CHAPTER VI
_HARD WORK AT PESTH._
"Rakoczy! Not dead? Where did you spring from? Vienna? Been helpingthe _proletaires_? No? Then you must have been plotting treason withthe imperialists. But come into my tent. Who are your companions? Ican see they are true Magyars. Sons of the late GeneralBotskay?--Welcome, my lads! Your name alone would draw a welcome fromany Magyar in the country."
A tall man, plainly dressed in the uniform of a major of Honveds, havinga strong, wiry, but spare frame, his hair cut quite close to his head,sharp eyes--their light half hidden behind spectacles--his face hard andweather-beaten, with a reddish undergrowth of beard; such in appearancewas Arthur Goergei, who was to become, without exception, the mostfamous general in Hungary.
From Vienna we had journeyed to Presburg, and thence to Raab, followingthe Hungarians, who were moving back on Comorn, and overtaking them atRaab.
Rakoczy, who had known Goergei in private life, immediately inquired forthe general, and we were conducted to him.
"Haven't any refreshments to offer you," he continued, when we wereinside the tent; "but never mind--somebody has."
He went to the opening, and we heard him say,--
"Here, Sturitz! Borrow me a bottle of wine or two, and someglasses.--So, old fellow, you've been watching the fight? Didn't youlong to join in? How did the good citizens like to see our retreat fromSchwechat?"
"Not at all. They were dumfounded. They couldn't believe it possiblethat the Hungarians were running away."
The general clapped the speaker on the back, and laughed with the mostfrank good-humour.
"Run!" he exclaimed; "that word tells nothing! They rushed headlong overone another; they threw away what weapons they had and vanished. Mozawas in chief command, and he sent me with a brigade to attack Schwechat.We were a mile and a half from our supports. Windischgratz sent hishorse-artillery at us, and, heigh, presto! the brigade was gone. Outof nearly five thousand I saw only one man, and he was an old soldier onthe sick list."
"But what did the other brigades do?"
Goergei pushed up his spectacles and looked at us with a twinkle.
"The other brigades? The supports?" he said. "Oh, they took to theirheels before my fellows did; but they'll all make capital soldiers aftera few months' drill. Here comes Sturitz with the wine, and we'll drinktheir healths."
"Capital chap, this Sturitz, to send borrowing," remarked Rakoczy,sipping his wine. "He brings good stuff."
"And, better still, forgets where it came from, so that he can neverrepay it. So, my lads, you've come to join the army? Well, there's onething; your father's sons will never show the men how to run away."
"One moment, general," said Stephen. "Can you tell me what we'resupposed to be fighting for?"
Goergei looked from my brother to Rakoczy, who said,--
"In truth, general, things seem a little bit mixed. Over in Vienna theytalk as if we wanted to set up a republic."
"A republic?" cried Goergei. "What stuff! Haven't they read history?Don't they know that Hungary is royalist to the core? Why, if the kingcame to this camp, the men would carry him shoulder high from one end ofit to the other. Why, at Schwechat they ran away to the cry of 'Longlive King Ferdinand!'"
"That ought to be proof enough," replied Rakoczy, laughing, "and I'mglad to hear it; because, like these lads, I've no idea of spilling myblood in order to make Kossuth dictator."
"You're going to fight, my dear fellow, and not bother your head aboutpolitics. First, though, there's a lot of work to be done. We wantammunition and stores of all sorts, and, as much as anything, we wantsoldiers; we've plenty of men."
"You aren't going to turn me into a drill-sergeant?"
"I am though. 'Right! Left! Keep your heads up there! Close up onthe right!' That will be your work for the next week or two, while Idodge about here, and make Windischgratz believe we're burning tofight."
"Where am I to go?"
"Pesth, with the rank of major. Tedious work you'll find it, and noglory either; but you'll do more good there than marching andcounter-marching with me. Now, as to these lads. Which is it to be--ashowy uniform or downright hard grinding?"
"Take them on your staff," suggested Rakoczy. "They'll get both then."
"Haven't room for more than one."
"Let that be Stephen," I exclaimed promptly.
"Take George. He is the better horseman," said my brother.
"Toss for it!" cried the general, taking a coin from his pocket; "butdon't stick to this bit of silver. I keep it as a curiosity; it'salmost the only one in the country."
The spin of the coin decided in favour of Stephen, and it wasaccordingly settled that he should remain with the army, while I went toPesth as a lieutenant of Honveds.
We had drunk another glass of wine to the success of the comingcampaign; and Goergei, having made out the necessary papers, gaveSturitz orders to furnish us with horses.
Then, with kindly thought, the general took Rakoczy outside, leaving meto wish my brother farewell.
It was the first time in our lives we had been called on to separate,and the parting was a sad one to both of us; but we made a fine show ofgood spirits, and talked confidently of seeing each other again in a fewweeks.
"There's Sturitz with the animals," said Stephen, as the clatter ofhorses' hoofs sounded outside the tent. "Well, good-bye, dear oldfellow."
"Don't be too venturesome," I replied, and returning the pressure of hishand, followed him to where the general stood with Rakoczy.
"Here you are, George," cried the latter gaily. "Thanks to the chief,we start the war on horseback, however we may finish."
"Remember," said the general, "drill, drill, drill, and plenty of riflepractice."
"We'll bear it in mind, general, and teach the fellows how to hit awindmill at least.--Now, George, up you get," and he swung himself intohis own saddle with the ease of a practised rider.
Glancing back, I saw Stephen waving his cap, and Goergei with his handsbehind his back and his head bent forward, already plunged in deepthought.
The weather was bitterly cold, and the roads were abominable; but werode thoroughbred Magyar horses, which carried us at a rattling pace.
I was, in truth, rather miserable at leaving my brother; but the crisp,keen air, the sharp gallop, and the merry spirits of my companion soonchased away my melancholy.
"Wonderful man, Goergei," he said, when the horses, having settled downto a slower pace, made talking possible. "Kossuth did one good thing ingiving him a high command. Hard as iron, and a born soldier."
"Has he ever seen service?"
"Only for a short time as a lieutenant in the bodyguard. But he has aspirit which nothing can break, an energy that never tires; and he canendure as much fatigue as any man in the country. I knew him and hisbrothers when they were youngsters; in fact, we were boys together.They were in good circumstances, but their mother brought them up tolive hard. They learned early to take the rough with the smooth, and tolaugh at hardships. They never felt the cold in the bitterest winter,and when the rain soaked them through, why, they just got dry again."
"Where are the others?"
"Don't know; but wherever the hardest work's to be done, you may besure. Stephen will find his job tougher than ours."
"It will please him the more. By the way, I wonder if Count Beulaescaped from Vienna?"
"Most likely. Bern did. Goergei told me they smuggled the Pole out,shut up in a coffin. That's how the story runs, whether true or not;but, at any rate, Bern's in Transylvania with 25,000 good fighting men."
"It's very good of the Poles to help us, but I'd rather see a Hungarianarmy led by a Magyar chief."
"So would I. Still, we ought not to grumble with the bridge thatcarries us over the stream."
Sound advice, no doubt, though it scarcely satisfied me, and I was tothink a good deal more about it before the
campaign finished.
The journey to Pesth passed without incident, as we were amidst friends;and the morning after our arrival in the city we began our new duties.
As the general had stated, there were numbers of men willing and eagerto join the army, but they were without weapons, except hay-forks andsuch like implements, and had not the faintest notion of military drill.
However, they were enthusiastic, and if not patient, at least tractable;so their instructors hoped to make something of them before long.
The drill-ground was the great plain or field of Rakos, behind the city,which in olden days was the meeting-place of the Diet, when our Magyarforefathers, attended by their vassals, assembled to discuss the affairsof the nation.
Once again the place was filled with men who had come together inthousands--ploughmen, carters, shepherds, miners--not to talk, but tolearn how to fight the enemies of their country.
To a military veteran the spectacle must have afforded ample food forfun and amusement. Rakoczy laughed without stint.
Thousands of men, grouped in small detachments, were going through theelementary steps--men drawn from all parts of the kingdom, and dressedin every conceivable style, but for the most part true Magyars.
Here a peasant, in loose black linen shirt, black trousers, embroideredwaistcoat, and gay-coloured jacket, wearing gaiter boots and alarge-brimmed Spanish-looking hat, jostled a neighbour in a sheepskincoat, with a hat made of rushes, and huge sandals on his feet.
Here one saw a group of hardy fellows arrayed in embroidered petticoatsand kalpags--the national caps, made of fur and adorned with feathers;there, men from the south with broad felt hats, leather girdles, gatyaor full white linen trousers, and shirts that scarcely reached to thewaist.
In one respect, however, they were all alike--they were dreadfully inearnest and bent on learning their new trade.
It was early morning when we went out to the Rakos; the sun had set whenwe returned to the city.
All day long we had been hard at work drilling one squad after another,till our limbs ached and our throats were parched as the crater of avolcano.
Rakoczy soon threw off the feeling of fatigue, and after dinner strolledwith others of the officers into the town; but I was thoroughly tired,and slipped off to bed.
Certainly Goergei spoke truth when he described the work as tedious andwithout glory; but it had to be done nevertheless, and for several weeksthe unceasing toil continued.
There was little variety in our lives just at that time. We went out inthe morning, drilled the recruits all day, and returned at night tiredas dogs.
Early in December we learned that the emperor had abdicated in favour ofthe young archduke, Francis Joseph, that Prince Windischgratz was almostready to march, and that Jellachich had already started.
Though hearing nothing of Stephen, I did not feel uneasy, as thus farGoergei had only made a show of fighting to delay the enemy's advancewhile we were shaping an army.
From the second week in December every day brought a rumour of somesort, which we had more leisure to talk over, as the darkness made latedrill impossible.
Rakoczy and I spent Christmas Day in marching with a batch of passedrecruits to a small village situated several miles from the city, wherea body of troops had been stationed.
The weather was simply detestable. First it rained in torrents, then itsnowed, and the snow froze before reaching the ground, and, but for thebundas or overmantles in which we were wrapped, we should have perishedon the march.
To add to the charm of the situation, the guide mistook the route, andwe wandered about for several hours, stiff with cold and hollow fromhunger.
When we did reach the village, the welcome from the troops made usforget the discomforts of the journey; and as our duties ended inhanding over the fresh soldiers to the commandant, we spent the eveningvery agreeably with the officers.
The next morning, before starting for Pesth, we learned that Goergei,having abandoned Raab, was falling back on the capital, and that GeneralPerczel was being hard pressed by the Croats under Jellachich.
Two or three days later the news came of Perczel's defeat at Moor, and amessage from Comorn announced that Windischgratz had summoned thefortress.
Goergei was now manoeuvring to join the remnants of Perczel's army, inwhich he afterwards succeeded; but the news of these disasters causedgreat consternation in Pesth, and the members of the Diet determined toremove the seat of government to Debreczin.
On the last day of the year 1848, crowds of old men, women, and childrenleft the city, and my heart ached, as I watched them toil painfullyonwards, to think of the terrible march that lay before them.
However, as the man in Vienna had said, rose-water and kid gloves go illwith revolutions; but I wished it was possible to lift the burden fromthe shoulders of those so ill fitted to bear it.
That same night a grand reception was held in the palace of CountSzondi, and as invitations had been sent to all the officers still inthe city, Rakoczy and I went.
I have often thought since of that magnificent spectacle. The brilliantuniforms of the soldiers, the sparkling eyes of the beautiful Magyarladies, who were all dressed in the national costume, the ruby velvetdolmans of the wealthy citizens, the gorgeous dresses of the nobles, thebrilliant lights from burnished chandeliers, the handsome furniture, therugs of ermine and sable, the masterpieces of famous Hungarian artistshanging on the walls in heavily-gilded frames, the incessant sparkle andplay of diamonds as the guests glided hither and thither, presented ascene that one does not easily forget.
Hitherto my time had been so fully occupied that I had not been able toseek out old friends, and now most of them had departed; but here andthere I saw a familiar face and heard a voice that recalled to me thejoys of bygone days.
Chief amongst the guests, and surrounded by a group of distinguished menand beautiful women, stood a remarkably handsome man, above the averageheight, straight, and of a fine athletic build.
His black, curly hair hung over his shoulders, his well-trimmed beardcovered his breast. The manly expression of his face and the fiery glowin his eyes formed a true index to his bold, headstrong, andenthusiastic nature. He looked fit to be, as he was, the leader of theMagyar nobles who had taken up arms against the Austrian oppression.
This was Count Louis Batthiany before the evil days, alas! so soon tocome, fell upon him.
Towards midnight there arose a great stir in the crowded assembly, amovement of feet, a craning of necks, a low hum which quickly swelled involume; and turning round I saw that another distinguished visitor hadentered the room.
Watching his almost royal progress through the brilliant throng, Ithought of the words spoken by Baron von Arnstein, and looked on coldly.
But though, unlike the majority of my fellow-countrymen, I had earlybeen prejudiced against Louis Kossuth, I have no wish to deny hismarvellous and almost superhuman gifts.
A true Hungarian, he loved his country with fond affection; but hisviews were not mine, and even in those days I thought him wrong.
A man of medium height and wiry frame, he passed through the crowdedroom with dignified carriage and grace of movement. The paleness of hisoval face was very striking, and his high, open forehead betokened keenintelligence. His eyes were blue, and though naturally dreamy, theyoften flashed fire; his eyebrows were dark and thick; and over hischestnut hair he wore a wig. He had a small, well-formed mouth, fineteeth, firm, round chin, and delicate white hands with tapering fingerslike those of an artist.
He wore a plain Honved uniform, over which was thrown a grey mantle.
The count stepped forward to meet him, and the two talked togetherearnestly, but in low tones.
"Kossuth is a great man!" exclaimed a portly civilian standing near us.
"True, friend!" replied Rakoczy, with his ever-ready smile, "but Hungaryhas no lack of great men; they grow as thick as robinias in thegardens."
"Kossuth is a splendid talker."
"Right again, friend," said my companion dryly. "His eloquence hascreated the raw material which Goergei will fashion into an army. Sometalk, some fight; let each man stick to his trade."
"I hope," said the citizen mildly, after a glance at our Honveduniforms, "that Goergei will be able to make something of you."
Rakoczy laughed so heartily that several people turned to discover thereason of his mirth, and we thought it best to move away from themild-mannered but caustic civilian.
Soon after this Kossuth left, taking Batthiany with him, and the rest ofus moved into the large banqueting-hall, where refreshments had beenlaid.
At the last stroke of midnight Count Szondi rose, and a great hush fellon the brilliant assembly as the old noble with his venerable whitelocks faced us.
"Magyars!" he said, and the veteran's voice was firm and clear as abell, "the year is dead; we do not mourn it. The new year is born, andwith it a glorious future for Hungary. The Magyar is in arms; let thosebeware who seek to thwart him. Magyars, let us drink to the prosperityof the sacred fatherland."
The words were few and simple--the speaker was no orator; yet, as heraised the brimming glass to his lips, a fit of wild enthusiasm seizedevery man and woman in that spacious hall.
The men cheered again and again till their voices were hoarse; the womenjoined in the plaudits, their eyes sparkling, their cheeks aflame withexcitement. Handkerchiefs fluttered and ribbons waved in the air; thescene became indescribable.
An officer said something, I know not what, but the next moment Rakoczywas at the farther end of the room, mounted on a chair.
The sight of his handsome face arrested attention; the hubbub graduallydied away. Profound silence followed. The people, thinking he was aboutto speak, listened eagerly.
I have mentioned that Rakoczy had a magnificent voice, but until thatnight I had not even dreamed of its power.
The lights, the wine, the beautiful faces of the Magyar ladies, themartial aspect of the men, the stirring excitement of the time, thedangers surrounding our beloved country, the knowledge that thousands ofour comrades were in arms against the foe, all helped to enhance theeffect, but much was due to Rakoczy himself.
We stood, I repeat, motionless as statues, gazing at him, when suddenlythere issued from his throat, echoing and re-echoing through the hall,the first notes of the National Hymn.
We held our breath; tears were in the eyes of some; half-choking sobscame from the throats of others; bosoms heaved and cheeks burned likefire; men, unable to restrain their emotions, clinched their hands tillthe finger nails dug into the palms.
Loud and clear the martial notes rang out. They spoke to our hearts;they called us to battle, to death if need be, in defence of ourfatherland.
We hung upon them breathlessly. Our hands unconsciously gripped thehilts of our swords. The hot blood tore through our veins. We heardnothing, were conscious of nothing, but the glorious Magyar hymn whosenotes throbbed in every fibre of our bodies.
The first verse was finished, and as Rakoczy began the second everyvoice joined in. The restrained excitement had burst its bonds like theDanube in flood. It could no longer be held back; it was bound to finda vent, and it found it in song.
I know little of music, but grander music was never heard than that inthe banqueting-hall of Count Szondi when the year 1849 was born.
As the last notes died away, the cheering was frantically renewed.Women sobbed openly, and there were few men iron-nerved enough to hidetheir emotion.
Then, with a ringing "Elijen Szondi!" in honour of our host, we broke upand passed singly or in groups into the street.
The night was dark and dreary, snow lay thick on the ground, a storm offrozen sleet hurled itself into our faces, and the bitter cold made usshiver beneath our fur-lined mantles.
"A wonderful contrast this," I exclaimed, setting off with "The Joyous"and several other officers for the barracks.
"As great as that between Hungary united and Hungary divided againstitself," replied one of them.
"Or as that between Batthiany and Kossuth," suggested Rakoczy, afterwhich we lapsed into silence.
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