There were hundreds of people; and what a variety of races and diversity of costumes! The Wallack women, in their holiday suits, were the most picturesque. Many of them were handsome, and they have generally a very superior air to the men; they are better dressed and more civilised looking. There were a sprinkling of Magyars in braided coats, or with white felt cloaks richly embroidered in divers colours. But the blue-eyed, fair-complexioned German was far more numerous. The Magyar element is very much in the minority in this particular part of Hungary. The Jews and the gipsies were there in great numbers—they always are at fairs—in the quality of horse-dealers and vendors of wooden articles for the kitchen. The Jew is easily distinguished by his black corkscrew ringlets, and his brown dressing-gown coat reaching to his heels. This ancient garment suits him "down to the ground;" in fact his yellow visage and greasy hat would not easily match with anything more cleanly. These Jewish frequenters of fairs are, as a rule, of the lowest class, hailing either from the Marmaros Mountains in North-Eastern Hungary, or from Galicia.
The fair is really a very important exhibition of the products and manufactures of the country, and it is well worth the attention of the stranger, who may pass on with the motley crowd through streets of stalls and booths. One annexe is devoted to furniture, from a winged wardrobe down to a wooden spoon. In another part you see piles of Servian rugs, coarse carpets, sheepskin bundas, hairy caps of a strange peaked form, broad hats made of reed or rush, and the delightful white felt garments before mentioned, which are always embroidered with great taste and skill. Horses, cows, and pigs are also brought here in great numbers to exchange owners. The long-horned cattle are perhaps the most striking feature in the whole fair. They are white, with a little grey on the necks, flanks, and buttocks. Oxen are much used for hauling purposes as well as for the plough. A pair of oxen, it is considered, will do the work of four horses.
Professor Wrightson says: "The Podolian is an aboriginal race, descended from the wild urox (Bos primigenius). The race is remarkable for its capability of resisting influences of climate, and its contentedness with poor diet.... The Hungarian oxen are considered by naturalists as the best living representative of the original progenitors of our domestic cattle." Of the buffalo the same writer says: "It was introduced into Hungary by Attila; it is found in the lowlands, on both sides of the Danube and the Theiss, Lower Hungary, and Transylvania. In 1870 there were upwards of 58,000 in Transylvania, and more than 14,000 in Hungary."[10]
Later in my tour, when at Klausenburg, I had an opportunity of seeing an extensive dairy where upwards of a hundred buffalo cows were kept. The farm alluded to is admirably managed, and, I am told, yields very profitable returns.
It is the opinion of Professor Wrightson that cattle are diminishing in Hungary owing to the breaking up of pastures and the recurrence of rinderpest. He says he does not think that the English market can look to Hungary for a supply of cattle at present. This gentleman did not, I believe, visit Transylvania, and I am inclined to think the supply from that part of the kingdom is greatly on the increase; there the pastures are not in process of being turned into arable land, and the rise in prices has given an impetus to the profitable employment of capital in raising stock.
In walking round the fair, we took notice of the horses. I could have made a better bargain than I did in Servia. A useful cart-horse could be bought, I found, for about six or seven pounds. I daresay I could have picked out a few from the lot fit for riding, but of course they were rough animals, mere peasant horses. Some of the colts, brought in a string fresh from the mountains, were wild, untamed-looking creatures; but hardly as wild as the Wallacks who led them, dressed in sheepskin, and followed each by his savage wolf-like dog. The dogs are very formidable in Hungary. It is never safe to take a walk, even in the environs of a town, without a revolver, on account of these savage brutes, who, faithful to their masters, are liable to make the most ferocious attacks on strangers. This special kind of dog is in fact most useful—to the shepherd on the lonely puszta, to the keeper of the vineyard through the night-watches, when the wild boar threatens his ravages—and in short he acts the part of rural police generally.
In Hungary, as elsewhere, there are dogs of kindly nature and gentle culture. I can record a curious instance of reasoning power in a dog named "Jockey," who is well known at Buda Pest. He has the habit of crossing over from Pest to Buda every morning of his life in one or another of the little steamboats that ply backwards and forwards. He regularly takes his walk over there, and then returns as before by steamer. This is his practice in summer; but when winter arrives, and the ice on the Danube stops the traffic of the steamboats, then Jockey has recourse to the bridge. I believe there is no doubt of this anecdote. Another instance of sagacity is attributed to him. His master lost a lawsuit through the rascality of his attorney; Jockey feels so strongly on the subject that he snarls and growls whenever a lawyer enters his master's house. Here, of course, the instinct is stronger than the powers of discrimination.