DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.5074#0470
452
HUNGARIAN MUSIC.
-— perhaps the dearest of all to their hearts, was want-
ing, viz. — their national music.
Three days before we reached Pesth, a quiet, firm,
respectable little "revolution" had taken place; and
the permission, till then most harshly refused, was re-
quested to perform their beloved and time-honoured
national airs. By the persuasions of General Benedek,
the permission was granted — whether in good faith or
only till the present moment of excitement is past,
time will show: — once more the city burst forth in
the well-known old melodies, and the hearts of the
people beat high at the thrilling strains; thrilling,
indeed, they are. One evening we accompanied some
friends to a large cafe where one of the best orchestras
in the town was pealing forth to the people as they sat
round, eating ice and coffee. As we entered every eye
was turned towards' us - - were we spies ? were we hor-
rid AustrianSj come to gloat over the nakedness of the
land? we sat down at one side of the room and felt
them watching us distrustfully. After a time a gentle-
man edged over to Prince W. and asked if the ladies
liked the music ? and were we French ? we answered
for ourselves we were English, and the eyes around us
lighted up: England is the one country they fondly
look to out of their own, and the name of Englishman
is a password everywhere among them.
Hungarian music is more peculiar, more entirely
national than, I think, any other existing, unless it he
Welsh: but to that it is far superior; the ear does not
perhaps catch the melody with the same simple dis-
tinctness as in Welsh or Irish music, but the strain goes
down deep into the soul, stirring it up and penetrating
it till one feels all music oneself, the very blood dancing
in one's veins; it is sad, plaintive, thrilling and tri-
umphant all in one, wildly exciting, martial yet sweet:
HUNGARIAN MUSIC.
-— perhaps the dearest of all to their hearts, was want-
ing, viz. — their national music.
Three days before we reached Pesth, a quiet, firm,
respectable little "revolution" had taken place; and
the permission, till then most harshly refused, was re-
quested to perform their beloved and time-honoured
national airs. By the persuasions of General Benedek,
the permission was granted — whether in good faith or
only till the present moment of excitement is past,
time will show: — once more the city burst forth in
the well-known old melodies, and the hearts of the
people beat high at the thrilling strains; thrilling,
indeed, they are. One evening we accompanied some
friends to a large cafe where one of the best orchestras
in the town was pealing forth to the people as they sat
round, eating ice and coffee. As we entered every eye
was turned towards' us - - were we spies ? were we hor-
rid AustrianSj come to gloat over the nakedness of the
land? we sat down at one side of the room and felt
them watching us distrustfully. After a time a gentle-
man edged over to Prince W. and asked if the ladies
liked the music ? and were we French ? we answered
for ourselves we were English, and the eyes around us
lighted up: England is the one country they fondly
look to out of their own, and the name of Englishman
is a password everywhere among them.
Hungarian music is more peculiar, more entirely
national than, I think, any other existing, unless it he
Welsh: but to that it is far superior; the ear does not
perhaps catch the melody with the same simple dis-
tinctness as in Welsh or Irish music, but the strain goes
down deep into the soul, stirring it up and penetrating
it till one feels all music oneself, the very blood dancing
in one's veins; it is sad, plaintive, thrilling and tri-
umphant all in one, wildly exciting, martial yet sweet: