by Mór Jókai
CHAPTER IX
THE WOMAN WHO WENT ALONG WITH ME
And now we'll go back to the day which forms so remarkable aturning-point in the life of the Hungarian nation, the 15th March, 1848.
It did not come without due preparation. The emancipation of the people,a free press and a free soil, equality of taxation and equality beforethe law--all these splendid ideas had been fought for during the lastten years by those great minds which towered above their fellows. Thetime had now arrived, the process had been decided, the judgment livedin the heart of every honest patriot. The great sacrifices which themetamorphosis required were not demanded, but volunteered. We debatedabout them in the Diet, party against party, with all the fervour ofconviction.
A melancholy example was before us, which, like that _fata Morgana_ ofthe ocean, the phantom galley overturned, warns the seaman of the dangerthat is hovering over his head. I allude to the events in Galicia theyear before.
The Polish gentry of Galicia demanded their liberties, and emphasizedtheir demands by force of arms. There was no need on the part of theauthorities to set in motion an army corps against this new confederacy,the peasantry did the work for them instead. The Galician peasants[45]crushed the Polish gentry. The censorship had prevented the Hungariannewspapers from making known the details of this rebellion, but when theDiet met, it was impossible to prevent the fiery deputy for Comorn, theyouthful Denis Pazmandy, from raising his mighty voice on behalf of thePoles, and making known the shocking particulars of the bloody massacreto the Hungarian nation. There are many sad pages in the history of thePolish nation, but none so sad as this. And the hand which wrote thatpage could easily glide over to the next page also, and that next pagewas the history of the Hungarian nation. Here half a million of gentrystand face to face with fifteen millions of serfs which serve, suffer,pay, carry arms, and are silent. Then the Paris Revolution broke out.The French nation overthrew the throne. (By the way, a tatter from thecanopy over the French throne was brought home by one of our youngwriters, Louis Dobsa, as a present for Petofi. Dobsa fought on theFebruary barricades.) Serious debates were held in the Hungarian Diet.But Pressburg[46] was much too cold a field for such things. They wantedassistance from Pest. We didn't say Buda-Pest then, Buda[47] was notours.... Meanwhile the Vienna Revolution broke out. The streets ofVienna resounded with the watchword "Freedom," and were painted with theblood of the heroes that had fallen for it.
[Footnote 45: They were mostly Ruthenians, and racial and religiousdifferences had much to do with their antagonism. This inveigling of thepeasantry against the gentry, generally attributed to Metternich, is oneof the darkest blots in Austrian history.--TR.]
[Footnote 46: The old coronation city of Hungary, but more of a Germanthan a Magyar city then.--TR.]
[Footnote 47: It was an Austrian fortress.--TR.]
"_So these Vienna people whom we blackguard so much show that they knowhow to shed their blood for freedom while we glorious Magyars sit at ourfiresides!_" cried Petofi bitterly. "Let us send no more petitions tothe Diet," he added, "it is deaf! Let us appeal to the nation: it willhear!"
Then he wrote his "Talpra Magyar!"[48]
[Footnote 48: "Up! Magyar, up!"]
Early in the morning we assembled in my room by lamplight. There werefour of us--Petofi, Paul Vasvary, Julius Bulyovszky, and myself. Mycompanions entrusted me with the drawing up of the Pest Articles in ashort popular form intelligible to everybody. While I was thus occupied,they were disputing about what should happen next. The most violent ofthem was Paul Vasvary, who had the figure of a mighty young athlete. Inhis hand was a sword-stick with a horn handle, which he was flourishingabout in a martial manner, when, all at once, the jolted stiletto flewfrom its case, and turning a somersault, flew through the air over myhead and struck the wall.
"A lucky omen!" cried Petofi.
The proclamation was ready. We hastened into the street. We said nothingto Madame Petofi. Every one of us had arms of some sort. I pocketed thefamous duplex pistol already mentioned.
Every one knows _ad nauseam_ what followed--how the human avalanchebegan to move, how it grew, and what speeches we made in the greatsquare. But speech-making was not sufficient, we wanted to _do_something. The first thing to be done was to give practical applicationto the doctrine of a free press. We resolved to print the TwelveArticles of Pest, the Proclamation, and the "Talpra Magyar" without theconsent of the censor.
The printing press of Landerer and Heckenast was honoured with thiscompulsory distinction. The printers were naturally not justified inprinting anything without permission from the authorities, so we turnedup our sleeves and worked away at the hand-presses ourselves. The nameof the typesetter who set up the first word of freedom was _Potemkin_.
While Irinyi and other young authors were working away at the press, itwas my duty to harangue the mob that thronged the whole length ofHatvani Street. I had no idea how to set about it, but it came of itsown accord.
My worthy and loyal contemporary, Paul Szontagh, occasionally quotes tome, even now, some of the heaven-storming phrases which he heard me sayon that occasion; _e.g._, "... No! fellow-citizens; he is not the truehero who can _die_ for his country; he who can _slay_ for his country,he is the true hero!"
That was the sort of oratory I used to practise in those days!
Meanwhile the rain began to fall, and rain is the most reactionaryopponent of every revolution. But my people were not to be dispersed bythe rain, and all at once the whole street was filled with expandedumbrellas.
"What! gentlemen," thundered I from the corner of the street, "if youstick up your umbrellas now against mere rain-drops, what will you stickup against the bullets which will presently begin to fall?"
It was only then that I noticed that there were not only gentlemenaround me but ladies also. A pair of them had insinuated themselvesclose to my side. In one of them I recognised "Queen Gertrude."[49] Onher head she wore a plumed cap, and was wrapped up in a Persian shawlembroidered with palm-tree flowers. Both cap and shawl were drippingwith rain. I had met the lady once or twice at the Szigligetis'. Iexhorted the ladies to go home; here they would get dripping-wet, Isaid, and some other accident might befall them.
[Footnote 49: _i.e._, the actress who took that part.]
"We are no worse off here than you are," was the reply.
They were determined to wait till the printed broad-sides were ready.
Not very long afterwards Irinyi appeared at the window of theprinting-office, for to get out of the door was a sheer impossibility.He held in his hands the first printed sheets from the free press.
Ah, that scene! when the very first free sheets were distributed fromhand to hand! I cannot describe it. "Freedom, freedom!" It was the firstray of a new and better era!... A free press! the first-fruit of theuniversal tree of knowledge of Paradise. What a tumult arose when theyactually clutched that forbidden fruit in their hands.... Hail to thee,O Freedom of the Press! Thou seven-headed dragon, how many times hastthou not bitten me since then! Yet I bless the hour when I first sawthee creep out of thy egg and gave thee what little help I could!
Young authors, clerks, advocates, all hot-headed young people, crowdedaround the invisible banner.
A young county official was now seen forcing his way through the densecrowd right to the very door of the printing-office, and from thence headdressed me. The influential Vice-Lieutenant of the County, Paul Nyary,sent word to me that I was to go to him to the town hall.
"Why _should_ I go?" cried I from my point of vantage. "I'll be shotdown with cannon-balls rather! If the Vice-Lieutenant of the Countywants to speak to us, let him come here. We are the 'mountain' now."
And Mohammed really did come to the "mountain," and with him came agroup of grave-faced men, the veteran leaders of the camp of freedom.
Amongst them was a dwarfish little oddity of a man, the assistant editorof the _Eletkepek_, the gallant little Sukey, who, despite a chronicasthma, fought through the whole campaign, m
usket in hand. Besides beinga cripple, he was a really extraordinary stammerer. When he saw thegrave-visaged men making their way to us through the crowd, he scrambledalong beside them, and with all the force of his lungs bellowed out thisnotable declaration: "D-d-d-don't li-li-li-listen to thosewi-wi-wi-wiseacres!"
But the wiseacres hadn't come to convert us to wisdom. On the contrary,Nyary had come to approve of what we had done hitherto, and then to gotogether with us to the town hall, that they might there, together withthe town councillors, ratify the Articles of the liberal programme.
It was a fine scene. The town hall was crammed to suffocation. Those whowere called upon to speak stood upon the green table, and remained thereafterwards, so that at last the whole magistracy of the county, and Iand all my colleagues were standing on the top of the table. The flamesspread! The burgomaster, the worthy Rotterbiller, announced from thebalcony of the town hall, that the town of Pest had adopted the TwelveArticles as its own; and with that the avalanche carried the whole ofthe burgesses along with it. But the matter did not end even there. Inthe evening crowds of workmen inundated the streets. They had got fromsomewhere or other a banner, inscribed with the three sacred words,"Liberty, Equality, Fraternity!"
... Such a great day must needs have a brilliant close, so the town wasilluminated in the evening, and a free performance was given at thetheatre, _Bank-ban_[50] being the piece selected. But the mob, which bythis time was in a state of ecstasy, had no longer the patience tolisten to the pious declamations of Ban Peter. It called for "TalpraMagyar."
[Footnote 50: Joseph Katona's celebrated tragedy.]
What was to be done? The brilliant court of King Andrew II., with theQueen and Bank-ban to boot, had to stand aside and form a group roundGabriel Egressy, who, in a simple attila, with a sword by his side,stood in the middle of the stage and declaimed with magnificent emphasisPetofi's inspiring poem.
That was all very well, but it was not enough.
Then the whole company sang the "Szozato," and the people in the pit andthe galleries joined in.
That also was soon over.
What shall we give next?
The band struck up the Rakoczy[51] march. That kindled the excitement,instead of extinguishing it. And it was high time that something shouldbe done to quench it, for the excited populace was drunk with triumph.
[Footnote 51: Prohibited in Hungary at this time as being ofrevolutionary tendency.]
Then a voice from the gallery cried: "Long live Tancsis!"[52]
[Footnote 52: Michal Tancsis, a prisoner who had been released from thecitadel of Buda the same morning by the mob.]
And with that the whole populace suddenly roared with one voice: "Let ussee Tancsis!"
A frightful tumult arose. Tancsis was not at hand. He lived some way outin the suburb of Ferenczvaros. But even had he been near, it would havebeen a cruel thing to have dragged on the stage a worn-out invalid, thathe might merely bow to the public like a celebrated musician.
But what was to be done?
"Well, my sons," said Nyary, with whom I was standing in the same box,"you have awakened this great monster, now see if you can put him tosleep again!"
My young friends attempted to address the people one after the other,Petofi from the Academy box, Irinyi from the balcony of the Casino club,but their voices were drowned in the howling of the mob. The curtain waslet down, but then the tumult was worse than ever; the gallery stampedlike mad; it was a perfect pandemonium.
Then a thought occurred to me. I could get on to the stage from Nyary'sbox; I rushed in through the side wings.
I cut a pretty figure I must say. I was splashed up to the knees withmud from scouring the streets all day. I wore huge, dirty overshoes, mytall hat was drenched, so that I could easily have made a crush-hat ofit and carried it under my arm.
I looked around me and perceived Egressy. I told him to draw up thecurtain, I wanted to harangue the people from the stage.
Then "Queen Gertrude" came towards me. She smiled upon me with trulymajestic grace, greeted me and pressed my hand. No sign of fear was tobe seen in her face. She was wearing the tricoloured cockade[53] on herbosom, and, of her own accord, she took it off and pinned it on mybreast. Then the curtain was raised.
[Footnote 53: Red, white, and green, the Hungarian colours.]
When the mob beheld my drenched and muddy figure, it began to shoutafresh, and the uproar gradually became a call for every one to hear me.When at last I was able to make my voice heard, I came out with thefollowing oratorical masterpiece: "Brother citizens! our friend Tancsisis not here. He is at home in the bosom of his family. Allow the poorblind man to taste the joy of _seeing_ his family once more!"
It was only then that I felt I was talking nonsense. How could a"_blind_ man" _see_ his family? If the mob began to laugh I should bedone for!
It was the tricoloured ribbon that saved me.
"Do you see," I cried, "this tricoloured cockade on my breast? Let it bethe badge of this glorious day! Let every man who is Freedom's warriorwear it; it will distinguish us from the hireling host of slavery! Thesethree colours represent the three sacred words: Liberty, Equality,Fraternity! Let every one in whom Hungarian blood and a free spiritburns wear them on his breast."
And so the thing was done.
The tricoloured cockade preserved order. Whoever wished to pin on thetricoloured cockade had to hurry home first. Ten minutes later thetheatre was empty, and next day the tricoloured cockade was to be seenon every breast, from the paletots of the members of the Casino[54] tothe buckram of the populace, and those who went about with mantles onwore the cockade in their hats.
[Footnote 54: The Nobles' club.]
In the intoxication of my triumph I hastened after Rosa Laborfalvy assoon as this scene was over, and pressed her hand.
With that pressure of our hands our engagement began.
I have recorded the whole of this episode in order to explain how it wasthat _that_ portrait found its way to my table, which was able toconvert in an instant the smiling face of the lady with the eyes likethe sea into the hideous features of Iblis. Four months had passed awaysince then.
And the honeymoon was in keeping with the engagement. The roar of cannonand the clash of swords was the music that played at my wedding.
Oh what a marriage night was that!
At the very moment when the happy bridegroom asks his bride, "Dost thoulove me as I love thee?" at that very moment there is the roll of drumsin the streets, and the cry goes forth, "To arms, citizens!" An Italianregiment had revolted against the Hungarian Government. Without waitingfor a kiss or an embrace, I had to snatch up my musket and hurry off tothe place of meeting, and thence to go straight into fire among theflying bullets. We had to storm the Karoly Barracks. By dawn themutinous regiment had to lay down its weapons, and the bridegroom, withhis face sooty with smoke, returned home, and again put the question tohis bride, "Dost thou love me as I love thee?"
And the answer? Ah! the heart alone can feel it, the lips cannot expressit.
That was our honeymoon. With the shame of lost battles in our hearts,and despairing even of divine justice, those who can love under suchcircumstances must love dearly indeed!
And then out into the desolate world, in the midst of a Siberian winter,with everything crackling with cold in a night lit only by the blaze ofartillery, forcing one's way along through the snowy deserts of theAlfold[55] with the retreating Honved[56] army! Passing the night in aninhospitable hut where the closed door had frozen to the ground bymorning, and the roll of drums and the blare of trumpets aroused us totoil on still farther! Those who can love under such circumstances mustlove indeed!
[Footnote 55: The low-land. The name given to the great Hungarianplain.]
[Footnote 56: Defending the country. The title of the Hungarian nationalforces.]
My wife went everywhere with me.
She quitted a comfortable home, sacrificed a fortune, a brilliantcareer, to endure hunger, cold, and har
dship with me. And I never heardher utter one word of complaint. When I was downhearted, she comfortedme. And when all _my_ hopes were stifled, she shared _her_ hopes withme. At the new seat of the Hungarian Government, Debreczin, we werehuddled together in a tiny little room, compared with which the hut ofPeter Gyuricza was a palace from the _Thousand-and-one Nights_. And myqueen worked like a slave, like the wife of a Siberian convict. Sheworked not for a joke, not in sheer defiance; she did not _play thepart_ of a peasant girl, she was a serving-woman in grim earnest.
The hazard of the die of war changed. We advanced. We marched in triumphfrom one battle-field to another. I was present at the storming of thecitadel of Buda. Even in those awful days she never left me, when everynight the sky seemed about to plunge down upon our heads.
The brilliant days of triumph were again succeeded by misfortune. TheNorthern ogre[57] threw all his legions upon us. Again we had to fly, toleave our happy hut, and continue our marriage tour through desolatewildernesses, where savage hordes had devastated whole villages. Ournight's lodging was four bare sooty walls, our couch a bundle of charredstraw. Hated by strangers, feared by acquaintances, we were a terror tothe people from whom we begged a shelter.
[Footnote 57: Pastliewich, by command of the Tzar, invaded Hungary in1849, with 100,000 men.]
The chaos of war finally parted us. I insisted that she should remainaway from me. I could not endure to see her suffering any longer. It wasnot right that I should accept such sacrifices. I bade her leave me tomeet my fate alone.
After the catastrophe of Vilagos[58] my life was ended. That mightygiant, the famous Hungary of our dreams, collapsed into atoms: her greatmen became grains of dust.
[Footnote 58: When the Hungarian Commander-in-chief finally capitulatedto the Russians.]
I also became a nameless, weightless, aimless grain of dust.
The end of all things had arrived. The prophecy of the lady with theeyes like the sea lay literally fulfilled before me. Either the gibbetor suicide was to be my fate. I was twenty-four years of age, and a deadman. My former chief, the brave Catonian, Joseph Molnar, the presidentof the national court martial, had set me the example. He lay before meon the sward of Vilagos, slain by his own hand. The last hussar breakinghis sword was a spectacle he could not bear to survive. Then it was thata burning hand seized my hand. It was hers, the hand of the woman wholoved me. When all was lost, her love was not lost. She came after me.She took me with her. She set me free. When all Hungary was alreadysubdued, there was still one corner in our native land where the hand ofauthority never came. She discovered that corner, and led me thitherwith her through every hostile camp.
That was "the woman who went along with me."