpowder.
Directly they had left the premises, the innkeeper set off as fast as his legs could carry him to St Miklos to ask for help. The robbers seemed to be such bunglers that one would judge them to be new to the business; but the innkeeper's terror knew no bounds, and he declared they were awful-lookingcut-throats. Two of the men were caught the next day. I saw them brought into the village heavily manacled; they were harmless-looking Wallacks, not very different in appearance from my guide over the mountain. Though armed with guns, they made no resistance; and when they were discovered they had called out lustily to the soldiers not to fire, for they would give themselves up. I expect they were let off with imprisonment, but I never heard the end of the story. I owed them a grudge for spoiling my bear-hunt, which I missed altogether, for I could not wait until the following Sunday.
I left St Miklos with an introduction to some rich Armenians at Toplicza, where I intended making my next halt.
At Toplicza I was very hospitably received by the family to whom I took the letter of introduction from my friends at the last place. Unfortunately I could not converse with the elders of the family, for they spoke no German, and my Hungarian was limited. However, there was a charming young lady with whom I found no difficulty in getting on; she understood not only the language but the literature of Germany.
A bear-hunt was soon proposed in my honour. The headman of the village was brought into our council, and he quickly sent round orders that everybody was to appear the following day—which conveniently happened to befêteday—for a hunt. Those who had guns would be placed at different "stands," and those who had no guns were expected to act as beaters.
TheRichter, or headman, was a fine specimen of a Wallack; he was six feet three, broad chested, with flowing black hair—a handsome fellow of that type. I told him I should not like to fight him if he knew how to use his fists. He was pleased at the little compliment. The next day the Wallacks came pouring in from all the outlying parts of the village. It was really a very picturesque sight. The men wore thongs of leather round their feet in place of boots; and those who had no guns were armed with the usual long staff surmounted by the formidable axe-head.
A great deal of time was wasted in preparations. The Wallacks are the most dilatory people in the whole world. It was nearly three o'clock before we got to the forests where we hoped to give Bruin a rendezvous. The guns that some of the party carried were "a caution"—more fit for a museum of armoury than for anything else. The Wallacks try to remedy the inefficiency of their guns by cramming in very large charges of powder, at least two bullets, and some buckshot besides. I often thought the danger was greater to themselves than to the bear. They never fire over twenty-five yards, and in fact generally allow the bear to come within twelve yards, when they pepper away at him.
At last we were in position. It is usual to havea second gun, but I had only my rifle and revolver; unfortunately my gun was with my baggage at Maros Vásárhely. After waiting for some time without hearing anything but the creaking of the pine-trees in the wind, the advance of the beaters was at length audible. You hear repeated thuds with their axes on the trees, and you know that they are beating up your way. All at once I heard the unmistakable tread of some heavy four-footed beast. I held my breath, fearing to betray my presence. Nearer and nearer came the heavy tread, the branches cracking as the animal broke its way through the thicket. It must be a bear of the largest size, thought I, with a glow of delight warming up my whole frame at this supreme moment. I had just raised the rifle to my shoulder, when—judge my disgust—when emerging from the thicket I saw a stray ox make his appearance! I could hardly resist putting a bullet into the stupid brute's carcass, but I remembered that I should have to pay for that little game.
We moved on to another part of the forest, and the same programme of taking our positions and arranging the course of the beaters was gone through; but we met with no success. This was the more provoking, because on our return we found the fresh slot of a bear. He had evidently justsaved himself in time; the marks of his claws were quite visible in the soft mud.
These footprints were all we were destined to see, for evening was drawing on, and it was impossible to pursue the sport any farther. Of course we commenced operations far too late in the day; it was simply ridiculous to begin at such a late hour in the autumn afternoon. It was very disappointing; but there is so much of mere chance in bear-hunting, that where one man has the luck to kill four or five in a season, another may go on for two years following without getting as much as a shot.
The sportsman will be glad to hear, though the farmer is of quite another mind, that bears, wolves, and wild-boar are increasing very much in the Carpathians generally. I have mentioned this fact before, but I allude to it again because it was everywhere corroborated. On all sides this increase is attributed to the tax on firearms, which deters the peasants from keeping them down. They are often too poor to pay for a shooting licence and the gun-tax.
Toplicza has some warm mineral springs. Warm water seems to be turned on everywhere in Hungary. One of these springs is situated close to the river, where a simple kind of bath-house has been constructed. The water contains iodine. While atToplicza I heard that somewhere up in the mountains on the Bukovina side there is a large deposit of sulphur. The accounts were very vague, but I thought I should like to have a look at the place. The district was pronounced to be so unsafe, and so many robbers had appeared on the scene lately, that I thought proper to take two men with me; one as a guide, for he had been there before, and a forester armed with a gun.
My friends the Armenians kindly insisted on providing me with everything necessary in the shape of food; and one day, the weather being fine, I started at noon on this expedition along with my attendants. We soon got into the forest again. The size of the trees was almost beyond belief; but, alas! many of them had been destroyed in the same ruthless manner that I have so often alluded to in my travels. Here were half-burned trunks of splendid oak-trees lying rotting on the ground in every direction, showing clearly that the forest had been fired. The attempt at a clearing, if that was the object, was utterly abortive; for when the trees are down a thick undercover grows up, more impervious by far, and there is less chance of obtaining pasturage than ever, but the Wallack never reasons upon this. The State reckons the value of its "forests" at something like27,000,000 florins, and yet there is no efficient supervision of this property, which, from the increasing scarcity of wood in Europe, must become in time more and more valuable. The mines of Hungary are estimated in round numbers at 210,000,000 florins, and here again there is a lamentable absence of wise administration. The mining laws, I understand, are at present under revision. Foreign enterprise is not discouraged, but I cannot go so far as to say that the adventure would not meet with difficulties from local obstructions of an official or semi-official nature.
We had started from Toplicza in beautiful weather, but before sunset a complete change came on, and heavy rain set in. This was a very uncomfortable look-out, for we could see nothing that offered us anything like a decent shelter for the night. The guide urged us to go on, for he said there was a hut at the top of the mountain; so we beat our way along through the driving rain, and eventually came to the top. We soon found the hut, but it was a mere ruin; it might have been in Chancery for any number of years, indeed one end had tumbled in. It was as uninviting a place to spend a night in as could well be imagined. Fortunately one corner was still weather-proof, the fir bark of the roof yet remaining intact. We had to be careful, however,about the roof, which consisted of stems of trees supported longitudinally. It was easy to see that a very little incautious vivacity on our part would bring the whole structure down on our heads. Water was found not far off, and we soon had a fire, which blazed up cheerfully. Its warmth was very necessary, for it was bitterly cold and damp. I had brought with me a hammock made of twine; this I slung in the driest corner, and after supper I turned in and was soon asleep. The faculty of sleep is an immense comfort. A man may put it high up on the credit side in striking the balance of good and evil in his lot.
When I awoke the next morning, I found that the weather was worse than ever. The mist was so dense that the Wallack guide said it was perfectly impossible to go on, in fact we might consider ourselves lucky if we were able to get back without mischance. Not to be daunted, I waited till nearly noon, thinking it was possible that the mist might rise, and restore to us the bright skies of yesterday. A change came, but not the one we hoped for. The cold rain turned into snow, so it would have been sheer madness to think of going on.
We were in a wretched plight, crowded together in the corner of the ruined hut, and snow as well as "light" came in "through the chinks that time hadmade." Owing to a change in the wind, the smoke of the fire outside drifted in; and there was evidence of a worse drift—that of the snow, which before nightfall I daresay may have buried the cottage out of sight.
I now gave orders for returning, and just as I stepped out of the hut, or was in the act of leaving, one of the heavy beams from the roof fell upon me; it caught me on the back of my head—a pretty close shave! The ride back, with the consciousness of having failed to attain the object I had in view, was depressing. Nothing could be more unlovely than these once glorious forests. In parts we had to pass through a mere morass, into which my horse kept sinking.
At last we got back to Toplicza. The forester and the Wallack thought themselves amply compensated by a few paper florins. I daresay they kept off the rheumatism by extra potations ofslivovitz. As for myself, having been dipped, yea, having even undergone total immersion in the morass, I felt like those extinct animals who have left their interesting bones nice and dry in the blue lias, but who in daily life must have been "mud all over." I presented such a spectacle on my return, that I consider it was an instance of the greatest kindness—indeed it musthave been a severe strain on the hospitality of my friends to give me house-room.
As my garments had not the durability of those of the Israelites in the wilderness, it became a very desirable object to effect a junction with my portmanteau, which was sitting all this time at Maros Vásárhely. The weather, too, had calmed my ardour for the mountains, and I resolved to strike into the interior of Transylvania, and see something of the towns.
I must now drop the itinerary of my journey and speak more in generalities; for after leaving the wilder districts of the Szeklerland, I took the opportunity of presenting some of the letters of introduction that I brought with me from England.
For the succeeding six weeks or more I spent my time most agreeably in the châteaux of some of the well-known Transylvanian nobles. For the time my wild rovings were over. The bivouac in the glorious forest and robber-steak cooked by the camp fire—the pleasures of "roughing it"—were exchanged for the charms of society.
And society isverycharming in Transylvania. Nearly all the ladies speak English well, and are extremely well read in our literature. To speak French is a matter of course everywhere; butthey infinitely prefer our literature, and speak our language always in preference when they can.
The works of such men as Darwin, Lyell, and Tyndall are read. I remember seeing these, and many other leading authors, in a bookseller's shop in Klausenburg. It is true this last-named place is the capital—viz., the Magyar capital—of Transylvania, but in most respects it is a mere provincial town.
A friend and myself happened to be lunching one day in the principal inn—it was in thesalle à manger—and we were talking together in English. Presently I noticed a remarkably little man at the next table, who looked towards us several times; finally he got up from his chair, or rather I should say got down, and making a sign to us equivalent to touching his hat, he said, "Gentlemen, I am an Englishman; I thought it right to tell you in case you should think there was no one present who understood what you were talking!" It was very civil of the little fellow, for we were talking rather unguardedly about some well-known personages. I then asked him how he came to be in this part of the world, and he told me he was a jockey, and had been over several times to ride at the Klausenburg races; but he added he was very sorry that they always took place on a Sunday! There is certainly no "bitterobservance of the Sabbath" in Hungarygenerally. Offices are open, and business is conducted as usual—certainly in the morning.
There is some good coursing in the neighbourhood of Klausenburg, which is kept up closely on the pattern of English sport. I had two or three good runs with the harriers, and on one occasion got a spill that was a close shave of breaking my neck. Count T—— had given me a mount. The horse was all right, but not knowing the nature of the country, I was not aware that the ground drops suddenly in many places. Coming to something of this kind without preparation, the horse threw me, and I was pitched down an embankment upwards of twelve feet in depth. Several people who saw the mishap thought it was all up with me, but, curiously enough, I was absolutely unhurt. A pull at my flask set me all right, and I walked back the five miles to Klausenburg. The horse unfortunately galloped away, and was not brought back till the next day, and then minus his saddle; however, it was recovered subsequently.
In the present scare about hydrophobia the following is worth notice. One day when walking in the principal street of Klausenburg I heard a great barking amongst the dogs, of which there were some dozen following a closed van. On inquiry I found that once a-week the authorities send round to seeif there are any dogs at large without the regulation tax-collar. If any such vagabonds are found they are consigned to the covered cart, and are forthwith shot. This excellent arrangement has the effect of keeping down the number of dogs; besides, there is the safeguard attendant upon the responsibility of ownership. The funny part of the matter is that the tax-paying dogs are not the least alarmed at the appearance of the whipper-in, but join with great show of public spirit in denouncing the collarless vagrants.
Klausenburg has not the picturesque situation of Kronstadt, but it is a pleasant clean-looking town, with wide streets diverging from the Platz, where stands the Cathedral, completed by Matthias Corvinus, son of Hunyadi. This famous king, always called "the Just," was born at Klausenburg in 1443.
As Herrmannstadt and Kronstadt are chiefly inhabited by Saxon immigrants, and Maros Vásárhely is the central place of the Szeklers, so may Klausenburg, or rather Kolozsvár, as it is rightly named, be considered the Magyar capital of Transylvania.
The gaieties of the winter season had not commenced when I was there, but I understand the world amuses itself immensely. The nobles comein from their remote châteaux to their houses, or apartments, as it may be, in town, and then the ball is set going.
There is a good theatre in Klausenburg. I found the acting decidedly above the average of the provincial stage generally. I saw a piece of Moliere's given, and though I could only understand the Hungarian very imperfectly, I was enabled to follow it well enough to judge of the acting.
Shakespeare is so great a favourite with the Hungarians that his plays are certainly more often represented on the stage at Buda-Pest than in London. The Hungarian translation of our great poet, as I observed before, is most excellent.
It was a band of patriotic poets who first employed the language of the Magyars in their compositions. Hitherto all literary utterance had been confined to Latin, or to the foreign tongues spoken at courts. The rash attempt of Joseph II. to denationalise the Magyar and to Germanise Hungary by imperial edicts had a violent reactionary result. The strongest and the most enduring expression is to be found in the popular literature which was inaugurated by such men as Csokonai and the two brothers Kisfaludy, who were all three born in the last century. The songs of Csokonai haveretained their hold on the people's hearts because, and here is the keynote—"because they breathe the true Hungarian feeling." The insistent themes of the Magyar poets were the love of country, the joys of home, the duty of patriotism. Such was the soul-stirring 'Appeal' ('Szózat') of Varósmazty, the chief of all the tuneful brethren, the Schiller of Hungary. Born with the nineteenth century, and at once its child and its teacher, he died in 1855—too soon, alas! to see the benefits accruing to his beloved country from the wise reconciliatory policy of his dear friend Deák. His funeral was attended by more than 20,000 people, and the country provided for his family.
Whenever the poets of Hungary are mentioned the name of Petoefy will occur, and he was second to none in originality of thought and poetic utterance. An intense love of his native scenery, not excepting even the dreary boundless Alföld, afforded inspiration for his genius. His poetic temperament and pathetic story give him a certain likeness to the brave young Körner, dear to every German heart. Petoefy was engaged in editing a Hungarian translation of Shakespeare when he was interrupted by the political events of 1848. His pen and sword were alike devoted to the cause of patriotism, and entering the army under GeneralBern, he became his adjutant and secretary. During the memorable winter campaign in Transylvania he wrote proclamations and warlike songs. We all know the story of the Russian invasion of Transylvania at Austria's appeal, and how the brave Hungarians fought and fell at the battle of Schässburg. This engagement took place on the 31st of July '49. Petoefy was present, and indeed had been seen in the thick of the fight; but in the evening he was missing from the roll-call, and, strange to say, his remains, though searched for, were never identified. The mystery which hung over his fate caused many romantic stories to be circulated, and not a few claimants to his name and fame have arisen. Even within the last three months a report has reached his native village that he had been seen in the mines of Siberia, where he has been kept a prisoner all these years by the Russians!
The language of the Magyars was heard not in poetry alone, but in the sternest prose. "Hungary is not, but Hungary shall be," said Count Széchcnyi. The men who worked out this problem were politicians, writers, and orators. Foremost among them may be reckoned Baron Eötvos, one of the most liberal-minded and enlightened thinkers of the day. His efforts were specially directed to improving theeducation of all classes of the community. With this end and aim he worked unceasingly. He held the post of Minister of Cultus and Education in the first independent Hungarian Ministry in 1848, but withdrew in consequence of political differences with his colleagues. Again in 1867 he held the sameporte-feuilleunder Count Andrassy, but died in 1870 universally regretted. His best known literary productions arc two novels, 'The Carthusian' and 'The Village Notary,' The latter highly-interesting, indeed dramatic story, may be recommended to any one who desires to know what really were the sufferings entailed upon the peasantry under the old system of forced labour. It is one of those fictions which, as old Walter Savage Landor used to say, "are more true than fact." It was the 'Uncle Tom's Cabin' of that day, and of the cause he had at heart—the abolition of serfdom. In reading this most thrilling story, one can understand the evil times that gave birth to the terrible saying of the peasant, "that a lord is a lord, even in hell."
Yet it was the nobles themselves who abolished at one sweep all the privileges of their order. It was by their unanimous consent that the manumission of nearly eight millions of serfs was granted, at the same time converting the feudalholdings of some 500,000 families into absolute freeholds.
In Hungary it would appear that public opinion is generously receptive of new impulses, and in this particular the Hungarians resemble us, as they claim to do in many things, calling themselves "the English of the East."
"It is curious," said Baroness B—— to me one day, "that with all our respect for British institutions, and everything that is English, that we fail to copy their straight good sense. We have too many talkers, too few workers. We are not yet a money-making nation; we have no idea of serious work, and our spirit for business is not yet developed. Almost all industrial or commercial enterprises are in the hands of Jews, Armenians, Greeks, who are great scoundrels generally."
"The Armenians are instinctive traders," I remarked.
"Yes, true; just as we are the very reverse. But this change has come over us. Taking again our cue from England, we see that trade can be respectable, and those who follow it are respected—with you at least. We try toEnglishifyourselves, and some of the younger members of the community make a funny hash of it. For instance, a rich young country swell in our neighbourhoodwent over to England and came back in raptures with everything, and tried to turn everything upside down at home without accommodating his new ideas to the circumstances that were firmly rooted here. You may see him now sit down to dinner with an English dresscoat over his red Hungarian waistcoat. His freaks went far beyond this, and he came to be known as the 'savage Englishman.'"
I asked my hostess if our English novels were much read.
"Everybody likes your English fiction," replied Baroness B——. "It is immensely read, and has helped to promote the knowledge of the language more perhaps than anything else. We, too, have our writers of fiction. Jokai is the most prolific, but he has got to be too much an imitator of the French school. One of his earlier novels, 'The New Landlord,' has been translated into English, and gives a good picture of Hungarian life in the transition state of things. For elegance of style he is not to be compared to Gzulai Paul and Baron Eötvos."
"There seems to be a growing interest in natural history and literature," I remarked, "judging from the enormous increase of newspapers and journals which pass through the post, both foreign and local."
"With regard to local journals," replied the Baroness, "we have the 'Osszehasonlitó irodalomtörténelmi Lapok' ('Comparative Literary Journal'), which is published at Klausenburg, at Herrmannstadt, and at Kesmark in Upper Hungary. There are Natural History Societies, who publish their reports annually. Added to this, there are few towns of any size that have not their public libraries. I speak specially of Transylvania, where we affect a higher degree of culture than in Hungary Proper."