OFEN, June 23d, 1852.
I have just come from the steamer, and do not know how better
to employ the moment I have at my disposal before Hildebrand
follows with my things, than by sending you a little sign of
life from this very easterly but very beautiful world. The
Emperor has been graciously pleased to assign me quarters in
his castle; and here I am in a large vaulted hall, sitting at
an open window through which the evening bells of Pesth are
pealing. The outlook is charming. The castle stands high;
beneath me, first, the Danube, spanned by the suspension
bridge; across it, Pesth; and further off the endless plain
beyond Pesth, fading away into the purple haze of evening. To
the left of Pesth I look up the Danube; far, very far away on
my left,--that is, on its right bank,--it is first bordered
by the town of Ofen; back of that are hills, blue and still
bluer, and then comes the brown-red in the evening sky that
glows behind them. Between the two towns lies the broad
mirror of water, like that at Linz, broken by the suspension
bridge and a wooded island. The journey here, too, at least
from Gran to Pesth, would have delighted you. Imagine the
Odenwald and the Taunus pushed near to each other, and the
space between filled with the waters of the Danube. The shady
side of the trip was its sunny side; it was as hot as if
Tokay was to be grown on the boat: and the number of tourists
was great, but--only think of it--not an Englishman! They
cannot yet have discovered Hungary. There were, however, odd
customers enough, of all races, oriental and occidental,
greasy and washed. A very amiable general was my chief
traveling companion; I sat and smoked with him nearly the
whole time, up on the paddle-box.
I am growing impatient as to what has become of Hildebrand; I
lean out of the window, partly mooning and partly watching
for him as if he were a sweetheart, for I crave a clean
shirt--if you could only be here for a moment, and if you too
could now see the dull silver of the Danube, the dark hills
on a pale-red background, and the lights that shine up from
below in Pesth, Vienna would go down a good way in your
estimation as compared with "Buda-Pesth," as the Hungarians
call it. You see that I too can go into raptures over nature.
Now that Hildebrand has really turned up, I shall calm my
fevered blood with a cup of tea, and soon after go to bed.
JUNE 24TH: Evening.
As yet I have had no opportunity to send this off. Again the
lights are gleaming up from Pesth; on the horizon, in the
direction of the Theiss, there are flashes of lightning;
above us the sky is clear and the stars are shining. I have
been a good deal in uniform to-day; presented my credentials,
in formal audience, to the young ruler of this country, and
received a very agreeable impression. After dinner the whole
court made an excursion into the hills, to the "Fair
Shepherdess"--who, however, has long been dead; King Matthias
Corvinus loved her several hundred years ago. There is a view
from there (over wooded hills, something like those by the
Neckar) of Ofen, its hills, and the plain. A country festival
had brought together thousands of people; they pressed about
the Emperor, who had mingled with the throng, with ringing
shouts of "eljen" [_vive_]; they danced the csardas, waltzed,
sang, played music, climbed into the trees, and crowded the
court. On a grassy slope there was a supper table for some
twenty persons, with seats on one side only, while the other
was left free for the view of forest, castle, city, and
country. Above us were tall beeches, with climbing Hungarians
on the branches; behind and quite near us, a closely crowded
and crowding mass of people; further off, music from wind
instruments, alternating with song--wild gipsy melodies.
Illumination--moonlight and sunset-red, with torches
scattered through the forest. It might all be produced
without a change as grand scenic effect in a romantic opera.
Next to me sat the white-haired Archbishop of Gran, in a
black silk gown with a red hood; on the other side a very
amiable, trig cavalry general. You see the picture was rich
in contrasts. Then we drove home in the moonlight with an
escort of torches....
It is very quiet and comfortable up here now; I hear nothing
but the ticking of a clock on the wall, and the distant
rumble of carriages below. May angels watch over you; over
me, a grenadier in a bearskin does it, six inches of whose
bayonet I see projecting above the window-sill, a couple of
arm's-lengths from me, and reflecting a ray of light. He is
standing above the terrace on the Danube, and thinking
perhaps of his Nancy.
PERSONAL CHARACTERISTICS OF THE MEMBERS OF THE
FRANKFORT DIET