Appendix 6 - “To Budapest,” 1893

Summary

I left Paris on January 15 [1893] to go and direct the first two performances of La Korrigane at the Royal Theater in Budapest. Ordinarily, nothing could be easier than this thirty-hour journey by the fast train—the Orient- Express—that goes twice a week from Paris to Constantinople. Last month, however, there were hazards to encounter on the snow-covered tracks, where all passage was interrupted as soon as a light breeze amused itself by accumulating snow at the curves in the track. So the trains experienced considerable delays, or did not arrive at all. Thus, during my stay in Hungary, I never saw a traveler leave the hotel where I was staying, without taking care to telephone the station to find out if the service was operating regularly.

So, we flee Paris on Sunday evening, dine in the restaurant car, go to bed in the sleeping car, try to sleep, and wake up around seven o’clock in Stuttgart, completely amazed by the novelty of the landscape.

How picturesque it is—this deep and winding gorge that leads from the capital of Württemberg under the rule of Ulm! We are fortunate to escape the threats of the season and to be able to slip through thick walls of snow laboriously piled up on the sides of the tracks by numerous teams of railroadmen.

The gorge widens, our pace quickens, and we descend on a fairly steep slope. Here is Ulm: twenty-two degrees of cold; the Danube rolls in great yellowish bubbles with the speed of a furious torrent; against the blue sky, the admirable gothic tower of the cathedral, lit by a sparkling sun, stands out with ivory tones. In the surrounding countryside, there's snow and fir trees, here and there peasants in sleds.

From Ulm to Munich, it's only a vast plain buried under an icy crust; two minutes stop in Augsburg, five in Munich; then we steam full speed along the last foothills of the Bavarian Alps with their curious shapes and jagged peaks, and at sunset we reach the Austrian border at Simbach, on the banks of the Inn. Our eyes are blinded by the reflection of the sun on the snow! Formerly one passed through Salzburg; no doubt the northern route is more practical in winter.