On the other side of the Channel it was quite different, and in course of time the oftener I came to England the more I felt at home there, and the closer became the ties of friendship in various classes of society. When in London I was often invited to the provincial towns to give public lectures on some one or other subject of Inner-Asiatic conditions, and thus became acquainted with the principal centres of industry. My lectures were mostly limited to the description of those Central Asiatic lands where I had resided for some considerable time, and dealt with commerce, industry, natural products, and other such practical points. In many places, as, for instance, in Birmingham, I was asked to bring my costume bought in Central Asia, to give the manufacturers an insight into the colour, material, and fashion of the national costume, and, as I learned afterwards, similar goods of English manufacture have since been imported into Bokhara by the way of Afghanistan. In other places again, I had to speak of my travelling adventures in connection with geographical and ethnographical interests, and even in the smallest towns I always found an attentive and interested audience. I also used to touch upon the political side of my travelling experiences, and the more I railed against Russia the louder was the applause. Sometimes there were comical episodes during my lectures. After I had finished, the public always addressed various questions to me, and once the learned entomologist, Mr. D., asked whether I could not oblige him with some Central Asiatic lice, as he had made a special study of these insects, and was on the point of publishing a large book on the subject. On my reply that in Central Asia I had been in quite too close contact with these creatures, but that now, thank Heaven, there was a great distance between us, the scientist asked whether, perhaps, my Tartar could oblige him with a few specimens. He explained that he had various kinds, Chinese, Siamese, and other lice, but he had not been able to procure any from Central Asia. Again, I had to reply in the negative, but the enthusiastic entomologist would not yet give in. "Could not," he suggested, "a European louse (a Hungarian one in this case) be brought into contact with my Tartar? it would be interesting to note what transformation would take place." Needless to say, I did not perform this charitable duty to science, but this little episode with Mr. D., who soon afterwards published a work in two thick volumes upon pedicula, has often amused me. My lectures in England have always had an exhilarating effect upon me. Commencing in 1868, I visited in this manner, with short intervals, many different towns of the United Kingdom. Bath, Birmingham, Leeds, Sheffield, Bradford, Leamington, Norwich, Kendal, York, Wakefield, Edinburgh, Belfast, Halifax, Glasgow, Dundee, Aberdeen, Newcastle-on-Tyne, Brighton, Cardiff, and other places, were visited once, twice, and even oftener. Everywhere I enjoyed the hospitality of the most distinguished and richest inhabitants of the place, and thus I got an insight into the social, religious, ethical, and political standing as well as the prevailing ideas and notions of the British people which increased my admiration and enthusiasm for this remarkable nation. After two years of uninterrupted sojourn in Hungary I always felt the need for what the French call, "me retremper dans l'esprit européen," and to strengthen my nerves and refresh my ideas by a trip to England. Just as on my journey home from the East I felt that step by step I was advancing in Western ways of living and thinking, in Western manners and customs, until they reached their culminating point in England, so also when returning home from thence I felt that each step was bringing me nearer to Eastern notions of life, and to the errors, abuses, and superstitions of the Old World. Year after year I made the same disappointing observation. It always struck me in the same unpleasant manner; and if in spite of all this I did not follow the promptings of my heart to make my permanent home in the centre of Western thought and culture, so much more congenial to my own conceptions of life, the fault lies not with me, but with various external causes. In the first place the immediate contact with these factors of Western culture, the incessant buzzing and whirring of the machinery, had a stunning and exhausting effect upon me. I realised that this restlessness, this everlasting mad rushing and wrestling was unavoidable and indispensable to the attainment of the object in view, but I preferred to watch the grotesque spectacle from a distance, and to renew my strength by occasional visits to the field of action. In the second place, notwithstanding all the many contradictions and oppositions in which I constantly found myself with my countrymen on account of my different views and notions of life, I clung far too strongly to the soil of my native land to separate myself from it altogether, and finally break with so many homely manners and customs yet dear to me. And in the third place I was a Hungarian and had presented myself to the world as the explorer of the early history and language of my people. As such, an expatriation might reasonably have shed a doubtful light upon my character as man and writer. My fate compelled me to remain at home, to persevere, and to make myself as comfortable as I could in the uncongenial surroundings. A hard struggle, an everlasting self-denial, a constant incognito seemed to be my appointed lot both in Europe and in Asia. Here, as there, my surroundings were foreign and uncongenial to me, and while for many years I accommodated myself to the necessity, and silently bore all manner of mental injuries, I had always the consolation of work; for in literary occupation I forgot everything else and was supremely happy.
I have often been asked why I did not from a patriotic point of view join the national political endeavours, and take part in the movement of 1867? From a utilitarian point of view, and considering my eminently practical views of life, my entering the Hungarian Parliament seemed to commend itself; but serious considerations held me back. In the first place I had no taste for this career. I had never studied Hungarian law, and my knowledge of the political and economical conditions of the land were far too slight for me to occupy a position as practical Hungarian politician worthy of my ambition. And secondly, if these difficulties could have been overcome, there were yet many other obstacles in the way, which made a successful career such as I desired, practically impossible. In Hungary, and elsewhere on the European Continent, birth and origin play an important part in public life. The saying, "Boni viri vinique non quæritur origo," is and always will be only a figure of speech; and although, perhaps, the strong spirit of liberalism which marked the commencement of Hungary's constitutional era might have favoured my ambition—which I doubt, as so far not a single citizen of Jewish extraction has succeeded in becoming a leading statesman—it was not very likely that the highest circles of Vienna society would brook a breach of their old conservative notions. I was bound to reckon with this circumstance, and as my ambition could tolerate no half measures and limitations, I preferred to keep altogether aloof from the political arena of Hungary.
My Political Career and Position in England
CHAPTER VIII MY POLITICAL CAREER AND POSITION IN ENGLAND
Many people have wondered how the various professions of Orientalist, ethnographer, philologist, and political writer could all be united in one and the same person, and that I applied myself to all these literary pursuits has often been made a matter of reproach. Personally, I cannot see either virtue or advantage in this odd mixture of study, but I have gone on with it for years, and I will now shortly mention the reasons which induced me thereto. I have already related how, during my first stay in Constantinople, I became a Press correspondent, and how, through constant intercourse with the political world, I entered the list of writing politicians. My interest in political affairs has never flagged; indeed, it rose and became more active when, on account of my personal experiences in Persia and Central Asia, I became, so to speak, the authority for all such information concerning them as related to the political questions of the day, and of which even initiated politicians were ignorant. The traveller who keeps his eyes open necessarily takes a practical view of all that goes on in social, political, and intellectual life, and it is perfectly impossible that the wanderer, entirely dependent upon his own resources for years together, and mixing with all classes and ranks of society, should cultivate merely theoretical pursuits. To me the various languages were not merely an object, but also a means, and when one has become practically so familiar with foreign idioms in letter and in speech that one feels almost like a native, one must always retain a lively interest in their respective lands and nations, one shares their weal and woe, and will always feel at home among them. Of course, it is quite another thing for the theoretical traveller, whose object is of a purely philological or archæological nature. To him land and people are secondary matters, and when he has procured the desired theoretical information, and left the scene of operation, he forgets it all the sooner, since he has always remained a stranger to his surroundings, and has always been treated as such.
This could never be the case with me. I had so familiarised myself with Osmanli, Persian, and East Turkish that I was everywhere taken for a native. In those three languages my pen has always been busy up to an advanced age, and I believe there is hardly another European who has kept up such varied correspondence with Orientalists in distant lands.