by Mór Jókai
MOR PERCZEL.
In the January of 1848 it had not yet entered the most speculativeimagination that war might break out before the year had ended. Ourhumane patriots thought of anything in the world rather than of themanufacture of gunpowder; and when, during some unusually riotousmunicipal elections, one or two of our noble countrymen were shotthrough the head, the papers, for several weeks afterwards, were fullof comments on the horrors of such unheard-of bloodshed.
It was about this time that the journals were much occupied with thewonders of a certain magnetic somnambulist, who foretold variousstrange things, which, to the astonishment of all who heard them,actually came to pass.
She foretold, among other things, the ruin of Comorn! Unhappy town! itmight have been well for her if all her misfortunes had been includedin this prophecy, but alas! her fate was doomed to exceed even this,in the direful results of the siege. Another of the prophecies of thesomnambulist was, that the country should be visited by cholera, andthat those whom it carried off would be the happiest.
When Mor (Morice) Perczel was sent as deputy to Presburg, he wasobliged to pass a night at Vacz, where he heard so much of thismarvellous somnambulist that he determined not to leave the placewithout seeing her, and accordingly he got an acquaintance to escorthim in the evening to her lodging.
On entering the apartment, he beheld, by the dim light of a lamp, avery young girl, whose extreme paleness gave her an almostsupernatural appearance; her face was thin, and her skin transparent;her eyes, which were very large, and of a pure blue, were half closed,and her lips and hands trembled exceedingly.
She was lying motionless in a large arm-chair; and her physician hadjust entered. He had recommended the use of magnetism for the cure ofspasms at the heart, and it was now the sixth week that she had beenunder the magnetic influence. She was seldom awake, but still seldomerasleep; her usual state being something between the two--a constantunconscious reverie, accompanied by acute sensibility to the pleasureor pain of others, and a total absence of personal feeling. As herphysician approached, and she came within the magnetic influence, sheslowly opened her eyes, and fixed them steadfastly on his face withoutmoving her eyelids. When he took her hand, a cold, faint smile passedover her countenance, and the trembling ceased; her physician thenbegan to stroke her face, arms, and breast, with the tips of hisfingers, at first slowly, but quickening the motion by degrees, whilehe kept his eyes steadily fixed upon his patient.
The girl continued motionless; her eyelids alone seemed to contendwith the irresistible power which always gained upon her, closing bydegrees and then opening wide again, while the pupils were unusuallydilated.
Her whole countenance gradually underwent a wonderful change: herfeatures assumed a character inexpressibly sweet and sad; she sighedand wept, her lips parted, while a calm smile settled on them. Atlast, her head sank on the cushion of her chair, and she fell asleep.
The physician now motioned to Mor Perczel to approach within themagnetic circle. Suddenly the girl's countenance assumed an expressionof surprise and uneasiness.
"Who is this?" asked the physician, in a low, familiar tone.
The girl answered slowly, and with hesitation, "One of--ourfuture--greatest leaders!"
Perczel smiled. "Perhaps in the camp of the Diet," he thought tohimself.
"No, not in the Diet," replied the girl, to whom he had notcommunicated his thoughts; "on the field of battle!"
"And what fate awaits him there?" asked the physician.
"Let him beware of his own name!"
* * * * *
Before the termination of that year, Mor Perczel was a General in theHungarian rebel army, had raised troops, and fought several battles,without ever recalling the prophecy of the Vaczi girl.
It was on the 30th December that the memorable action near Mor[46]took place, in which the Hungarians were defeated with considerableloss.
[Footnote 46: South-west of Pesth, in the county of Stuhlweissenberg.]
The real cause of the loss of this battle has never been clearlyproved up to the present day. It was enough, and more than enough toPerczel, that the battle was lost, his troops scattered, his positionsoccupied, his colours taken, and the gallant Zrinyi battalion, theflower of his army, cut to pieces or taken prisoners.
When he returned to Pesth after this battle, one of the townmagistrates, ever ready with a jest, maliciously observed, "Ocsem[47]Mor, your namesake did not receive you well."
[Footnote 47: Nephew--younger brother.]
"Indeed!" replied the General, without taking offence, "now Iremember, that the somnambulist foretold me this just a year ago. If Idid not believe that Goergei was the cause of our losing the battle, Ishould be inclined to think there had been witchcraft in it. Well, theGermans shall keep their name's-day by and bye!"
After this loss, the Hungarians were obliged to retreat from Pesth.The Government and treasury were removed to Debrecsen, and Perczel wasintrusted with their escort thither.
Having accomplished this, he advanced with a small army towardsSzolnok, where the enemy had encamped, and were fortifying themselvesduring the cold season.
One fine misty morning, Perczel crossed the Tisza[48] on the ice tothe enemy's nearest position, and, opening fire upon them, obligedthem to retreat to Czegled, whither he pursued them.
[Footnote 48: Szolnok is built on the river Tisza, or Theiss.]
The imperial troops had just crossed a village vineyard. Perczel sawthe last dragoon disappear behind the acacia trees which skirted it,and, striking his spurs into his horse, he ordered his troops toadvance, that the enemy might not escape them.
At that moment he was arrested by a stranger, who unceremoniously rodeup to him, and, seizing his mantle, accosted him in French.
"_N'allez pas la!_" said the unknown, pointing to the vineyards.
The General looked at him in astonishment. The stranger was an oldman, simply attired _en civile_, but there was something peculiarlystriking in his martial air and keen glance.
"And why should I not go there?" asked Perczel.
"The enemy will bring you into a snare!"
"I should like to see that."
"You will see it. Behind those vineyards there is undoubtedly aconcealed battery, from which you will receive a cross fire."
"Why do you imagine this?"
"Because it follows naturally from the position."
"Ah! we must not let our apprehensions retain us on such grounds; wehave no time to speculate," cried the General, and, shaking off theimportunate stranger, he once more galloped forward.
They were now scarcely a thousand paces from the vineyards. A Suabianpeasant, whose cart had been overturned in endeavouring to pass theartillery, was standing by the roadside, uttering lamentations overhis damaged goods.
"What village is that, good fellow?" asked Perczel out of merecuriosity, pointing to the village at the foot of the vineyards.
"Perczel!" replied the boor.
"That is I," said the General; "but I asked you the name of thatvillage."
"May be your excellency is called after it, for its name has beenPerczel since the beginning of the world."
The General stopped short. The words of the somnambulist recurred tohim; he looked round for the old man--he was riding among the troops.
Perczel motioned to him to approach, and said, "Do you really believethat there is a battery concealed behind those vineyards?"
"I am certain of it. The slightest experience in tactics mightdetermine that."
"And accordingly you consider the position unattainable."
"On the contrary--but on such occasions it is usual to make a_detour_."
"For which a very rapid movement were requisite, and our infantry istoo much fatigued."
"We can manage that; intrust me with a battalion of infantry and twosquadrons of cavalry, and wait here in reserve until I start the gamefrom its cover."
"Do so," said the General, and, giving s
ome directions to hisaide-de-camp, he watched the stranger's movements with interest.
The old man put the infantry in the hussars' stirrups, and conductedthem with the utmost expedition across the wood.
The idea was as natural as that of Columbus in regard to the egg, andyet it had occurred to no one before.
In a few minutes the rapid discharge of musketry announced that thestranger had not been mistaken; and the batteries, which were actuallylying in ambush behind the hill, appeared retreating from either side.
Perczel then advanced with the reserve to meet his troops. Theyreturned in triumph with the little, grayhaired stranger, who rodecalmly on as if nothing had happened, his brow still blackened withthe smoke from the gunpowder. The troops could not sufficiently extolhis coolness and intrepidity.
"I owe you much," said Perczel, not ashamed to acknowledge thestranger's superiority. "May I know whom I have the honour ofaddressing?"
"My name is Henry Dembinszki," replied the stranger coldly.
Perczel respectfully saluted him, and placed the marshal's baton inhis hand. "It is your due; henceforward let _me_ serve in yourranks."