Csataképek. English

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  HUNGARIAN SKETCHESINPEACE AND WAR.

  FROM THE HUNGARIAN OFMORITZ JOKAI.

  WITH PREFATORY NOTICE BYEMERIC SZABAD,Author of "Hungary Past and Present."

  EDINBURGH: THOMAS CONSTABLE AND CO.HAMILTON, ADAMS, AND CO., LONDON.JAMES M'GLASHAN, DUBLIN.MDCCCLIV.

  CONSTABLE'S MISCELLANYOFFOREIGN LITERATURE.

  VOL. I.

  EDINBURGH: THOMAS CONSTABLE AND CO.HAMILTON, ADAMS, AND CO., LONDON.JAMES M'GLASHAN, DUBLIN.MDCCCLIV.

  EDINBURGH: T. CONSTABLE, PRINTER TO HER MAJESTY.

  CONTENTS.

  PAGEPREFACE, vDEAR RELATIONS, 1THE BARDY FAMILY, 87CRAZY MARCSA, 133COMORN, 151MOR PERCZEL, 167GERGELY SONKOLYI, 173THE UNLUCKY WEATHERCOCK, 205THE TWO BRIDES, 213THE BREWER, 237THE SZEKELY MOTHER, 279A BALL, 295

  PREFACE.

  Jokai is one of the most popular of the Hungarian prose writers offiction that sprang up a few years before the late war. His wit,flowing style, and vivid descriptions of Hungarian life as it is,joined to a rich fancy and great intensity of feeling, soon made him afavourite with Hungarian readers.

  Among the earlier of his productions, those best known are a novelentitled, "The Common Days," and a collection of minor tales,published under the title of "Wild Flowers."

  The present volume has been written for the most part since the latememorable national movement, and embodies descriptions of several ofthe direst scenes in the civil war which devastated Hungary from theyear 1848 to 1850.

  Most of the Hungarian literati were, at the close of the war, eitherroaming in foreign countries, or wandering in disguise through theirnative land; and the field of literature for a long time threatened toremain neglected and barren--a monument of national grief anddesolation! Those patriotic writers who had for years wielded the penwith the noblest impulses thought to do their duty best by lettingtheir highest faculties lie dormant; and laid aside the lyre ratherthan bring unacceptable offerings to a fatherland laid low, and atthe mercy of foreign swords. And who will deny that there is sometimesgreat virtue in silence, and that the tongue that speaks not is oftenmore eloquent and heroic than that which dares to utter sublime truthseven at the foot of the gibbet? Many of the noble-hearted of Hungaryresigned themselves to such a martyr-like silence, and persevere in itto the present day; while the great bulk of the people, unwilling toenhance the triumph of their victorious enemies by a show ofunavailing lamentation, followed their example. Pesth, which had beenthe scene of literary activity, was at once deserted; the bards ofHungary, abandoning their homes to the wantonness of a foreignsoldiery, went back to the districts whence they had come, there tomingle with those peasants whose chivalry and patriotism affordedconstant themes to their lyres. Their renewed intercourse with theirrustic countrymen served again to revive their hopes, quenched as inthe grave.

  In the sketches of Jokai, the reader will find many originaldelineations of Hungarian life among the middle-class nobility--a raceof men whose manner of life and thought cannot fail to be interesting,however cursorily described. But the Hungarian peasant is in his wayno less attractive. Nothing can be wilder than his dress, consistingof a sheepskin cloak (bunda), or a similar habit of the coarsestcloth, a shirt, scarcely reaching below the waist, and wide linendrawers, to which boots do not often form the necessary complement;yet his easy demeanour, delicate feelings, and especially hislanguage, are such as to put him on a level with the educatedclasses. In conversation he will often use a more dignified stylethan a noble, who, by his exclusive privileges, has had ample scopefor oratory in the county assemblies--select with astonishing tact thebest lyrical productions of the day, and immortalize the lay by a tuneof his own composition. These qualities of the Hungarian rustic--aninsight into whose character will be given to the reader by a few campscenes contained in this volume--must appear the more striking if weremember that the class to which he belongs was for centuries in astate of serfdom, from which it was only liberated by the lateRevolution.

  Independently of the various other calamities which prevented thedevelopment of the physical and mental resources of Hungary during thelast three hundred years, the feudal system alone was aninsurmountable barrier in the way of progress. The privileged classeswere for the most part devising how to kill the time, while the labourof the peasant provided them with the means of gratifying theirpropensities, rarely disquieted by the backward state of the country,which in their eyes seemed all perfection. Properly speaking, it wasonly since the year 1825 that matters had begun to exhibit a materialchange in this respect. Many of the most conceited and thoughtlessamong the nobles had gradually allowed themselves to be convinced thatarts and sciences might add to the charms of an easy life; and thatnational greatness demanded something more than hospitable roofs,fertile plains, and vast herds of cattle. The political and literaryactivity displayed by Counts Szecheny and Kolcsey found noblefollowers, and produced unexpected and astonishing results during thelast twenty-five years. Still, compared with other countries, theprogress of literature was slow; and the works of the most popularauthors, though thrown off in comparatively small impressions, werelong of reaching second editions. The cause of this result must besought in the fact that reading is by no means universal among theHungarians. Among the nobles, who had the means of buying books, onlya few cared to do so, while the condition of the peasants preventedthem from becoming in any way the patrons of literature. This apathywas undoubtedly owing in great part to the absence of a centralnational government; the effect of Hapsburg rule had always been tocrush the political institutions of the country, and repress itsnoblest efforts, regarded as the sure forerunners of revolution. TheCourt of Vienna, besides excluding from public office and emolumentsuch as were known for their independent principles and nationalfeelings, now began gradually to arrogate to itself the right ofcensorship--an institution which alone would have sufficed to cripplethe intellectual progress of the country.

  Such, however, was the mental activity of the present generation, thatHungarian literature, despite the numerous obstacles it had toencounter, made rapid progress, and created in the minds of the peoplea spirit of inquiry and a desire after intellectual pursuits hithertounknown. Never before had the cultivated tongues of the West been somuch studied, or so many valuable translations made from the German,French, and English literatures. That the influence of the first wasoriginally the strongest, and that several of the leading writers inphilosophy and history took for their model the German school, willappear no matter of surprise. The rising writers of a more recentdate, however, insensibly turned their attention to the more livelyliterature of France, and afterwards to that of Britain; and whilesome read with rapture the fictions of Scott, Bulwer, and Dickens,politicians learned to admire the doctrines of Adam Smith and JeremyBentham. Of poets, none were more extensively read and more generallyadmired than Byron and Moore. Thus did the merely literary progressmarch on boldly and combine with the new political movement to furthera change which had already made itself felt in every grade of society,and which was the more remarkable and satisfactory from havingfollowed a too
long period of stagnation.

  A few words will suffice, and perhaps not be superfluous, to bring tothe English reader's mind the deplorable causes of this long neglect.

  The fifteenth century, which illumined the sky of Italy, and thencereacted on the rest of Europe, brought for Hungary nothing but anendless series of wars, distinguished by dazzling militaryachievements, against the hosts of the Sultans, and turning out in theend but useless victories, productive of most ruinous effects andgeneral exhaustion. The next age proved still more disastrous. Therace of the Hunyadis, who in the preceding century had struck terrorinto the hearts of the Ottomans, had disappeared; the weak princesthat ruled after them perished among the carnage of battle, to leavethe crown of St. Stephen vacant, and to open a way for the Hapsburgsto the Hungarian throne. At this juncture, coinciding with the greatreligious movement in Germany, which was rapidly spreading to thebanks of the Theiss, the position of Hungary became more desperatethan ever, although the events that followed far surpassed thegloomiest anticipations. While the majority of the people chose anative for their king, a part of the aristocracy declared forFerdinand of Austria. The rival kings, unable to vanquish each other,called in to their aid the two most powerful monarchs of Europe. Theformer invoked the assistance of Solyman the Great; Ferdinand found awilling ally in his brother, Charles V. Thus it happened that, tillthe beginning of the eighteenth century, Hungary presented the aspectof a vast camp, exposed to the insolence of foreign mercenaries andthe tyranny of the Hapsburg emperors, and at once protected and laidwaste by its allies the Turks. Unfortunately, the Mussulman militarycolonies, which subsisted in Hungary from the time of Solyman toAchmet III., while adding to the distress of the people continuallymenaced by famine even during the years of temporary peace, were moreignorant than those whom they affected to protect, and thereforefailed to produce on the Hungarians those effects which the Moors, incircumstances somewhat similar, had wrought upon the Spaniards. Nor isanything now left to call to mind the presence of the Turks inHungary, except a few words that slipped into the Hungarian language.

  The state of the country in the eighteenth century, somewhat relievedby the reign of Maria Theresa, was, after such a long series ofcalamities, not much calculated to foster the cultivation of scienceand poetry; nor did any fresh symptoms of the national life springclearly into view before the beginning of the present century. True,that even amid the storms of the past generations, there appeared fromtime to time writers, whose names survive to the present day. But,with a few exceptions, chiefly in the department of poetry, all theworks of that time were but insipid imitations which aspired to bethought original, but were little fitted either to please or toinstruct.

  After such a gloomy past as has been here shortly described, it willseem very natural, that with the awakening of the national mind thecareer of literature, suddenly interrupted by the late war, should bebold, steadily progressive, and triumphant, despite the narrow andcontemptible canons of censors. As to prose fiction, it must beobserved that it is of quite recent growth. The beginning of thisspecies of composition was made about fifteen years ago by BaronNicholaus Josika, who soon found successful rivals in Kuthy and BaronEoetvoes. Jokai, who is now the favourite of the public, belongs, as hasbeen already observed, to the younger staff of writers.

  It would be a mistake to imagine, from the Eastern origin of theMagyars, that the tales and romances to be found in the Hungarianlanguage bear any resemblance to the _Arabian Nights_, or the familiarpoetry of the East in general. None of the writers above mentionedcarries the reader to fairy realms, and superhuman characters. Inplot, tendency, and execution, Hungarian prose fiction is identifiedwith the modern novel of the rest of Europe--deriving, withal, itsmost pleasing characteristics from the peculiar features of Hungarianlife and history, as well as from the native idiom, which differsentirely in its figures, and many of its expressions, from the othercultivated languages. It must, however, here be added, that the morethe time approached to the great catastrophe, the more the generalliterature partook of a political character--a circumstanceattributable to the censorship, which did not allow politicalquestions to be discussed in their proper place. The novel or romancewriter, not being so suspicious to the censor as the politician, oftenintermingled his love scenes and adventures with single touches,unfinished periods, and marks of exclamation, which escaped thevigilance and attention of the scissors-holder, but were only too wellunderstood by those to whom they were addressed. Even the literaryjournals, sternly interdicted from meddling with politics, swarmedwith allusions to the questions of the day; and while tending tocultivate the taste of the public, their usefulness was greater thanmight have been expected in rearing new labourers for the field ofliterature. In the presence of a public eminently conservative asregards book buying, not a tenth part of the more highly gifted youthwould have gone farther than the composing of some slight specimenswhile at college, had it not been for the encouragement given by threeweekly journals. The first of these periodicals, entitled the_Honderu_, was started by Lazarus Horvath, a gentleman who hadtravelled much in Europe, and was familiar with high life, and who isknown as the unsuccessful translator of _Childe Harold_. The two otherjournals, started afterwards, were conducted by Frankenburg andVachot. It was through the medium of these latter papers that theyoung bard Petoefi sent forth his wild, touching strains, and thatJokai, his intimate friend, became gradually known, when theunexpected events of 1848 changed the face of the whole country.Disastrous civil feuds, commenced on the one hand by the Slavonicpopulation in the south of Hungary, and on the other by theWallachians or Roumins in Transylvania, were followed by a desolatinggeneral war; and for nearly two years nothing was heard but the din ofarms. Two or three daily papers alone testified that literary life wasnot yet extinct in the nation. As almost every one did who felt in anyway capable of serving his country, Jokai followed the Government(obliged to abandon the capital to the Austrians in the beginning of1849) to the town of Debreczin, on the other side of the Theiss, wherehe conducted for a short time a small political Journal. The rapidprogress of the Hungarian arms in the same year, followed by theRussian invasion, was, as the reader may be aware, suddenly convertedinto a most disastrous defeat. The subjugated country was handed overto General Haynau; the nationality of its people was destroyed, andits noblest defenders fled into other lands, or awaited certain deathin their own. The country people, struck with fear and amazement,confined themselves in sombre silence to their homes, which werefilled with disguised literati, and other classes of delinquents; thedifferent races of the population, their hands yet wet with blood,gazed confusedly on the ruins of their own working; the streets ofPesth, the gay capital, were deserted, and the single voice that brokethe deep silence was that which pronounced in its official organsentences of death, imprisonment, and confiscation. In such a statethe country continued for several months, when even Haynau, a few daysbefore being removed from his post, began to loathe his work, and tosign pardons as carelessly as he had hitherto subscribed sentences ofdeath. It was at that juncture that a few straggling literati,gradually assembling at Pesth, commenced to issue a literaryperiodical, to which Jokai largely contributed. The press, it must beobserved, was placed under the control of the police, established onan Austrian model. The head and chief members of the police belongingto the other parts of the Austrian empire, and totally ignorant of theHungarian language, were naturally obliged to employ some natives toperuse the literary productions and translate their contents; afterdue consideration of these, the verdict was passed. The consequence ofsuch a state of things was, that very frequently a single seeminglyportentous phrase, or even the mere title, doomed to oblivion the mostinnocent work of the brain, while more substantial writing was allowedto make its way into the country, and frequently to be againprohibited, after having become familiar to thousands.

  Most of the sketches contained in this volume, and which Jokai wroteunder the name of Sajo, underwent this fate. The latest production ofJokai's pe
n is a novel entitled _The Magyar Nabob_, which is highlypraised. His strictly historical pieces, depicting scenes of the civilwar, though recalling the more vividly to mind the dreary and not yetforgotten past, were most eagerly read in Hungary; nor will theEnglish reader peruse without deep emotion the fate of the Bardyfamily, contained in this volume.

  Within the last two years, the state of literature in Hungary, ifjudged by the number of new books published, appears astonishinglyprogressive. The chief reason of this phenomenon may be found in thedenationalizing measures of the Government, attempting to suppress thenational idiom by excluding it from the public schools, andsubstituting in its place the German--a policy attempted withoutsuccess by Joseph II. about the end of the last century.

  That the people--though now perhaps more willing than ever to givetheir full support to literature--are inclined to look with somesuspicion at the productions of a press in the hands of foreignauthorities, and that many branches of a more serious nature thannovel-writing must remain excluded from the sphere of literaryactivity in a country subjected to martial law, need hardly beremarked.

  Besides, some of the more prominent and elder authors still perseverein their sad mournful silence, while others have sunk from a state ofpatriotic gloom into mental imbecility. But whatever shape Hungarianliterature may henceforth assume, it is undoubtedly true that muchthat has issued within the last few years from the Hungarian press isworth translating; and I believe that the present volume, presented ina faithful and easy translation, and likely to be soon followed byseveral others of a similar class, will be found to introduce theEnglish reader to scenes hitherto undescribed, and to characters asinteresting as unusual.

  EMERIC SZABAD.

  HUNGARIAN SKETCHES.