DICK.
Moscow — May, 1896.
[DEAR CHAS:]
I have just sent off my coronation story, and the strain
of this thing, which has really been on me for
six months, is off. You can imagine what a relief it is, or,
rather, you cannot, for no one who has not been with us these
last ten days can know what we have had to do. The story I
sent is not a good one. It was impossible to tell it by
cable, and the first one on the entry was a much better one.
I do not care much, though; of course, I do care, as I ought
to have made a great hit with it, but there was no time, and
there was so much detail and minutia that I could not treat it
right. However, after the awful possibility, or rather
certainty, that we have had to face of not getting any story
at all, I am only too thankful. I would not do it again for
ten thousand dollars. Edwin Arnold, who did it for
The
Telegraph, had $25,000, and if I told you of the way Hearst
acted and Ralph interfered with impertinent cables, you would
wonder I am sane. They never sent me a cent for the cables
until it was so late that I could not get it out of the bank,
and we have spent and borrowed every penny we have. Imagine
having to write a story and to fight to be allowed a chance to
write it, and at the same time to be pressed for money for
expenses and tolls so that you were worn out by that alone.
The brightest side of the whole thing was the way everybody in
this town was fighting for me. The entire town took sides,
and even men who disliked me, and who I certainly dislike,
like C. W. and R — — of the Paris Embassy, turned in and
fought for my getting in like relations. And the women — I had
grand dukes and ambassadors and princes, whom I do not know by
sight, moving every lever, and as Stanhope of
The Herald,
testified "every man, woman and child in the visiting and
resident legation is crazy on the subject of getting Davis
into the coronation." They made it a personal matter, and
when I got my little blue badge, the women kissed me and each
other, and cheered, and the men came to congratulate me, and
acted exactly as though they had got it themselves.
It was a beautiful sight; the Czarina much more beautiful
and more sad-looking than ever before. But it was not solemn
enough, and the priests groaned and wailed and chanted and
sang, and every one stood still and listened. All that the
Czar and Czarina did was over ten minutes after they entered
the chapel, and then for three hours the priests took the
center of the stage and groaned. I was there from seven until
one. Six solid hours standing and writing on my hat. It was
a fine hat, for we were in court costume, I being a
distinguished visitor, as well as a correspondent. That was
another thing that annoyed me, because Breckinridge, who has
acted like a brick, did not think he could put me on both
lists, so I chose the correspondents' list, of course, in
hopes of seeing the ceremony, but knowing all the time that
that meant no balls or functions, so that had I lost the
ceremony I would have had nothing; but he arranged it so that
I am on both lists. Not that I care now. For I am tired to
death; and Trowbridge did not get on either list, thanks to
the damned Journal and to his using all his friends to
help
me, so that I guess I will get out and go to Buda Pest and
meet you in Paris. Do not consider this too seriously, for I
am writing it just after finishing my cable and having spent
the morning on my toes in the chapel. I will feel better
tomorrow. Anyway, it is done and I am glad, as it was the
sight of the century, and I was in it, and now I can spend my
good time and money in gay Paree. Love to all.
DICK.
From Moscow Richard went direct to Buda Pest, where he
wrote an article on the Hungarian Millennial.
