Chapter VI: Hard Work at Pesth

"Rakoczy! Not dead? Where did you spring from? Vienna? Been helping the _proletaires_? No? Then you must have been plotting treason with the imperialists. But come into my tent. Who are your companions? I can see they are true Magyars. Sons of the late General Botskay?--Welcome, my lads! Your name alone would draw a welcome from any Magyar in the country."

A tall man, plainly dressed in the uniform of a major of Honveds, having a strong, wiry, but spare frame, his hair cut quite close to his head, sharp eyes--their light half hidden behind spectacles--his face hard and weather-beaten, with a reddish undergrowth of beard; such in appearance was Arthur Goergei, who was to become, without exception, the most famous general in Hungary.

From Vienna we had journeyed to Presburg, and thence to Raab, following the Hungarians, who were moving back on Comorn, and overtaking them at Raab.

Rakoczy, who had known Goergei in private life, immediately inquired for the general, and we were conducted to him.

"Haven't any refreshments to offer you," he continued, when we were inside 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 some glasses.--So, old fellow, you've been watching the fight? Didn't you long to join in? How did the good citizens like to see our retreat from Schwechat?"

"Not at all. They were dumfounded. They couldn't believe it possible that the Hungarians were running away."

The general clapped the speaker on the back, and laughed with the most frank good-humour.

"Run!" he exclaimed; "that word tells nothing! They rushed headlong over one another; they threw away what weapons they had and vanished. Moza was 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 his horse-artillery at us, and, heigh, presto! the brigade was gone. Out of nearly five thousand I saw only one man, and he was an old soldier on the 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 their heels before my fellows did; but they'll all make capital soldiers after a few months' drill. Here comes Sturitz with the wine, and we'll drink their 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 never repay it. So, my lads, you've come to join the army? Well, there's one thing; your father's sons will never show the men how to run away."

"One moment, general," said Stephen. "Can you tell me what we're supposed 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 they talk 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 king came to this camp, the men would carry him shoulder high from one end of it to the other. Why, at Schwechat they ran away to the cry of 'Long live King Ferdinand!'"

"That ought to be proof enough," replied Rakoczy, laughing, "and I'm glad to hear it; because, like these lads, I've no idea of spilling my blood in order to make Kossuth dictator."

"You're going to fight, my dear fellow, and not bother your head about politics. First, though, there's a lot of work to be done. We want ammunition and stores of all sorts, and, as much as anything, we want soldiers; 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 on the right!' That will be your work for the next week or two, while I dodge about here, and make Windischgratz believe we're burning to fight."

"Where am I to go?"

"Pesth, with the rank of major. Tedious work you'll find it, and no glory either; but you'll do more good there than marching and counter-marching with me. Now, as to these lads. Which is it to be--a showy 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; "but don't stick to this bit of silver. I keep it as a curiosity; it's almost the only one in the country."

The spin of the coin decided in favour of Stephen, and it was accordingly settled that he should remain with the army, while I went to Pesth as a lieutenant of Honveds.

We had drunk another glass of wine to the success of the coming campaign; and Goergei, having made out the necessary papers, gave Sturitz orders to furnish us with horses.

Then, with kindly thought, the general took Rakoczy outside, leaving me to 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 of good spirits, and talked confidently of seeing each other again in a few weeks.

"There's Sturitz with the animals," said Stephen, as the clatter of horses' hoofs sounded outside the tent. "Well, good-bye, dear old fellow."

"Don't be too venturesome," I replied, and returning the pressure of his hand, 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 rifle practice."

"We'll bear it in mind, general, and teach the fellows how to hit a windmill at least.--Now, George, up you get," and he swung himself into his own saddle with the ease of a practised rider.

Glancing back, I saw Stephen waving his cap, and Goergei with his hands behind his back and his head bent forward, already plunged in deep thought.

The weather was bitterly cold, and the roads were abominable; but we rode 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 soon chased away my melancholy.

"Wonderful man, Goergei," he said, when the horses, having settled down to a slower pace, made talking possible. "Kossuth did one good thing in giving 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 a spirit which nothing can break, an energy that never tires; and he can endure as much fatigue as any man in the country. I knew him and his brothers when they were youngsters; in fact, we were boys together. They were in good circumstances, but their mother brought them up to live hard. They learned early to take the rough with the smooth, and to laugh 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 be sure. Stephen will find his job tougher than ours."

"It will please him the more. By the way, I wonder if Count Beula escaped 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 Hungarian army led by a Magyar chief."

"So would I. Still, we ought not to grumble with the bridge that carries us over the stream."

Sound advice, no doubt, though it scarcely satisfied me, and I was to think 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 eager to join the army, but they were without weapons, except hay-forks and such 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 Magyar forefathers, attended by their vassals, assembled to discuss the affairs of the nation.

Once again the place was filled with men who had come together in thousands--ploughmen, carters, shepherds, miners--not to talk, but to learn how to fight the enemies of their country.

To a military veteran the spectacle must have afforded ample food for fun and amusement. Rakoczy laughed without stint.

Thousands of men, grouped in small detachments, were going through the elementary steps--men drawn from all parts of the kingdom, and dressed in every conceivable style, but for the most part true Magyars.

Here a peasant, in loose black linen shirt, black trousers, embroidered waistcoat, and gay-coloured jacket, wearing gaiter boots and a large-brimmed Spanish-looking hat, jostled a neighbour in a sheepskin coat, with a hat made of rushes, and huge sandals on his feet.

Here one saw a group of hardy fellows arrayed in embroidered petticoats and kalpags--the national caps, made of fur and adorned with feathers; there, men from the south with broad felt hats, leather girdles, gatya or full white linen trousers, and shirts that scarcely reached to the waist.

In one respect, however, they were all alike--they were dreadfully in earnest and bent on learning their new trade.

It was early morning when we went out to the Rakos; the sun had set when we 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 a volcano.

Rakoczy soon threw off the feeling of fatigue, and after dinner strolled with 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 and without glory; but it had to be done nevertheless, and for several weeks the unceasing toil continued.

There was little variety in our lives just at that time. We went out in the morning, drilled the recruits all day, and returned at night tired as dogs.

Early in December we learned that the emperor had abdicated in favour of the young archduke, Francis Joseph, that Prince Windischgratz was almost ready to march, and that Jellachich had already started.

Though hearing nothing of Stephen, I did not feel uneasy, as thus far Goergei had only made a show of fighting to delay the enemy's advance while we were shaping an army.

From the second week in December every day brought a rumour of some sort, which we had more leisure to talk over, as the darkness made late drill impossible.

Rakoczy and I spent Christmas Day in marching with a batch of passed recruits to a small village situated several miles from the city, where a body of troops had been stationed.

The weather was simply detestable. First it rained in torrents, then it snowed, and the snow froze before reaching the ground, and, but for the bundas or overmantles in which we were wrapped, we should have perished on the march.

To add to the charm of the situation, the guide mistook the route, and we wandered about for several hours, stiff with cold and hollow from hunger.

When we did reach the village, the welcome from the troops made us forget the discomforts of the journey; and as our duties ended in handing over the fresh soldiers to the commandant, we spent the evening very 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 General Perczel was being hard pressed by the Croats under Jellachich.

Two or three days later the news came of Perczel's defeat at Moor, and a message from Comorn announced that Windischgratz had summoned the fortress.

Goergei was now manoeuvring to join the remnants of Perczel's army, in which he afterwards succeeded; but the news of these disasters caused great consternation in Pesth, and the members of the Diet determined to remove the seat of government to Debreczin.

On the last day of the year 1848, crowds of old men, women, and children left the city, and my heart ached, as I watched them toil painfully onwards, to think of the terrible march that lay before them.

However, as the man in Vienna had said, rose-water and kid gloves go ill with revolutions; but I wished it was possible to lift the burden from the shoulders of those so ill fitted to bear it.

That same night a grand reception was held in the palace of Count Szondi, and as invitations had been sent to all the officers still in the city, Rakoczy and I went.

I have often thought since of that magnificent spectacle. The brilliant uniforms of the soldiers, the sparkling eyes of the beautiful Magyar ladies, who were all dressed in the national costume, the ruby velvet dolmans of the wealthy citizens, the gorgeous dresses of the nobles, the brilliant lights from burnished chandeliers, the handsome furniture, the rugs of ermine and sable, the masterpieces of famous Hungarian artists hanging on the walls in heavily-gilded frames, the incessant sparkle and play of diamonds as the guests glided hither and thither, presented a scene that one does not easily forget.

Hitherto my time had been so fully occupied that I had not been able to seek out old friends, and now most of them had departed; but here and there I saw a familiar face and heard a voice that recalled to me the joys of bygone days.

Chief amongst the guests, and surrounded by a group of distinguished men and beautiful women, stood a remarkably handsome man, above the average height, straight, and of a fine athletic build.

His black, curly hair hung over his shoulders, his well-trimmed beard covered his breast. The manly expression of his face and the fiery glow in his eyes formed a true index to his bold, headstrong, and enthusiastic nature. He looked fit to be, as he was, the leader of the Magyar nobles who had taken up arms against the Austrian oppression.

This was Count Louis Batthiany before the evil days, alas! so soon to come, fell upon him.

Towards midnight there arose a great stir in the crowded assembly, a movement of feet, a craning of necks, a low hum which quickly swelled in volume; and turning round I saw that another distinguished visitor had entered the room.

Watching his almost royal progress through the brilliant throng, I thought of the words spoken by Baron von Arnstein, and looked on coldly.

But though, unlike the majority of my fellow-countrymen, I had early been prejudiced against Louis Kossuth, I have no wish to deny his marvellous and almost superhuman gifts.

A true Hungarian, he loved his country with fond affection; but his views were not mine, and even in those days I thought him wrong.

A man of medium height and wiry frame, he passed through the crowded room with dignified carriage and grace of movement. The paleness of his oval face was very striking, and his high, open forehead betokened keen intelligence. His eyes were blue, and though naturally dreamy, they often flashed fire; his eyebrows were dark and thick; and over his chestnut hair he wore a wig. He had a small, well-formed mouth, fine teeth, firm, round chin, and delicate white hands with tapering fingers like 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 together earnestly, 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 Hungary has no lack of great men; they grow as thick as robinias in the gardens."

"Kossuth is a splendid talker."

"Right again, friend," said my companion dryly. "His eloquence has created the raw material which Goergei will fashion into an army. Some talk, some fight; let each man stick to his trade."

"I hope," said the citizen mildly, after a glance at our Honved uniforms, "that Goergei will be able to make something of you."

Rakoczy laughed so heartily that several people turned to discover the reason of his mirth, and we thought it best to move away from the mild-mannered but caustic civilian.

Soon after this Kossuth left, taking Batthiany with him, and the rest of us moved into the large banqueting-hall, where refreshments had been laid.

At the last stroke of midnight Count Szondi rose, and a great hush fell on the brilliant assembly as the old noble with his venerable white locks faced us.

"Magyars!" he said, and the veteran's voice was firm and clear as a bell, "the year is dead; we do not mourn it. The new year is born, and with it a glorious future for Hungary. The Magyar is in arms; let those beware who seek to thwart him. Magyars, let us drink to the prosperity of the sacred fatherland."

The words were few and simple--the speaker was no orator; yet, as he raised the brimming glass to his lips, a fit of wild enthusiasm seized every man and woman in that spacious hall.

The men cheered again and again till their voices were hoarse; the women joined in the plaudits, their eyes sparkling, their cheeks aflame with excitement. Handkerchiefs fluttered and ribbons waved in the air; the scene became indescribable.

An officer said something, I know not what, but the next moment Rakoczy was at the farther end of the room, mounted on a chair.

The sight of his handsome face arrested attention; the hubbub gradually died away. Profound silence followed. The people, thinking he was about to speak, listened eagerly.

I have mentioned that Rakoczy had a magnificent voice, but until that night I had not even dreamed of its power.

The lights, the wine, the beautiful faces of the Magyar ladies, the martial aspect of the men, the stirring excitement of the time, the dangers surrounding our beloved country, the knowledge that thousands of our comrades were in arms against the foe, all helped to enhance the effect, but much was due to Rakoczy himself.

We stood, I repeat, motionless as statues, gazing at him, when suddenly there 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 sobs came from the throats of others; bosoms heaved and cheeks burned like fire; men, unable to restrain their emotions, clinched their hands till the 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 our fatherland.

We hung upon them breathlessly. Our hands unconsciously gripped the hilts of our swords. The hot blood tore through our veins. We heard nothing, were conscious of nothing, but the glorious Magyar hymn whose notes throbbed in every fibre of our bodies.

The first verse was finished, and as Rakoczy began the second every voice joined in. The restrained excitement had burst its bonds like the Danube in flood. It could no longer be held back; it was bound to find a vent, and it found it in song.

I know little of music, but grander music was never heard than that in the 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 hide their emotion.

Then, with a ringing "Elijen Szondi!" in honour of our host, we broke up and passed singly or in groups into the street.

The night was dark and dreary, snow lay thick on the ground, a storm of frozen sleet hurled itself into our faces, and the bitter cold made us shiver 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 against itself," replied one of them.

"Or as that between Batthiany and Kossuth," suggested Rakoczy, after which we lapsed into silence.