PESTH—HOTEL UNGARIA—BUDA—STORY OF AN ARTIST—PROSPERITY OF THE
CITY—NEW BRIDGE OVER THE DANUBE—ST. MARGUERITE'S ISLAND—ANCIENT
ROMAN BATH—CONDITION OF HUNGARY—FIELD FOR THE JUNIOR BRANCHES
OF THE UPPER TEN THOUSAND—KEEPING UP APPEARANCES—THE TERMINATION
OF TURKISH MISRULE—FUTURE OF THE DANUBIAN PRINCIPALITIES.
I drove to the Hotel Ungaria, to which I had been recommended, and
where a most comfortable apartment and an equally good dinner gave
me an _avant-goût_ of a comfortable night's rest, in which I was no
wise disappointed; and I can safely recommend the Ungaria as one of
the finest and most comfortable hotels in Europe, without at the same
time being extravagant in its charges. The only drawback I found was
with the person of the porter, a most respectable man no doubt, but he
could not speak either French or English; and I had to carry on all my
consultations respecting my intended future progress with the hall-porter
of the "Königin von England" hotel, close by. If that man could only
be installed at the Ungaria, that hotel would be as near perfection as
possible.
The windows of my bedroom at the Ungaria opened out on a balcony which
gave me a splendid view of the "blue Danube," which, however, I never saw
of any other shade but mud colour. Across the river, and just opposite,
I could see the ancient city of Buda, with the royal residence in front,
and a little to the left, on the top of the hill, the celebrated fortress
which played so important a part during the last Hungarian civil war.
A little to my right was the grand suspension bridge, guarded at each
end by two colossal couchant lions, about which the following improbable
anecdote was related to me.
The artist who executed them forgot to put tongues into their mouths,
to loll out in proper heraldic fashion, and when the defect was pointed
out to him as the lions were uncovered, he took it so to heart that he
at once put an end to himself by plunging headlong into the river! Now
when "le grand Vatel" committed suicide, because the turbot did not
arrive in time for the dinner of the Most Christian King, there was some
show of reason in the act, Vatel's credit was in some degree pledged to
that dinner; but not one man in ten thousand would have noticed whether
these lions had tongues or not.
Pesth seems, like Vienna, to be undergoing a process of rebuilding, and
that on a scale of considerable magnificence. I was told that its commerce
was daily increasing, and, certainly, to judge from the immense number
of vessels moored in the river, the ceaseless passing up and down of
immense steamers, the piles of merchandize, and the constant bustle on
the quays, a very considerable amount of business must be done there. The
grand suspension bridge which spans the Danube being found insufficient
for the increasing traffic, a new one is in process of construction,
to be built of iron on piers, and not a suspension bridge. It is to
cost an immense sum, and will require to be well protected against the
action of the ice on the one hand, while on the other it may become
the source of considerable danger to the low land in its neighbourhood
by arresting the free passage downwards of the ice, if not well looked
after. I went to see the works at the central pier, and remained there
some time watching the men at the bottom of the immense caisson out of
which a donkey engine was incessantly pumping water; outside it, the
river was running like a mill race at not less than eight miles an hour,
and I was assured that the depth at that spot was fully forty feet.
After visiting the works at the new bridge, I went to St. Marguerite's
Island, on which is a park beautifully laid out, and which forms one of
the favourite promenades of the pleasure-loving inhabitants of Pesth. As
it can only be approached by boat, it is frequented only by pedestrians;
but in order to cater for all tastes and gratify those who enjoy a jaunt,
there is a tramway running the whole length of the island. There are
also some capital restaurants, and several bands play every evening in
fine weather.
There is another park on _terra firma_, an imitation of the Prater
at Vienna, but it is small and shabby. There were a good many people
strolling about it when I went, but I did not see even one middling-good
turn-out, and though one constantly hears of the beautiful horses and
rare horsemanship of the Hungarians, I was doomed to be disappointed in
both cases.
Crossing over the suspension bridge one gets into the old town of Buda or
Ofen, in which are situated the Royal residence, the Government offices,
and some of the palaces of the native magnates.
There is a fine street by which one can drive to the upper part of the
town, which is considerably above the level of the Danube; but for
pedestrians there is an easy, cheap, and quick method of getting to
the summit, by means of a small counterpoised railway, which carries
one up and down very rapidly at an exceedingly moderate rate. There is
a fine view from the top, and several fine old palaces, but the most
interesting thing in the town of Buda is the old Roman bath erected over
some sulphurous springs, celebrated for the cures they perform. It is in
exactly the same condition as in the days of ancient Rome, and consists
of a large vaulted apartment lit by a circular opening in the centre of
the cupola, and containing a large hexagonal piscina with an ambulatory
all round. None bathe there save the lower classes—men, women, and
children promiscuously; in the immediate neighbourhood, however, there
are some very well appointed baths which are considerably patronized,
and bear a high reputation for the cure of skin disease.
From all I could collect during the brief stay I made at Pesth, Hungary in
general must be in a very progressive condition; and from the numbers of
agricultural machines and implements, all of English construction, which
I saw everywhere stacked upon the quays, not only at Pesth but at many
other stations on the Danube, including large numbers of steam-thrashing
and winnowing machines, a vigorous attempt is evidently being made to
exploit the unbounded fertility of perhaps the richest soil in Europe.
Land, however, is still cheap in Hungary, probably in consequence of
the extreme love of pleasure of its inhabitants, who preferring to spend
their days in the society of Vienna, Paris, or Pesth, draw exorbitantly
on their revenues, till at last compelled to sell their lands in order
to meet their engagements. Nice estates within twenty miles of Pesth,
with good substantial dwelling-houses, and all the necessary offices for
farming, with varied soil, vineyard, pasture, tillage, and forest, can
be had sufficiently cheap to ensure a clear return of five per cent,
free of taxes, for the capital laid out on them! A vast number of the
agricultural community in Hungary are Jews, and it is perhaps the only
country in Europe where we find the children of Israel as tillers of
the soil; and I was assured by many in Pesth that they make by far the
most satisfactory tenants—though naturally they require looking after
occasionally, as well as their _soi-disant_ Christian brethren.
When one reflects on the countless acres of the richest land in
creation, which to a great extent are still unoccupied and uncultivated
in the eastern and south-eastern regions of Europe, one cannot help
regretting that some of our surplus population do not try a venture in
those countries. I am thinking principally of that most unfortunate and
ill-used portion of society belonging to the upper classes, and which,
from circumstances beyond its control, is suffering from positive want in
its struggles to keep up a respectability as necessary for its existence
as the very air it breathes. The labourer, the artisan, the skilled
workman are well off at the present time in our country; wages are very
high and the friendly societies, to one of which almost every workman
belongs, provide for them amply in cases of sickness, and in some cases
even contribute something to the family when the illness terminates in
death—not to mention the numerous hospitals and asylums, all open to the
labouring classes, but which are all virtually closed to those I am now
speaking of.
The working classes, with few exceptions, are all well off at present,
and require none of our sympathy except when in affliction, when the
richest and poorest come to the same level. They can afford to supply
all their wants out of their wages, and lay out _one fifth_, and in
many cases _one fourth_, and even _one third_ (I am assured by good
authorities) in drink, for the gratification of the only pleasure which
they are capable of enjoying; for proof of which the police reports
throughout the country will bear ample evidence.
But I will tell who really deserve all our sympathy and all our aid,
the junior branches of our upper ten thousand—the families of officers,
poor clergymen, poor lawyers, &c., &c., all struggling for dear life
against difficulties of every kind; those are the classes who claim the
greatest share of our sympathy, and to whom the regions above mentioned
offer advantages unequalled any where else.
I remember when the Canterbury settlement was established in New Zealand,
it was intended in a great measure to provide for the classes I have
alluded to above; but the distance was too great, the mere cost of going
out was a most serious drawback, at the very least _ten times_ the amount
required to land one bag and baggage in the centre of Hungary, or better
still in Servia, among some of the most beautiful scenery in the world,
the richest soil, the best climate, and the finest fishing and shooting
that could be desired, where game laws and river preserves and licences
are still utterly unknown.
I hate croaking; still, if one hears rumbling noises underground for
any space of time, one is justified in apprehending an earthquake. For
several years I have been hearing these subterranean noises, and year
after year they have become more and more threatening, and the earthquake
must come at last. But as a volcanic eruption, acting as a safety valve,
often saves a country from the effects of a physical earthquake, so the
timely exodus of an excessive population may save a country from a moral
one.
By the very nature of my profession, I have innumerable times been
willingly or unwillingly let into the secrets of the private affairs of
scores of families; and I have watched with perfect dismay the misery,
the poverty, the utter wretchedness that were screened from the eyes of
the world by the decent exterior which was kept up in order to preserve
appearances.
If with Asmodeus we could but lift up the roofs of a few thousands
of houses in these prosperous islands and see the difficulties, the
make-shifts, and the make-believes which are resorted to, and that in
many cases where one would least expect them, it would make our very
hearts bleed at all the anxiety, all the wretchedness, all the scalding
tears which would be disclosed—all brought about by that great delusion
"keeping up appearances." Well, all this living under false pretences,
which is the distinguishing characteristic and the great evil, the real
"social evil" of the present time cannot go on for ever. It is an evil
of long standing, no doubt, but it has gone on increasing from year to
year, like a falling avalanche, with constantly increasing velocity. The
earthquake must come at last, if not averted by an emigration _en masse_
of those educated classes to which I have alluded above; and the best,
finest, healthiest, most fertile, and most accessible country, outside
the British dominions, I hold to be, roughly speaking, that tract of
Southern Europe bounded on the North by the Saave, on the South by the
Bosphorus, on the East by the Danube, and on the West by the Adriatic.
"But, my dear Sir," I think I hear some reader say, "that is Turkey in
Europe!" No doubt it is, but the Turks won't be there for ever, their
time is nearly run out; the period of their wretched misrule over the
Christian populations of Europe is nearly accomplished, and I still hope
to live long enough to see those barbarous hordes recrossing the Bosphorus
into Asia Minor, on their way back to the Steppes of Khiva and Bokhara,
from whence they originally emigrated. They have ever shown themselves
irreclaimable barbarians throughout. Look at the present condition of
European Turkey, after centuries of Ottoman dominion; contrast it with
the nascent state of Roumania, which only quite lately succeeded in
shaking off its Moslem chains. Let us look at both countries, as they
present themselves opposite to each other on the banks of the Danube.
On the left bank of that river we have Giurgevo in Roumania, the port of
Bukharest, where, notwithstanding centuries of slavery and misgovernment,
the natives, now under the government of an enlightened Christian Prince,
are all activity and progress—while on the right bank at Rustchuk, just
opposite, in dark contrast to the Christian, who is trying to turn to
account all the advantages of his country, the indolent, uncivilized
Turk is still lazily dozing away, leaning against his ancient painted
and bedizened araba, drawn by a pair of patient oxen, waiting for the
chance of some solitary, silent traveller!
A new era is dawning, however, over these south-eastern regions, but
much of their prosperity and future happiness may depend on the model
they will propose for themselves in their efforts at civilization;
whether the brilliant glitter of Parisian veneering and varnish, or the
less attractive, but more solid advantages of British institutions. A
great future is before the Danubian Principalities, may they use their
opportunities with wisdom, and may they prosper!