The merry party made light of it all, crying "good speed" to those which flew over their heads, offering a gla.s.s to renew their strength, promising to let down ropes to such as fell into the moat. In short, what they had looked upon with awe from a distance, they now considered capital diversion.

The poor major suffered the most exquisite pangs of terror: bobbing his head each time a sh.e.l.l flew over the ramparts at the distance of a hundred fathoms, or starting aside from the pa.s.sing b.a.l.l.s; and as often as a bomb burst, he almost fell on his back in the most violent contortions.

Meanwhile, as the day closed, the sounds of music, as well as the beauty of the evening, had attracted various groups of well-dressed people to the ramparts; and notwithstanding the thundering of the cannon, the fair s.e.x formed no small portion of the curious, whose desire of amus.e.m.e.nt overcame their timidity.

The moon rose brilliantly upon the landscape; and by its bewitching light the youth abandoned themselves to the dance, with as little thought as if the thundering around were a salute in honour of a bridal festival.

The national dance seemed especially to please the General; and once, when he expressed his admiration by a hearty 'bravo' at some dexterous turn, a merry little dark-eyed sylph tripped up to him, and succeeded in leading him forth to the "Wedding of Tolna"--a favourite dance, where he allowed himself to be wheeled about through all the mazes, performing each manuvre required of him with that almost English coolness which characterized him.

A little episode now occurred, which caused a short interruption. A grenade fell burning, almost at the feet of the General. Several of the dancers fled, while the boldest of the party wished to pour water over it, and others in jest proposed to cover it with a hat.

"Let all remain in their places!" cried the General.

At this command everybody remained stationary. Even the women endeavoured to conceal their fear, and one or two of the girls peeped inquisitively forward, scarcely comprehending the danger with which they were threatened.

The bearded major, however, seemed fully alive to all the horror of his situation; for no sooner did the grenade fall hissing among them, than he broke at once through all constraint, and with a roar like a bull, as if in compensation for all he had hitherto endured in silence, rushed from the spot as if he were possessed by legion, and without looking right or left, precipitated himself into the moat, regardless of its height. Providentially he reached the bottom, at a depth of four-and-twenty feet, with bones unbroken, and there lay upon his stomach, with closed eyes, awaiting the issue of the hideous catastrophe.

The grenade meanwhile turned quickly round like a spinning-top on the spot where it had fallen, the rocket flame from within describing a bright circle round it. The bystanders breathlessly awaited the moment of its explosion.

Suddenly it ceased turning, and the fiery circle disappeared. Whoever is acquainted with the nature of these b.a.l.l.s, will know, that between the spinning round of the grenade-rocket in its flame and that instant in which--the spark having reached the powder--it explodes, there is an interval of a few seconds, in which the grenade stands still.

In this interval it was that the commander suddenly rose, and approaching the grenade, lifted it in his hands and dashed it into the moat.

The sudden explosion which instantly followed proved that the ball had just been thrown in time, while the yell which immediately succeeded seemed to indicate that the direction had not been equally well chosen; and in truth the grenade had burst scarcely two spans from the unlucky major, although, strange to say, with no more serious consequence than that from that day forward he has heard with difficulty with the right ear.

After this little bravado--whose authenticity more than one eye-witness can guarantee--the General allowed the company to disperse; and from that day fear seemed banished from all hearts; and grenades, and other fiery implements, were looked upon with even greater coolness than before.

On taking leave of his guests, the General promised them a tranquil night, to compensate for the agitation of the day; and he was as good as his word, for that very night he made a sally with some troops above the Nadorvonal,[44] and compelled the enemy to withdraw their battery.

[Footnote 44: Palatine's line.]

Time flies; the past is gradually forgotten, and with it the past glory. Where are the glorious hopes--the bright dreams? All are gone.

Comorn! monument of war! deserted and unhappy town! what remains of all thy power and glory? The blackened ruins, and the Comorn Honved officers![45]

[Footnote 45: When the fortress capitulated, the officers of the national guard were suffered to quit the country free--one of the conditions for which they had stipulated.]

MOR PERCZEL.

In the January of 1848 it had not yet entered the most speculative imagination that war might break out before the year had ended. Our humane patriots thought of anything in the world rather than of the manufacture of gunpowder; and when, during some unusually riotous munic.i.p.al elections, one or two of our n.o.ble countrymen were shot through the head, the papers, for several weeks afterwards, were full of comments on the horrors of such unheard-of bloodshed.

It was about this time that the journals were much occupied with the wonders of a certain magnetic somnambulist, who foretold various strange things, which, to the astonishment of all who heard them, actually came to pa.s.s.

She foretold, among other things, the ruin of Comorn! Unhappy town! it might have been well for her if all her misfortunes had been included in this prophecy, but alas! her fate was doomed to exceed even this, in the direful results of the siege. Another of the prophecies of the somnambulist was, that the country should be visited by cholera, and that those whom it carried off would be the happiest.

When Mor (Morice) Perczel was sent as deputy to Presburg, he was obliged to pa.s.s a night at Vacz, where he heard so much of this marvellous somnambulist that he determined not to leave the place without seeing her, and accordingly he got an acquaintance to escort him in the evening to her lodging.

On entering the apartment, he beheld, by the dim light of a lamp, a very young girl, whose extreme paleness gave her an almost supernatural 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 had just entered. He had recommended the use of magnetism for the cure of spasms at the heart, and it was now the sixth week that she had been under the magnetic influence. She was seldom awake, but still seldomer asleep; her usual state being something between the two--a constant unconscious reverie, accompanied by acute sensibility to the pleasure or pain of others, and a total absence of personal feeling. As her physician approached, and she came within the magnetic influence, she slowly opened her eyes, and fixed them steadfastly on his face without moving her eyelids. When he took her hand, a cold, faint smile pa.s.sed over her countenance, and the trembling ceased; her physician then began to stroke her face, arms, and breast, with the tips of his fingers, at first slowly, but quickening the motion by degrees, while he kept his eyes steadily fixed upon his patient.

The girl continued motionless; her eyelids alone seemed to contend with the irresistible power which always gained upon her, closing by degrees and then opening wide again, while the pupils were unusually dilated.

Her whole countenance gradually underwent a wonderful change: her features a.s.sumed a character inexpressibly sweet and sad; she sighed and wept, her lips parted, while a calm smile settled on them. At last, her head sank on the cushion of her chair, and she fell asleep.

The physician now motioned to Mor Perczel to approach within the magnetic circle. Suddenly the girl's countenance a.s.sumed an expression of surprise and uneasiness.

"Who is this?" asked the physician, in a low, familiar tone.

The girl answered slowly, and with hesitation, "One of--our future--greatest leaders!"

Perczel smiled. "Perhaps in the camp of the Diet," he thought to himself.

"No, not in the Diet," replied the girl, to whom he had not communicated 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 the Hungarian 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 considerable loss.

[Footnote 46: South-west of Pesth, in the county of Stuhlweissenberg.]

The real cause of the loss of this battle has never been clearly proved up to the present day. It was enough, and more than enough to Perczel, that the battle was lost, his troops scattered, his positions occupied, his colours taken, and the gallant Zrinyi battalion, the flower of his army, cut to pieces or taken prisoners.

When he returned to Pesth after this battle, one of the town magistrates, 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 I remember, that the somnambulist foretold me this just a year ago. If I did not believe that Gorgei was the cause of our losing the battle, I should be inclined to think there had been witchcraft in it. Well, the Germans 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 was intrusted with their escort thither.

Having accomplished this, he advanced with a small army towards Szolnok, where the enemy had encamped, and were fortifying themselves during the cold season.

One fine misty morning, Perczel crossed the Tisza[48] on the ice to the enemy's nearest position, and, opening fire upon them, obliged them to retreat to Czegled, whither he pursued them.