MOSCOW, BUDAPEST, LONDON
The years 1896--1897 were probably the most active of Richard's very
active life. In the space of twelve months he reported the Coronation
at Moscow, the Millennial Celebration at Budapest, the Spanish-Cuban
War, the McKinley Inauguration, the Greek-Turkish War and the Queen's
Jubilee. Although this required a great deal of time spent in
travelling, Richard still found opportunity to do considerable work on
his novel "Captain Macklin," to which he refers in one of his letters
from London.
As correspondent of the New York American, then The Journal, Richard
went from Florence, where he was visiting me, to Moscow. He was
accompanied by Augustus Trowbridge, an old friend of my brother's and a
rarely good linguist. The latter qualification proved of the greatest
possible assistance to Richard in his efforts to witness the actual
coronation ceremony. To have finally been admitted to the Kremlin my
brother always regarded as one of his greatest successes as a
correspondent.
En route--May 1896.
DEAR CHAS:
The night is passed and with the day comes "a hope" but during the
blackness I had "a suffer"-- I read until two--five hours--and then
slept until five when the middle man who had slept on my shoulder all
night left the train and the second one to whom Bernardi was so polite
left me alone and had the porter fit me up a bed so that I slept until
seven again-- Then the Guardian Angel returned for his traps and I bade
him a sleepy adieu and was startled to see two soldiers standing
shading their eyes in salute in the doorway and two gentlemen bowing to
my kind protector with the obsequiousness of servants-- He sort of
smiled back at me and walked away with the soldiers and 13 porters
carrying his traps. So I rung up the conductor and he said it was the
King's Minister with his eyes sticking out of his head--the conductor's
eyes--not the Minister's. I don't know what a King's Minister is but
he liked your whiskey-- I am now passing through the Austrian Tyrol
which pleases me so much that I am chortling with joy-- None of the
places for which my ticket call are on any map--but don't you care, I
don't care-- I wish I could adequately describe last night with nothing
but tunnels hours in length so that you had to have all the windows
down and the room looked like a safe and full of tobacco smoke and damp
spongey smoke from the engine, and bad air. That first compartment I
went in was filled later with German women who took off their skirts
and the men took off their shoes. Everybody in the rear of the car is
filthy dirty but I had a wash at the Custom house and now I am almost
clean and quite happy. The day is beautiful and the compartment is all
my own-- I am absolutely enchanted with the Tyrol-- I have never seen
such quaint picture book houses and mills with wheels like that in the
Good for Nothing and crucifixes wonderfully carved and snow mountains
and dark green forests-- The sky is perfect and the air is filled with
the sun and the train moves so smoothly that I can see little blue
flowers, baby blue, Bavarian blue flowers, in the Spring grass. Such
dear old castles like birds nests and such homelike old mills and
red-faced millers with feathers in their caps you never saw out of a
comic opera-- The man in here with me now is a Russian, of course, and
saw the last Coronation and knows that my suite is on the principal
Street and attends to my changing money and getting an omelette-- I can
survive another night now having had an omelette not so good as Madam
Masi's but still an omelette-- I have now left Munich and the Russian
and a conductor whom I mistook for a hereditary prince of Bavaria, with
tassels down his back, has assured me he is going to Berlin, and that I
am going to Berlin and much else to which I smile knowingly and say
mucho gracia, wee wee, ya ya, ich ich limmer and other long speeches
ending with "an er--"
DICK.
May 15th, 1896. Moscow.
DEAR CHAS:
We left Berlin Monday night at eleven and slept well in a wagon-lit.
That was the only night out of the five that I spent in the cars that I
had my clothes off, although I was able to stretch out on the seats, so
I am cramped and tired now. At seven Monday morning the guard woke us
and told us to get ready for the Custom House and I looked out and saw
a melancholy country of green hills and black pines and with no sign of
human life. It was raining and dreary looking and then I saw as we
passed them a line of posts painted in black and white stripes a half
mile apart on each side of the train and I knew we had crossed the
boundary and that the line of posts stretched from the Arctic Ocean to
the Black Sea and from the Pacific to the Caucasus Mountains and the
Pamirs. It gave me a great thrill but I have had so many to-day, that
I had almost forgotten that one. For two days we jogged along through
a level country with meanthatched huts and black crows flying
continually and peasants in sheepskin coats, full in the skirt and
tight at the waist, with boots or thongs of leather around their feet.
The women wore boots too and all the men who were not soldiers had
their hair cropped short like mops. We could not find any one who
understood any language, so as we never knew when we would stop for
food, we ate at every station and I am of the opinion that for months I
have been living on hot tea and caviar and hash sandwiches. The snow
fell an inch deep on Wednesday and dried up again in an hour and the
sun shone through it all. So on the whole it was a good trip and most
interesting. But here we are now in a perfect pandemonium and the Czar
has not yet come nor one-fifth even of the notables. It is a great
city, immense and overpowering in its extent. The houses are ugly low
storied and in hideous colors except the churches which are like
mosques and painted every color. I confess I feel beaten to night by
the noise and rush and roar and by so many strange figures and
marvellous costumes. Our rooms are perfect that is one thing and the
situation is the very best. If the main street were Fifth Avenue and
Madison Square the Governor's Square, his palace would be Delmonico's
and our rooms would be the corner rooms of the Brunswick, so you can
see how well we are placed. We can sit in our windows and look down
and up the main street and see every one who leaves or calls upon the
Governor. We are now going out for a dinner and to one of many
cafe-chantants and I will tell you the rest to-morrow, when I get
sleep, for after five nights of it I feel done up, but I feel equally
sure it is going to be a great experience and I cannot tell you how
glad 1 am that I came. Love to you all and to dear Florence in which
Trowbridge, who is a brick, joins me.
DICK.
Moscow--May 1896.
DEAR CHAS:
There was a great deal to tell when I shut down last night, but I
thought I would have had things settled by this time and waited, but it
looks now as though there was to be no rest for the weary until the
Czar has put his crown on his head. The situation is this: there are
ninety correspondents, and twelve are to get into the coronation, two
of these will be Americans. There are five trying for it.
Count Daschoff, the Minister of the Court, has the say as to who gets
in of those five. T. and I called on him with my credentials just as
he was going out. Never have I seen such a swell. He made us feel
like dudes from Paterson, New Jersey. He had three diamond eagles in
an astrakan cap, a white cloak, a gray uniform, top boots and three
rows of medals. He spoke English perfectly, with the most politely
insolent manner that I have ever had to listen to; and eight servants,
each of whom we had, in turn, mistaken for a prince royal, bowed at him
all the brief time he talked over our heads. He sent us to the bureau
for correspondents, where they gave me a badge and a pocketbook, with
my photo in it. They are good for nothing, except to get through the
police lines. No one at the bureau gave us the least encouragement as
to my getting in at the coronation. We were frantic, and I went back
to Breckenridge, our Minister, and wrote him a long letter explaining
what had happened, and that what I wrote would "live," that I was
advertised and had been advertised to write this story for months. I
dropped The Journal altogether, and begged him to represent me as a
literary light of the finest color. This he did in a very strong
letter to Daschoff, and I presented it this morning, but the Minister,
like Edison, said he would let me know when he could see me. Then I
wrote Breck a letter of thanks so elegant and complimentary that he
answered with another, saying if his first failed he would try again.
That means he is for me, and at the bureau they say whichever one he
insists on will get in, but they also say he is so good-natured that he
helps every one who comes. I told him this, and he has promised to
continue in my behalf as soon as we hear from Daschoff.
The second thing of importance is the getting the story, IF WE GET IT,
on the wire. That, I am happy to say, we are as assured of as I could
hope to be. I own the head of the Telegraph Bureau soul, body and
mind. He loves the ground T. and I spurn, and he sent out my first
cable today, one of interrogation merely, ahead of twelve others; he
has also given us the entree to a private door to his office, all the
other correspondents having to go to the press-rooms and undergo a sort
of press censorship, which entails on each man the cutting up of his
story into three parts, so as to give all a chance. I gave T. three
dictums to guide him; the first was that we did not want a fair
chance--we wanted an unfair advantage over every one else. Second, to
never accept a "No" or a "Yes" from a subordinate, but to take
everything from head-quarters. Third, to use every mouse, and not to
trust to the lions. He had practise on the train. When he told me we
would be in Moscow in ten hours, I would say, "Who told you that," and
back he would go to the Herr Station Director in a red gown, and return
to say that we would get there in twenty hours. By this time I will
match him against any newspaper correspondent on earth. He flatters,
lies, threatens and bribes with a skill and assurance that is simply
beautiful, and his languages and his manners pull me out of holes from
which I could never have risen. With it all he is as modest as can be,
and says I am the greatest diplomat out of office, which I really think
he believes, but I am only using old reporters' ways and applying the
things other men did first.
My best stroke was to add to my cable to The Journal, "Recommend ample
recognition of special facilities afforded by telegraph official"--and
then get him to read it himself under the pretext of wishing to learn
if my writing was legible. He grinned all over himself, and said it
was. After my first story is gone I will give him 200 roubles for
himself in an envelope and say Journal wired me to do it. That will
fix him for the coronation story, as it amounts to six months' wages
about. But, my dear brother, in your sweet and lovely home, where the
sun shines on the Cascine and the workmen sleep on the bridges, and
dear old ladies knit in the streets, that is only one of the thousand
things we have had to do. It would take years to give you an account
of what we have done and why we do it. It is like a game of whist and
poker combined and we bluff on two flimsy fours, and crawl the next
minute to a man that holds a measly two-spot. There is not a wire we
have not pulled, or a leg, either, and we go dashing about all day in a
bath-chair, with a driver in a bell hat and a blue nightgown, leaving
cards and writing notes and giving drinks and having secretaries to
lunch and buying flowers for wives and cigar boxes for husbands, and
threatening the Minister with Cleveland's name.
John A. Logan, Jr., is coming dressed in a Russian Uniform, and he wore
it on the steamer, and says he is the special guest of the Czar and the
Secretary of the visiting mission. Mrs. P. P. is paying $10,000 for a
hotel for one week. That is all the gossip there is. We lunched with
the McCooks today and enjoyed hearing American spoken, and they were
apparently very glad to have us, and made much of T. and of me. We only
hope they can help us; and I am telling the General the only man to
meet is Daschoff, and when he does I will tell him to tell Daschoff I
am the only man to be allowed in the coronation. I wish I could tell
you about the city, but we see it only out of the corner of our eyes as
we dash to bureau after bureau and "excellency" and "royal highness"
people, and then dash off to strengthen other bridges and make new
friends. It is great fun, and I am very happy and T. is having the
time of his life. He told me he would rather be with me on this trip
than travel with the German Emperor, and you will enjoy to hear that he
wrote Sarah I was the most "good-natured" man he ever met. God bless
you all, and dear, dear Florence. Lots of love.
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.
BUDA PEST
May 8th, 1896.
CHAS:
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.