I write to you from Vienna, which I reached yesterday at four o’clock in
the afternoon. Everything went well on the journey. From Warsaw to Vienna I
travelled like a railway Nana in a luxurious compartment of the “Societe
Internationale des Wagons-Lits.” Beds, looking-glasses, huge windows, rugs,
and so on.
Ah, my dears, if you only knew how nice Vienna is! It can’t be compared
with any of the towns I have seen in my life. The streets are broad and
elegantly paved, there are numbers of boulevards and squares, the houses
have always six or seven storeys, and shops--they are not shops, but a
perfect delirium, a dream! There are myriads of neckties alone in the
windows! Such amazing things made of bronze, china, and leather! The
churches are huge, but they do not oppress one by their hugeness; they
caress the eye, for it seems as though they are woven of lace. St. Stephen
and the Votiv-Kirche are particularly fine. They are not like buildings,
but like cakes for tea. The parliament, the town hall, and the university
are magnificent. It is all magnificent, and I have for the first time
realized, yesterday and to-day, that architecture is really an art. And
here the art is not seen in little bits, as with us, but stretches over
several versts. There are numbers of monuments. In every side street there
is sure to be a bookshop. In the windows of the bookshops there are Russian
books to be seen--not, alas, the works of Albov, of Barantsevitch, and of
Chekhov, but of all sorts of anonymous authors who write and publish
abroad. I saw “Renan,” “The Mysteries of the Winter Palace,” and so on. It
is strange that here one is free to read anything and to say what one
likes. Understand, O ye peoples, what the cabs are like here! The devil
take them! There are no droshkys, but they are all new, pretty carriages
with one and often two horses. The horses are splendid. On the box sit
dandies in top-hats and reefer jackets, reading the newspaper, all
politeness and readiness to oblige.
The dinners are good. There is no vodka; they drink beer and fairly good
wine. There is one thing that is nasty: they make you pay for bread. When
they bring the bill they ask, _Wie viel brodchen?_--that is, how many rolls
have you devoured? And you have to pay for every little roll.
The women are beautiful and elegant. Indeed, everything is diabolically
elegant.