Neath the Hoof of the Tartar.

by Miklos Josika.

INTRODUCTION.

Baron Miklos Josika, the Walter Scott of Hungary, was born at Torda, in Transylvania, on April 28th, 1796. While quite a child, he lost both his parents, and was brought up at the house and under the care of his grandmother, Anna Bornemissza, a descendant of Jokai's heroine of the same name in "'Midst the Wild Carpathians." Of the young n.o.bleman's many instructors, the most remarkable seems to have been an _emigre_ French Colonel, who gave him a liking for the literature of France, which was not without influence on his future development. After studying law for a time at Klausenberg to please his friends, he became a soldier to please himself, and in his seventeenth year accompanied the Savoy dragoon regiment to Italy. During the campaign of the Mincio in 1814, he so distinguished himself by his valour that he was created a first lieutenant on the field of battle, and was already a captain when he entered Paris with the allies in the following year. In 1818, at the very beginning of his career, he ruined his happiness by his unfortunate marriage with Elizabeth Kallay. According to Josika's biographer, Luiza Szaak,[1] young Josika was inveigled into this union by a designing mother-in-law, and any chance of happiness the young couple might have had, if left to themselves, was speedily dashed by the interference of the father of the bride, who defended all his daughter's caprices against the much-suffering husband. Even the coming of children could not cement this woeful wedding, which terminated in the practical separation of spouses who were never meant to be consorts.

[Footnote 1: Baro Josika Miklos elete es munkai.]

Josika further offended his n.o.ble kinsmen by devoting himself to literature. It may seem a paradox to say so, yet it is perfectly true, that in the early part of the present century, with some very few honourable exceptions, the upper cla.s.ses in Hungary addressed only their _servants_ in Hungarian. Latin was the official language of the Diet, while polite circles conversed in barbarous French. These were the days when, as Jokai has reminded us, the greatest insult you could offer to an Hungarian lady was to address her in her native tongue. It required some courage, therefore, in the young Baron to break away from the feudal traditions of his privileged caste and use the plebeian Magyar dialect as a literary vehicle. His first published book, "Abafi"

(1836), an historical romance written under the direct influence of Sir Walter Scott, whom Josika notoriously took for his model, made a great stir in the literary world of Hungary. "Hats off, gentlemen," was how Szontagh, the editor of the _Figyelmezo_, the leading Hungarian newspaper of the day, began his review of this n.o.ble romance. Josika was over forty when he first seriously began to write, but the grace and elegance of his style, the maturity of his judgment, the skilfulness of his characterization--all pointed to a long apprenticeship in letters.

Absolute originality cannot indeed be claimed for him. Unlike Jokai, he owed very much to his contemporaries. He began as an imitator of Scott, as we have seen, and he was to end as an imitator of d.i.c.kens, as we shall see presently. But he was no slavish copyist. He gave nearly as much as he took. Moreover, he was the first to naturalize the historical romance in Hungary, and if, as a novelist, he is inferior to Walter Scott, he is inferior to him alone.

In Hungary, at any rate, his rare merits were instantly recognised and rewarded.

Two years after the publication of "Abafi," he was elected a member of the Hungarian Academy, four years later he became the President of the Kisfaludy Tarsasag, the leading Magyar literary society. All cla.s.ses, without exception, were attracted and delighted by the books of this new novelist, which followed one another with bewildering rapidity.

"Zolyomi," written two years before "Abafi," was published a few months later, together with "Konnyelmuek." Shortly afterwards came the two great books which are generally regarded as his masterpieces, "Az utolso Batory" and "Csehek Magyarorszagon," and a delightful volume of fairy tales, "elet es tunderhon," in three volumes. In 1843 was published "Zrinyi a Kolto," in which some critics saw a declension, but which Jokai regards as by far the greatest of Josika's historical romances.

Finally may be mentioned as also belonging to the pre-revolutionary period, "Josika Istvan," an historical romance in five volumes, largely based upon the family archives; "Egy ketemeletes haz," a social romance in six volumes; and "Ifju Bekesi Ferencz kalandjai," a very close and most clever imitation of the "Pickwick Papers," both in style and matter, written under the pseudonym of Moric Alt. It is a clever skit of the peccadilloes and absurdities of the good folks of Budapest of all cla.s.ses, full of genuine humour, and was welcomed with enthusiasm.

On the outbreak of the War of Independence in 1848, Baron Josika magnanimously took the popular side, though he was now an elderly man, and had much to lose and little to gain from the Revolution. He was elected a member of the Honved Government; countenanced all its acts; followed it from place to place till the final collapse, and then fled to Poland. Ultimately he settled at Brussels, where for the next twelve years he lived entirely by his pen, for his estates were confiscated, and he himself was condemned to death by the triumphant and vindictive Austrian Government, which had to be satisfied, however, with burning him in effigy.

Josika was to die an exile from his beloved country, but the bitterness of banishment was somewhat tempered by the touching devotion of his second wife, the Baroness Julia Podmaniczky, who also became his amanuensis and translator. The first novel of the exilic period was "Eszter," written anonymously for fear his works might be prohibited in Hungary, in which case the unhappy author would have run the risk of actual want. For the same reason all the novels written between 1850 and 1860 (when he resumed his own name on his t.i.tle-pages) are "by the author of 'Eszter.'" In 1864, by the doctor's advice, Josika moved to Dresden, and there, on February 27th, 1865, he died, worn out by labour and sorrow. He seems, at times, to have had a hard struggle for an honourable subsistence, and critics, latterly, seem to have been neglectful or unkind. Ultimately his ashes were brought home to his native land and deposited reverently in the family vault at Klausenberg; statues were raised in his honour at the Hungarian capital, and the greatest of Hungarian novelists, Maurus Jokai, delivered an impa.s.sioned funeral oration over the remains of the man who did yeoman's service for the Magyar literature, and created and popularized the historical novel in Hungary.

For it is as the Hungarian historical romancer _par excellence_ that Josika will always be remembered, and inasmuch as the history of no other European country is so stirring and so dramatic as that of Hungary, and Josika was always at infinite pains to go direct to original doc.u.ments for his facts and local colouring, he will always be sure of an audience in an age, like our own, when the historical novel generally (witness the immense success of Sienkiewicz) is once more the favourite form of fiction. Among the numerous romances "by the author of 'Eszter,'" the work, ent.i.tled "Jo a Tatar" ("The Tartar is coming"), now presented to the English public under the t.i.tle of "'Neath the Hoof of the Tartar," has long been recognised by Hungarian critics as "the most pathetic" of Josika's historical romances. The groundwork of the tale is the terrible Tartar invasion of Hungary during the reign of Bela IV.

(1235-1270), when the Mongol hordes devastated Magyarland from end to end. Two love episodes, however, relieve the gloom of this terrific picture, "and the historical imagination" of the great Hungarian romancer has painted the heroism and the horrors of those far distant times every whit as vividly as Sienkiewicz has painted the secular struggle between the Red Cross Knights and the semi-barbarous heroes of old Lithuania.

R. NISBET BAIN.

'Neath the Hoof of the Tartar.

CHAPTER I.

RUMOURS.

"Well, Talabor, my boy, what is it? Anything amiss?" asked Master Peter, as the page entered the hall, where he and his daughter were at breakfast.

It was a bare, barn-like apartment, but the plates and dishes were of silver.

"Nothing amiss, sir," was the answer, "only a guest has just arrived, who would like to pay his respects, but--he is on foot!"

It was this last circ.u.mstance, evidently, which was perplexing Talabor.

"A guest?--on foot?" repeated Master Peter, as if he too were puzzled.

"Yes, sir; Abbot Roger, he calls himself, and says you know him!"

"What! good Father Roger! Know him? Of course I do!" cried Peter, springing from his chair. "Where is he? Why didn't you bring him in at once? I am not his Grace of Esztergom to keep a good man like him waiting in the entry!"

"The servants are just brushing the dust off him, sir," replied the page, "and he wants to wash his feet, but he will be ready to wait upon you directly, sir, if you please!"

"By all means! but he is no 'Abbot,' Talabor; he is private chaplain to Master Stephen, my brother!"

Talabor had not long been in Master Peter's service, and knew no more of Master Stephen than he did of Father Roger, so he said nothing and left the room with a bow.

"Blessed be the name of the Lord Jesus, Father Roger!" cried Master Peter, hurrying forward to meet his guest, as he entered the dining-hall.

"For ever and ever!" responded the Father, while Dora raised his hand to her lips, delighted to see her old friend again.

"But how is this, Father Roger?" Peter asked in high good humour, after some inquiry as to his brother's welfare; "how is this? Talabor, _deak_ announced you as 'Abbot.' What is the meaning of it?"

"Quite true, sir! Thanks to his Holiness and the King, I have been 'Abbot' the last month or two; but just now I am on my way to Pest by command of his Majesty."

"What! an abbot travel in this fashion, on foot! Why, our abbots make as much show as the magnates, some of them. Too modest, too modest, Father! Besides, you'll never get there! Is the King's business urgent?"

"Hardly that, I think; though--but, after all, why prophesy evil before one must!"

"Prophesy evil?" repeated Dora.

"Prophecies are in the hands of the Lord!" interposed her father quickly. "Good or bad, it rests with Him whether they shall be fulfilled. So, Father Roger, let us have it, whatever it is."

"The King's commands were that I should be at Pest by the end of the month," answered Roger, "so I shall be in time, even if I do travel somewhat slowly. As for the prophesying--without any gift of prophecy I can tell you so much as this, that _something_ is coming! True, it is far off as yet, but to be forewarned is to be forearmed, and I fancy the King is one who likes to look well ahead."

"But what is it, Father Roger? do tell us!" cried Dora anxiously.

"Nothing but rumours so far, dear child, but they are serious, and it behoves us to be on our guard."

"Oktai and his brethren, eh?" said Master Peter, with some scorn. "Oh, those Tartars! The Tartars are coming! the Tartars are coming! Why, they have been coming for years! When did we first hear that cry? I declare I can't remember," and he laughed.

"I am afraid it is no laughing matter, though," said Father Roger. "I daresay you have not forgotten Brother Julian, who returned home only two or three years ago."

But here Dora interposed. She remembered Father Roger telling her a story of the Dominican brothers, who had gone to try and find the "old home" of the Magyars and convert to Christianity those who had stayed behind, and she wanted to hear it again, if her father did not mind.

Father Roger accordingly told how, of the first four brothers, only one had returned home, and he had died soon after, but not before he had described how, while travelling as a merchant, he had fallen in with men who spoke Hungarian and told him where their home, "Ugria," was to be found.[2] Four more brothers had been despatched on the same quest by King Bela, who was desirous of increasing the population of his country, and particularly wished to secure "kinsmen" if he could. Two only of the brothers persevered through the many perils and privations which beset their way. One of these died, and Julian, the survivor, entering the service of a wealthy Mohammedan, travelled with him to a land of many rich towns, densely populated.[3] Here he met a woman who had actually come from the "old home," and still farther north he had found the "brothers of the Magyars," who could understand him and whom he could understand.

[Footnote 2: Ugria extended from the North Sea to the rivers Kama, Irtisch, and Tobol, west and east of the Ural Mountains. The Ugrians had come in more ancient times from the high lands of the Altai Mountains.

Hungarian was still spoken in Ugria, then called Juharia, as late as the beginning of the sixteenth century.]

[Footnote 3: Great Bulgaria, lying on both sides of the Volga, at its junction with the Kama.]

They were, of course, heathen, but not idolaters; they were nomads, wandering from place to place, living on flesh and mare's milk, and knowing nothing of agriculture. They were greatly interested in all that Julian told them, for they knew from old traditions that some of their race had migrated westwards.

But at the time of his visit they were much perturbed by news brought to them by their neighbours on the east. These were Tartar, or Turkish, tribes, who, having several times attacked them and been repulsed, had finally entered into an alliance with them. A messenger from the Tartar Khan had just arrived to announce, not only that the Tartar tribes were themselves on the move and but five days' journey away, but that they were moving to escape from a "thick-headed" race, numerous as the sands of the sea which was behind them, on their very heels, and threatening to overwhelm all the kingdoms of the world, as it had already overwhelmed great part of Asia.