I don’t know whether the Hungarian Count drew the same conclusion in my case, but I could see he was very much amused; I don’t think any other people understand the Englishman’s love of adventure.

CHAPTER XXII.

The baths of Tusnad—­The state of affairs before 1848—­Inequality of taxation—­Reform—­The existing land laws—­Communal property—­Complete registration of titles to estates—­Question of entail.

I mixed exclusively in Hungarian society during my stay at the baths of Tusnad.  With Baron ——­ and Herr von ——­ I talked politics by the hour.  The Hungarians have the natural gift of eloquence.  They pour forth their words like the waters of a mill-race, no matter in what language.  My principal companion at Tusnad spoke French.  The true Magyar will always employ that language in preference to German when speaking with a foreigner; but as often as not the Hungarians of good society speak English perfectly well.  The younger generation, almost without exception, understand our language, and are extremely well read in English literature.

I had so recently left Saxonland, where public opinion is opposed to everything that has the faintest shade of Magyarism, that I felt in the state of Victor Hugo’s hero, of whom he said, “Son orientation etait changee, ce qui avait ete le couchant etait le levant.  Il s’etait retourne.”  The transition was certainly curious, but I confess to getting rather tired of the mutual recriminations of political parties; respecting each other’s good qualities, they are simply colour-blind.

After the Saxons had been allowed to drop out of the conversation, I led my Magyar friend to talk of the state of things before 1848, and to enlighten me as to the existing condition of laws of property.  My Hungarian—­who, by the way, is a man well qualified to speak about legal matters—­showered down upon me a perfect avalanche of facts.  Leaving out a few patriotic flashes, the substance of what he told me was much as follows.  I had especially asked about the recent legislation on the land question.

“In the old time, before ’48, the State, the Church, and the Nobles were the sole landowners.  The holding of land was strictly prohibited to all who were not noble; but to the peasants were allotted certain tracts, called for distinction ‘session-lands.’  For this privilege the peasant had to give up a tenth part of the produce to the lord, and besides he had to work for him two, and in some cases even three, days in the week.  The robot, or forced labour, varied in different localities.  The lord was judge over his tenants, and even his bailiff had the right of administering twenty-five lashes to insubordinate peasants.  The time of the forced labour was at the option of the lord, who might oblige his tenant to give his term of labour consecutively during seed-sowing or harvest, at the very time that the peasant’s own land required his attendance.  It may easily be imagined that this was a fruitful cause of dispute between the lord and his serfs.