As my garments had not the durability of those of the Israelites in the wilderness, it became a very desirable object to effect a junction with my portmanteau, which was sitting all this time at Maros Vásárhely. The weather, too, had calmed my ardour for the mountains, and I resolved to strike into the interior of Transylvania, and see something of the towns.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
Visits at Transylvanian châteaux—Society—Dogs—Amusements at Klausenburg—Magyar poets—Count Istvan Széchenyi—Baron Eötvos—'The Village Notary'—Hungarian self-criticism—Literary taste.
I must now drop the itinerary of my journey and speak more in generalities; for after leaving the wilder districts of the Szeklerland, I took the opportunity of presenting some of the letters of introduction that I brought with me from England.
For the succeeding six weeks or more I spent my time most agreeably in the châteaux of some of the well-known Transylvanian nobles. For the time my wild rovings were over. The bivouac in the glorious forest and robber-steak cooked by the camp fire—the pleasures of "roughing it"—were exchanged for the charms of society.
And society is very charming in Transylvania. Nearly all the ladies speak English well, and are extremely well read in our literature. To speak French is a matter of course everywhere; but they infinitely prefer our literature, and speak our language always in preference when they can.
The works of such men as Darwin, Lyell, and Tyndall are read. I remember seeing these, and many other leading authors, in a bookseller's shop in Klausenburg. It is true this last-named place is the capital—viz., the Magyar capital—of Transylvania, but in most respects it is a mere provincial town.
A friend and myself happened to be lunching one day in the principal inn—it was in the salle à manger—and we were talking together in English. Presently I noticed a remarkably little man at the next table, who looked towards us several times; finally he got up from his chair, or rather I should say got down, and making a sign to us equivalent to touching his hat, he said, "Gentlemen, I am an Englishman; I thought it right to tell you in case you should think there was no one present who understood what you were talking!" It was very civil of the little fellow, for we were talking rather unguardedly about some well-known personages. I then asked him how he came to be in this part of the world, and he told me he was a jockey, and had been over several times to ride at the Klausenburg races; but he added he was very sorry that they always took place on a Sunday! There is certainly no "bitter observance of the Sabbath" in Hungary generally. Offices are open, and business is conducted as usual—certainly in the morning.