BUDA PEST
[DEAR CHAS: May 8th,
1896.]
I have just returned from the procession of the Hungarian
Nobles. It was even more beautiful and more interesting than
the Czar's entry than which I would not have believed anything
could have been more impressive — But the first was military,
except for the carriages, which were like something out of
fairyland — to-day, the costumes were all different and
mediaeval, some nine hundred years old and none nearer than
the 15th Century. The mis en scene was also much better.
Buda is a clean, old burgh, with yellow houses rising on a
steep green hill, red roofs and towers and domes, showing out
of the trees — It is very high but very steep and the
procession wound in and out like a fairy picture — I sat on
the top of the hill, looking down it to the Danube, which
separates Buda from Pest — The Emperor sat across the square
about 75 yards from our tribune in the balcony of his palace.
We sat in the Palace yard and the procession passed and turned
in front of us — There were about 1,500 nobles, each dressed
to suit himself, in costumes that had descended for
generations — of brocade, silk, fur, and gold and silver
cloth — Each costume averaged, with the trappings of the
horse, 5,000 dollars. Some cost $1,000, some $15,000. Some
wore complete suits of chain armor, with bearskins and great
black eagle feathers on their spears just as they were when
they invaded Rome — Others wore gold chain armor and leopard
or wolf skins and their horses were studded
with turquoises and trappings of gold and silver and smothered
in silver coins — It would have been ridiculous if they had
not been the real thing in every detail and if you had not
known how terribly in earnest the men were. There is no other
country in the world where men change from the most blase and
correct of beings, to fairy princes in tights and feathers and
jewelled belts and satin coats — They were an hour in passing
and each one seemed more beautiful than the others — I am very
glad I came although I was disappointed at missing the
accident at Moscow. It must have been more terrible than
Johnstown. I found the — — s quite converted into the most
awful snobs but the people they worship are as simple and well
bred as all gentle people are and I have had the most
delightful time with them. It is so small and quiet after
Moscow, and instead of being lost in an avalanche of embassies
and suites and missions, I have a distinct personality, as
"the American," which I share with "the" Frenchman and four
Englishmen. We are the only six strangers and they give us
the run of all that is going on — At night we dine at the most
remarkable club in the world, on the border of the Park, where
the best of all the Gypsey musicians plays for us — The music
is alone worth having come to hear, and the dear souls who
play it, having been told that I like it follow me all around
the terrace and sit down three feet away and fix their eyes on
you, and then proceed to pull your nerves and heart out of you
for an hour at a time — One night a man here dipped a ten
thousand franc note in his champagne and pasted it on the
leader's violin and bowed his thanks, and the leader bowed in
return and the next morning sent him the note back in an
envelope, saying that the compliment was worth more
than the money — The leader's name is Berchey and the
Hungarians have never allowed him to leave the country for
fear he would not be allowed to come back — He is a fat, half
drunken looking man, with his eyes full of tears half the time
he plays. He looks just like a setter dog and he is so
terribly in earnest that when he fixes me with his eyes and
plays at me, the court ladies all get up and move their chairs
out of his way just as though he were a somnambulist —
I leave here Wednesday and reach Paris Friday
morning
the eleventh — You must try to meet me at the Cafe de la Paix
at half past nine — Wait in the corner room if you don't wish
to sit outside and as soon as I get washed I will join you for
coffee. It will be fine to see you again and to be done with
jumping about from hotel to hotel and to be able to read the
signs and to know how to ask for food. Russian, German and
Hungarian have made French seem like my mother tongue —
DICK.
