CHAPTER III.THE INSURRECTION IN FULL SWING.For some time the flames from the burning building leaped high into the heavens, and, spreading out, lit an immense area by their glow; but gradually the vivid red grew paler, and we concluded that the insurgents, having captured the arsenal, were now trying to extinguish the fire.A nearer view, however, made it plain that our informant had brought false news, as the garrison still maintained a fierce fight against the students and the National Guards. The scene was more striking even than that at the hôtel of the minister of war. The darkness of the night was illumined by the flames which continually burst forth from one part of the arsenal, while the flashes from hundreds of rifles showed that the roofs and windows of the adjoining houses were occupied by the insurgents."Not much chance for the garrison," I said. "All these houses command the arsenal."Still the unequal contest continued; the soldiers stuck to their posts, and while some threw water on the flames, the others returned the fire of the rioters.The sharp-shooters on the roofs and at the windows suffered little, but their allies in the street, being more exposed, by no means escaped lightly.All through the night the struggle lasted, but between five and six o'clock in the morning it became plain to every one that the powder-magazine was in imminent danger of being blown up.Then the brave garrison agreed to an honourable capitulation; and as they marched out, the people, with savage cries of triumph, flung themselves into the building.The students and many of the National Guards did their utmost to save the magazine; of the others, some sought for weapons, while the remainder appeared bent solely upon destruction.After a tremendous amount of work, the fire was got under, but really I expected to see it break out again in a dozen different places.The more foolish of the rioters played the strangest antics, and having obtained both rifles and ammunition, found pleasure in firing them at anybody or anything.All the treasures were brought into the streets, and the swords of the great Scanderbeg and Prince Eugene became the property of men of the lowest classes.We saw, without being able to prevent it, the helmet of that Francis the First who was taken prisoner at the battle of Pavia, tossed from one to the other of the ignorant mob, and watched the destruction of the armour once worn by the mighty Wallenstein and the faithful Daun.We could not find Rakoczy; so, after searching a long while, we decided on returning to our lodging.The streets were less crowded now than they had been during the last twenty-four hours. Numbers of people, tired by the fighting and excitement, had gone to rest; others, shocked by the excesses committed, had withdrawn; and indeed the broadening daylight made every one look more or less ashamed of the night's events.From the talk of the rioters we learned that the emperor had left Schönbrunn with his family for Olmutz, and that Count Auersperg had sent four thousand troops to form an escort. The rest of the army had been stationed in the gardens of the Schwartzenberg and Belvidere palaces on heights commanding the city.But for the order to cease firing, these same soldiers would most likely have nipped the insurrection in the bud.Still we did not meet Rakoczy; but a scrap of paper pushed beneath the door of our room relieved our anxiety concerning him."8 a.m.--Call again later. Don't leave before seeing me.--J.R.""Now we can go to bed with easy minds," I said, passing the paper to Stephen.We were both exceedingly tired, and having once fallen asleep, knew nothing further till awakened by a loud knocking."Rakoczy," murmured Stephen lazily. "Let him in, George. There's no more rest for us.""The Joyous" now began to troll forth a Magyar hunting-song, and the sound of the rich, full notes put all sleep to flight. Dressing hastily, I went into the sitting-room and opened the door.Street fighting and loss of sleep appeared to have little effect on our companion. His handsome face was bright and cheerful as usual, and bidding me finish my toilet, he continued his song."So the insurgents carried out their threat?" I said, when, some time later, the three of us sat down to dinner.Rakoczy nodded."Heard the news at the arsenal?" he asked. "What a rush it was! The crowd swept me away like a chip in the Danube. And as to getting back; there wasn't the slightest chance.""We were separated too," said Stephen, "but met again in front of the hôtel. George had quite an adventure. Rescued a royalist maiden from the mob; quite like a hero of romance.""A charming girl--the daughter of Baron von Arnstein. But Stephen has left out his share of the business;" and I straightway related all that had happened."Fortunate youngsters," said Rakoczy. "And a plucky girl. We shall soon be looking for an Austro-Hungarian alliance. I have some news, too, though not as pleasant as yours. Count Beula is in the city.""What of that?" asked Stephen coldly."A great deal. He is the head of the Hungarian Committee formed to aid the Viennese in their insurrection.""The work ought to suit him," I said carelessly."So it will till the Austrians recapture the town; then he'll change sides fast enough.""Very likely," said Rakoczy. "But that isn't the point. At present the rebels are victorious, and Count Beula is a man of importance.""Well, it has nothing to do with us," observed Stephen rather crossly."Wrong again, my boy. By virtue of his office, he orders you to appear before the committee this very evening;" and the speaker took a printed paper from his pocket.Stephen tore the document in halves, and threw the pieces on the floor."I won't go!" he exclaimed haughtily."Yes, you will."My brother sprang to his feet. His face was crimson, and he angrily demanded what Rakoczy meant."Don't lose your temper. The explanation's simple. Unless you attend, the committee will brand you either coward or traitor.""Rakoczy is right, Stephen. My advice is to go and hear what the count has to say."Stephen examined his pistols and reached down his sword."Very well," he answered grimly; "but I'm afraid the meeting won't be any the pleasanter for my company. When do we start?""The Joyous" laughed genially."Not for a couple of hours yet; but if you're tired of the house we can take a stroll through the town."Stephen and I considered this a good suggestion, so, having locked the door, we went out on a tour of inspection.By this time there was no mistaking the fact that the city proper was completely in the hands of the insurgents. The tricolour floated over the principal buildings; the National Guards patrolled the streets, and directed the operations of the people who worked feverishly at the strengthening of the barricades; the gates were guarded by armed students enrolled as soldiers. Of the imperial government not a trace seemed to be left.Turning back from the Scotch Gate, Rakoczy led us through several streets, and finally stopped before a house which, outwardly at least, differed in no wise from its neighbours.Our guide, speaking a word to the doorkeeper, led the way into an ordinary passage, at the farther end of which a second janitor directed us to a large room.Several men had already assembled, and others came afterwards, bringing up the number to perhaps twenty.They sat in rows facing a raised desk, and we, being of modest dispositions, took our seats right at the back."How long before the mummery begins?" asked Stephen."Don't know. Never was here before. Expect they're waiting for the count. Choice company some of these gentlemen, eh?""Half of them, at least, are not Hungarians," I said."Friends of Hungary, my boy. A few Magyars like Beula, half a dozen Poles, several Italians from the Austrian provinces, a German or two from Munich, and a red republican from Paris. Here comes the count;" and a hum of applause greeted the president as he took his place at the desk.He was a man about Rakoczy's age, a true Magyar in appearance, richly dressed, and exhibiting an air of easy self-assurance which suited him well.As soon as the applause subsided, he rose and began in German to congratulate his associates on the triumph of the revolution. The emperor, he said, was a fugitive, the empire destroyed; henceforth the Austrians were a free people, and the brave Hungarians would hold out to them the right hand of brotherhood.This statement produced frantic cheering, and the president had some difficulty in restoring quiet.Much yet remained to be done, he continued; but before opening the regular business he had a pleasing duty to perform, to welcome to that meeting, in the name of the committee, three Hungarians, the possessors of glorious names--names that would endure while Hungary remained a nation.This harangue had exhausted Stephen's patience, and when the speaker went on to glorify the actions of bygone Rakoczys and Botskays, he sprang to his feet."Now for a thunder-clap!" exclaimed my companion.Unlike the president, Stephen spoke in the Hungarian tongue, which prevented the majority of his hearers from understanding a word he said.The others, however, did not miss a syllable, as their angry faces showed, and the hand of more than one man played ominously with his weapons. But Stephen, in his passion, heeded nothing."I am a Hungarian, but not an assassin!" he cried boldly. "We will fight the Austrians on the field of battle as long as any of you; but we won't help to slaughter defenceless old men, nor butcher brave soldiers on the altar of God. Magyars, I am ashamed of you! Has the ancient spirit descended so low as to find cause for satisfaction in a brutal murder? Let the Viennese fight out their own quarrel; Hungary is strong enough to stand alone.""My brother is right!" I cried, before the men could recover from their astonishment. "Only last evening I stood by the side of Count Latour when he was hacked to death by brutal savages who shouted, 'Long live Hungary!' Have we not been shamed enough by the riff-raff of our own people in Pesth? In the olden days we met our foes in the open. If we have not the courage to do so now, let us be quiet, and not try to screen ourselves behind a petty squabble in the Austrian capital.""I," said Rakoczy, in his musical voice, "am a Magyar of the Magyars. I fight against Ferdinand the emperor, who takes from us our privileges; but Ferdinand the king is the lawful ruler of Hungary, and when he restores our rights I shall hold that man a traitor who raises his voice against him.""Well spoken!" cried Stephen.--"And now, Count Beula, President of the Committee and slaughterer of old men, you know what at least three Hungarians think."Before he had finished speaking, a dozen men placed themselves between us and the door to bar our passage."Are we to be your next victims?" asked Stephen scornfully. "Well, every man to his trade."Rakoczy had levelled his pistols, and I followed his example, though nearly a score against three made long odds. Fortunately the threatened struggle was prevented by Count Beula, who ordered his men to let us go."They will not escape their punishment," he said. "The nation shall judge them.""As it shall judge you," I answered."Come," said Rakoczy, taking my arm; "let us leave before your brother starts on the war-path again.""The next thing," I remarked, when we were again in the street, "is to get away from Vienna. It seems to me that we are in an awkward fix. The imperialists will probably kill us because we are Hungarians, and the insurgents because we are not.""We can go to-morrow, unless the count has given orders to arrest us at the gates.""Perhaps it will be better," exclaimed Stephen. "I am tired of Vienna.""I hope the fräulein will not be hurt in the scuffle.""Why not stay behind to protect her?" said Rakoczy in his laughing way, little dreaming that we should all three be compelled to remain.Yet that is what happened, as the next morning the gates were zealously guarded, and we tried in vain to pass. It was rumoured that Jellachich, the Ban of Croatia, had arrived within a few hours' march of the town, and the insurgents were taking extraordinary precautions.Guns were placed above the gates, and men stood near with lighted matches; National Guards patrolled everywhere; ten thousand men--students, Nationals, men in blouses, and coatless artisans with upturned shirt-sleeves--lined the ramparts; crowds thronged the steeples, gazing earnestly for the first signs of the savage Croats.We spent the day in ineffectual efforts to leave the capital, and on trying again the next morning found we had lost the last chance.Jellachich was actually in sight, and from the roofs of the lofty buildings we could see the varied uniforms of his motley army.The red caps of the Illyrians, the grey blouses of the Seregranes, and the scarlet mantles of the Croats, formed a portion of the picture, while in the background could be distinguished the imperial uniform of the Austrian cavalry and artillery."No running away now," I said. "We must stay and see the end of it."Rakoczy laughed. His main regret was that we had no part in the approaching conflict."If the Viennese really hold out," Stephen said, "there will be plenty to be done in caring for the wounded, and we will help in that."For the next three or four days the city was in a state of suppressed excitement. Of course the air was thick with rumours, mostly ridiculous, but eagerly believed by the credulous burghers. Meanwhile only one thing was certain--that Jellachich, changing his position, had joined Count Auersperg in the Belvidere Gardens."They'll wait for Prince Windischgratz, who can bring twenty thousand men from Bohemia," said Rakoczy, "and then good-bye to the insurrection."Since the terrible evening when Latour lost his life, the insurgents had refrained from violence; and although many robberies were committed, the disorder was far less than we had expected.Every day I walked past the residence of the Baroness von Arnstein, but all was quiet there, and once I met the ladies returning without escort from a visit to some friends.The baroness greeted me kindly, but with a certain haughtiness which was entirely absent from the behaviour of her daughter, who showed frankly that she was pleased to see me."You have not paid us your promised visit yet," she said; "but perhaps you are too busy? No? Then we shall expect you to come with your brother."Stephen did not greatly appreciate the honour, but he consented to go, and we passed several very pleasant evenings with the Austrian ladies.Of Count Beula and his committee we saw nothing more--they were busy making speeches; but Rakoczy, in case of accidents, obtained from Messenhauser, the Viennese commander-in-chief, a document which gave us, as non-combatants, the right to assist the wounded.A fortnight now passed without incident, except for the arrival of Joseph Bern, the famous Polish general, who instantly set about the work of defence."A marvellous man!" said Rakoczy one evening. "Over fifty years old, yet hot-headed as a boy. You should see him in a battle with the shells bursting and the bullets coming down like hail. He's a regular salamander, and the hotter the fire the better Bern is pleased.""He certainly knows how to make the men work.""Isn't there some gipsy prophecy concerning him?" asked Stephen."Yes, and Bern believes in the truth of it. An old woman told his fortune many years ago, and prophesied he would never come to any harm till 1850. His body is covered with scars, but Bern doesn't count these. The Poles are fanatical about him, and believe he can't be killed."If the Austrians catch him," said Stephen, "they will put it to the test by means of a hempen rope.""Rather a risky experiment, for Bern," replied our companion with a humorous twinkle.That same night Prince Windischgratz arrived with a fresh army, twenty thousand strong; and, having joined his colleagues, he summoned the city to surrender.The reply was a curt refusal, and the citizens prepared for the ordeal of battle.Three more days passed quietly while the royalists placed their guns in position; then, at ten o'clock on the morning of October 28, 1848, the tocsin rang loudly, and thegénéralebeat to arms. Instantly the citizens ran to their appointed places, and it must be admitted that very few showed traces of fear or cowardice. The men in blouses, accompanied by hundreds of women and girls, guarded the barricades; the students formed up on the ramparts, where all night they had lain by the long line of watch-fires; and the Nationals, rifle in hand, marched to their stations.It was nearly noon when a signal-shot was fired from the Schwartzenberg heights, and immediately the bombardment began.Shot and shell and flaming rockets came hissing and roaring into the city; but the civilian gunners stood to their pieces, and answered shot by shot, though without doing much damage to their opponents.It was soon seen that the principal attack would be made by way of the Leopoldstadt and Landstrasse suburbs, to the former of which I hastened with my brother and Rakoczy.The Croats and Chasseurs had already reached the Prater, from the houses and woods of which they poured a hot musketry fire upon the defenders of the first barricade. Men dropped fast, and we were soon busy carrying those who were seriously wounded into places of safety, where their hurts might be attended to by the surgeons.[image]"From the woods they poured a hot musketry fire upon the defenders." Page 54.]The bullets fell thickly around us while we ran here and there with flasks of water to moisten the parched throats of the stricken men.Some, alas! were dying, and for these we could do little but cheer their last moments; others, who possessed a chance of recovery, we raised in our arms and bore tenderly away.We had just returned from one of these sad errands when Rakoczy, seeing a fallen body on the top of the barricade, immediately climbed up in order to examine it.We paused in our work to watch the handsome, bright-eyed fellow as he stood there, quite cool, the target for hundreds of rifles.The insurgents, understanding his action, cheered and cheered again as he bent over the motionless body; but his heroism was useless--the man was dead.Rising slowly, the brave Rakoczy stood for a second, glancing toward the Prater, then returned to us untouched."Dead," he said briefly; "and the Austrians are preparing for a rush."Stephen glanced at the handful of insurgents who still fought doggedly, but their time was almost come.A savage cry heralded the onslaught of the Croats, those hardy fighters from the south; and five minutes later the defenders of the barricade were in full flight, leaving behind only their wounded and dead.At first I thought of retreating also; but "The Joyous" was already giving aid to another sufferer, and the sight of his calm face brought me to my senses.So we three stayed, doing what we could; and almost immediately the enemy were upon us, leaping, shouting, tiring, and cheering like a body of savages.A wild-looking lot they were, having little uniform, save the famous red mantle which hung loosely over the shoulders, and was fastened round the throat with a small cord.For the rest, speaking generally, their costume was a dark cap carelessly placed on the side of the head, rough brown jacket almost threadbare, drawers tied in at the knees, gaiters, and clumsy-looking sandals fastened with strips of leather. Most of them wore a gay-coloured sash, and all were armed with the weapons peculiar to their country.Each man carried a stanitza or long gun, a long and ornamented pistol, a cartouch-box on his shoulder-belt, and, in a richly-embroidered sheath, a handjar, which is half yataghan and half carving-knife.You may be sure I did not see all these things as the redoubtable warriors came swarming over the barricade, but later I had ample opportunity of studying the weapons of the Ban's soldiers.After them marched a regiment of Austrian infantry, well disciplined and steady as a rock.As the Croats went by, I expected every second to be shot through the head, or to feel one of the murderous handjars in my throat; but I continued my labour, at least with outward calm. Happily, the Viennese had left the adjoining houses empty, so there was nothing to hinder the imperialists from advancing, or to further excite their passions.The Croats swept by like a furious whirlwind, the Austrians followed more steadily, and we were left to our self-imposed task.When the enemy had disappeared, dozens of women and men not engaged in the fight came from their hiding-places, and we were surrounded by a band of willing helpers.The dead we left where they had fallen, for time was precious; but the others were all removed into the houses, and made as comfortable as possible till the surgeons arrived.We had just finished our work, and were resting a while, when the booming of cannon sounded not far off."They're taking the second barricade!" I exclaimed."It will cost them dear," said Rakoczy; "Bern is there!""Let us go and see," said Stephen; "we may be of use."CHAPTER IV.VIENNA IN FLAMES.For the second time the Croats were about to hurl themselves against the barricade defended by the daring Pole. A cluster of bodies twenty yards in advance of it showed where the first rush had been stayed.The black nozzles of several guns peeped from the huge pile, and the gunners stood ready with lighted matches.Looking at Bern, I remembered Rakoczy's story, and really it appeared as if the man were bullet-proof. Others exposed themselves for a moment, and were shot down; he, holding a short riding-whip in his hand, stood with the most perfectsang-froidin the hottest of the fire, cheering, directing, encouraging, and was not hit once.Had I not seen it with my own eyes, I should have doubted a narrator who told me the story, for the thing was almost incredible even to an eye-witness.But the Croats were ready. The signal rang out; they went forward in loose formation, slowly at first, afterwards more quickly, a few dropping by the way. Then, with an appalling yell, they literally flew over the ground, brandishing their handjars.Once at close quarters, the Viennese would go down before them like ripe corn beneath the sickle.The Austrians in reserve cheered. Another minute and their allies would be swarming over the barricade, when suddenly, from the mouths of Bern's heavy guns, belched sheets of flame. There came a tremendous report; the barricade trembled; the whole scene was blotted out by a cloud of smoke, which drifted slowly away, and then the Croats were seen retiring sullenly.Of all their number, one alone had reached the goal, and he was a prisoner.The Viennese cheered like mad; Bern gave some orders to his artillerymen; the imperialists covered the retreat of their allies by a sharp musketry fire.Then both sides paused--the insurgents smilingly secure in their stronghold, their opponents to get ready for a fresh attack. With many other non-combatants, we had climbed to the roof of a house, from which we obtained a splendid view."The Austrians are going to do the work," said Stephen, who had a strong prejudice against irregular troops."It's throwing life away," answered our companion; and even I, who knew much less of military matters than he did, felt that the drilled infantry had little chance of success.However, they were forming steadily for the assault. The officers sprang to the front, holding their swords unsheathed, the drums beat the advance, and the regiment moved on with the regularity of clockwork.They made a brilliant spectacle, those hardy veterans, with heads erect, and resolute, determined faces, marching to destruction like one vast machine.Faster and faster their feet moved, faster and faster the drums beat, rataplan, rataplan, till the music got into their bodies, and with a "Vivat der Prinz!" they broke into a swift run. I looked at the Polish leader; he stood like some genius of the conflict, directing and even controlling the progress of the strife.The infantry, although advancing so swiftly, never for an instant got out of hand. As one man fell, another filled the gap; and when we last saw them before the thick smoke shut out the view, they were in even lines, shoulder to shoulder, as if on parade.Crash, crash, went the heavy guns, and the shot and shell ploughed through the solid ranks, making great gaps, as we well knew, though nothing was visible till the sulphur cloud lifted.The attack, like the two preceding it, had failed miserably. Would they try again? It really seemed like it, though in the three assaults they had been punished fearfully."They may keep on like that all the afternoon," said Rakoczy, "but they won't take the barricade. These front attacks are useless. I wonder the Ban permits them. Oh, there's the reason! See!" and he pointed toward the barricade.Everything there was in confusion. While most of the citizen fighters clung to their posts, many ran or tried to run away.In vain the Polish general exposed himself with the utmost recklessness; the position was lost.While one body of Croats, supported by the Austrian infantry, had been attacking in front, the remainder, led by Ban Jellachich, had fought their way through the suburb of Leopoldstadt, and clearing the Avenue of the Emperor Francis, had fallen upon the barricade in the rear."Forward, forward!" rang out the cry at our feet, and the whole force advanced at a run.The Austrians charged with bayonets levelled; the Croats, discarding their stanitzas, gripped their handjars, and with loud shouts hurled themselves against the position.Between these two forces the Viennese were crushed. The gunners stood bravely by their guns till they were cut down. Bern appeared to be tranquilly giving orders; half a hundred students, banding themselves into a solid body, fought doggedly; but from the moment Jellachich's troops arrived the issue was certain.A great burst of cheering rose when the black and yellow standard of the Austrians and the red, white, and blue of the Croats fluttered side by side on the summit of the barricade.The fight, in that place at least, was over; the citizens had disappeared. The imperialists embraced each other, shook one another by the hand, laughed and danced and waved their caps in the air, shouted for Jellachich and the emperor, and finally ran on to pursue their victorious career. Round the captured barricade the dead lay thick, and the wounded as usual moaned piteously for water.We went amongst them, doing the little that was possible to ease their pain, and helping to remove some into safer quarters.To add to the horror, one of the houses caught fire, and it was feared that the whole street would soon be ablaze.Farther off we could hear the booming of the heavy guns, the sharp rattle of musketry, the shouts of the combatants, the cheers and counter-cheers which told us how the battle was going.From time to time, too, people brought reports of the fight, and they all boded ill to the insurgents.The railway station of Gloggnitz, the Hôtel des Invalides, the Veterinary School, were taken one after the other by the imperialists, who, when night fell, were practically masters of the suburbs of Leopoldstadt and Landstrasse.And such a night as that twenty-eighth of October I had never beheld. The town was on fire in more than twenty different places. Half the houses of the two suburbs were riddled by shot and shell; the flames were consuming the other half.Red tongues of fire leaped into the sky, forming a grand but terrible spectacle.The homeless people stood in the streets, some hopelessly dazed and stupid, others fighting the flames as sturdily as they had fought the Austrians; while a few philosophers, who had nothing at stake, looked on calmly at the conflagration.As for us, our time was fully occupied in removing the wounded from the burning or threatened buildings. Throughout the night we toiled, and it was pleasant to see the genial Rakoczy, with his bright, cheerful face, giving water here, binding up a wound there, or helping to carry a sick man to a safer shelter.A few kind words, a cheery smile, a pressure of the hand, a look of sympathy, he distributed impartially; and men of various nationalities must have blessed the handsome Hungarian, who spent himself so freely in their service.Several times we had to face the gravest dangers. Houses were burning, walls falling; but the helpless must be rescued, and Rakoczy, never blenching himself, inspired confidence in others.Many pitiful little dramas took place in the streets, where women and children searched, often, alas! in vain, for the bodies of their loved ones.Thus the night passed, and the return of day revealed the horrors of the scene more plainly still.During the hours of darkness there had been something grand about the conflagration. The great red blotches lighting up the sky, the vivid tongues of fire leaping, as it seemed, sportively from point to point, darting here and there, now joining, now separating, throwing into bold relief some noble building which again was lost in the black smoke, bringing into view the varied uniforms of the victorious soldiery--all these things powerfully seized the imagination, crowding out the more prosaic horrors.Daylight restored the true proportion of things, and it was indeed a sorrowful sight on which we gazed.Charred and blackened walls met us at every turn; half-consumed houses, battered and ruined buildings, huge gaps in the streets where the fire-fiend had worked his will; and, worse than all, the white-faced, sad-eyed women and innocent children, bereaved alike of home and of the strong arms that had hitherto been their support.Some, wringing their hands in despair, cried aloud the names of their lost ones; the majority, dazed by grief, sought silently and with an unremitting patience that touched the hearts of the beholders.The fighting, as far as we could tell, had long since ceased, and was not renewed.A rumour spread that the chiefs had sent to ask for a suspension of hostilities while they talked over the terms of surrender, and I thought they acted very wisely."Bound to submit," said Rakoczy cheerfully, "they can't do anything else. A revolution seldom succeeds unless the army joins the people."We spent the day amongst the wounded, and at night, a capitulation having been agreed on, helped to convey some of them into the city.Then, quite worn out by thirty-six hours of continuous labour, we went to our lodgings, and after eating a little food, lay down to rest.Rakoczy, who lived in another house, joined us the next morning at breakfast, and we sat for an hour talking over our plans.Stephen was anxious to leave Vienna at the first opportunity, and as Rakoczy had finished his private business, it was arranged that we should do so."We will go and see the imperialists march in," remarked John; "afterwards it will be easy to slip away."Accordingly we went out, and found the streets filled with excited people who were shouting tumultuously, "Long live the brave Hungarians!""What's the meaning of this craze?" Stephen asked, looking at us in surprise."Something up," said Rakoczy, "and something queer too. Let us follow the crowd; we shall soon learn.""Strange there should be so few students and National Guards about," I remarked."They're on the ramparts and at the gates. They'll stay till the surrender is formally completed."Several men in blouses heard the word "surrender," and immediately shouted, "No surrender! Down with the Hapsburg butchers! Long live the brave Hungarians!"On all sides the cries were repeated, and we, more astonished than ever, ran on quickly.The Place of St. Stephen's appeared to be the rendezvous, where a wildly-excited mob had gathered round the noble cathedral. A cheer rose from the surging mass as a young man, mounting above the heads of his fellows, read out the contents of a billet sent down from the summit of the tower by Messenhauser.We were too far off to hear the exact words, but they were to the effect that the Austrians were being attacked.The thoughts of every one immediately flew to the Hungarians, and shouts of "Long live Hungary!" once more rent the air. A light cloud of annoyance spread over Rakoczy's face."That's no soldier's doing," he said. "No one but an imbecile would pit our raw recruits against an army of veterans."The Viennese thought differently; and when, two hours later, a second bulletin was issued, stating that the Hungarians were advancing, the citizens became wild with joy.The capitulation was forgotten; flags were waved, cannon discharged, and paeans of victory sung.Stephen and I talked largely of Hungarian prowess, and of what our countrymen could do; Rakoczy smiled and said nothing, which showed his wisdom.The fight had drawn nearer; the insurgents were cannonading the imperialists from the ramparts with their long-range guns; we stood in the Place of St. Stephen's, and gazed eagerly at the summit of the tower.Suddenly a great stillness fell on the crowd. By what mysterious means the knowledge of the evil news spread from the mind of one man to another I cannot say, but certain it is the cheers and flag-waving stopped before the vast majority of the crowd even knew that Messenhauser had sent down his third note.A yell of rage and disappointment greeted the reading of the message.Rakoczy's good sense had proved superior to our boasting: the Hungarians were in full retreat.The news produced a startling effect on the Viennese. Obedience to any power came to an end; the reign of disorder began.Shops were looted and private residences sacked; furniture was thrown into the streets, and the owners were assaulted; the town went mad.I thought of the Baroness von Arnstein and her pretty daughter; and Rakoczy, guessing at the cause of my gloomy face, proposed that we should go round to their house."Von Arnstein is known to be with the army," he said, "and it is just possible the worthy citizens may wreak their vengeance on his family."We found the ladies at home, and very glad they were to see us.In spite of her pride, the elder lady showed signs of fear--not so much, I think, on her own account as on her daughter's."This is terrible," she said, "and just as we hoped the mischief was at an end. Your countrymen have much to answer for, mein Herr.""Nay," replied Stephen, to whom she spoke. "The Hungarians fight against men; they do not attack women and children.""But," said the young girl, "the rebels acted very unfairly in firing on the soldiers this morning.""And unwisely, too," answered Rakoczy. "They are in a worse position now than they were before. They are bound to capitulate within a few hours.""Meanwhile," said I, blushing boyishly, "if agreeable to you, we propose to remain here till the danger is over."The baroness thanked us warmly for what she was pleased to call our chivalrous conduct, while the fräulein's eyes spoke as eloquently as her mother's lips."My servants are well armed," the elder lady continued, "and Franz is a host in himself, but we shall certainly feel more secure, knowing you are with us. Yet how strange it is that we should be relying on the services of three Hungarian gentlemen!""Really," exclaimed the fräulein with a merry laugh, "we ought rather to be afraid of you. But why do your people quarrel with us, and drive away our poor emperor?"Rakoczy drew out a locket, which hung round his neck by a fine gold chain."Do you recognize that picture?" he asked, releasing the spring."Why, it is the emperor himself.""It is also the King of Hungary, for whom thousands of Hungarians would lay down their lives."The girl knitted her brows, as if trying to solve some knotty problem."I don't understand," she said. "You fight against the emperor, yet you profess great devotion to the King of Hungary, who is the same person.""Yet it is very simple. The Magyar's first love is for his country, his second for the king. Now, as emperor, Ferdinand has taken away our rights, which we must have back. When we get them, no king will have more loyal subjects than Ferdinand.""But I understood you were all republicans," said the baroness."We are royalists, madam," replied Stephen."Who will fight for a republic. That is what Kossuth wants. We know here what the pulling of the wires will lead to. If your countrymen succeed in this war, they will become the subjects, not of King Ferdinand, but of Dictator Kossuth.""Listen!" I exclaimed. "The street is filled with people."The windows in the lower part of the house were already secured by heavy wooden shutters, and now we heard Franz barring the door at the main entrance.Rakoczy and Stephen ran to aid the servants in case of need, while I stayed with the ladies.I suggested it would be well to draw the curtains, but the baroness would not consent, so we sat looking down into the street.The people did not appear to have any wish to do harm. They passed along singing, and waving flags, and many were already out of sight when some one raised a cry of "Von Arnstein." At the sound of that name the others stopped, and quickly collecting in front of the house, began in loud tones to abuse the absent noble.The baroness gave an expressive little shrug of the shoulders."What poltroons!" she exclaimed contemptuously. "If my husband were here they would run like a flock of frightened sheep."With this remark I could scarcely agree; nevertheless I had sufficient wisdom to keep my doubts to myself.I looked at the fräulein. Her face was pale, but she was perfectly cool and collected; as she said afterwards, a soldier's daughter must learn to face danger."It's only a street brawl," I said. "They will get tired soon and go away."But it is always difficult to reckon on what a mob will do, and this was a case in point.The words had hardly left my lips, when a man, wearied perhaps of shouting, varied his pastime by aiming a stroke at the door with a heavy hatchet.The effect of that one blow was to change the character of the crowd entirely.Hitherto it had been one of merely disorderly citizens, lawless and unruly, no doubt, but not bent on any definite mischief. The ringing of the axe against the door acted as a signal for the loosing of a flood of evil passions.Every one struggled to get in a good blow, and instead of the harmless though bitter language of a few minutes previously, we heard the more alarming cry of, "Death to the aristocrats! Death to Von Arnstein!"The baroness moved nearer to the window, and I placed myself in front of her, saying,--"This is madness, madam!"She asked me with haughty courtesy to stand aside, and I, fearful of the risk she was running, appealed to her daughter. Her answer was to place herself by her mother, who opened the window.The battering at the door and windows stopped while the crowd looked up curiously.In a clear, hard, but passionless voice the baroness said,--"I am Von Arnstein's wife; this is his daughter. My servants are armed, my house is defended by friends. If you enter, it will be at your peril."For answer, some one on the outskirts of the crowd fired a shot, which lodged in the window-frame, and I drew the ladies back."Foolhardiness is not bravery," I said brusquely, and shut the window.Then the attack on the door recommenced, and we heard quite distinctly the thud, thud of the heavy weapons.I went to the head of the stairs and looked down.Franz stood by the door with his ponderous club in his hand; I pitied the man who should be first to enter.The other servants were on the stairs, and by their looks I judged they would be of scanty service to their mistress.My brother and Rakoczy, sword in one hand, pistol in the other, stood near Franz."The Joyous" caught sight of me, and laughed."A new way of entertaining guests," he said. "The Baroness von Arnstein will become famous for her receptions!""The door yields!" exclaimed Franz gravely. "See to the ladies, mein Herr;" and he took a firmer grip of his club.I nodded and went back, though I would rather have remained; shortly afterwards a yell of delight from the crowd proclaimed that the door had fallen.The baroness looked at her daughter, who smiled back in answer; neither appeared the least moved.The fighting on the stairs had lasted ten seconds perhaps, when the servants came rushing into the room in a body. Their faces were white; their hands shook so that the pistols they carried pointed to twenty different places at once, and I thought it extremely likely that the rioters would be spared the trouble of killing us."Put those things down, you scoundrels!" I cried, feeling certain they would be more dangerous to us than to the enemy; and when it was done, I added, "Now, back to the staircase and fight for your mistress, or I will kill every man of you!""What cowards!" exclaimed the baroness scornfully. "They will do no good.""They may form shields for braver men," said her daughter.Meanwhile, the sounds of the fighting grew more acute, and, knowing how far outnumbered my companions were, I felt compelled to run to their aid.The servants whom I had driven out were huddled together at the top of the stairs, doing nothing; but, half-way down, Stephen and his two companions were still making a great fight.Uttering a cry of encouragement, I ran down, and, discharging my pistol into the thick of the crowd, drew my sword.My brother had received a slight cut across the head; Rakoczy, as yet untouched, was smiling cheerfully, and by his marvellous skill of sword keeping back the most dangerous of the assailants.Franz's right arm was hanging by his side useless; but he swung his club with the left, and smiled grimly when a man dropped.The situation, however, grew desperate. Force of numbers compelled us to yield several steps; Stephen had again been hit, and Rakoczy was bleeding from a wound in the arm.I would like to record how, in this last extremity, we alone, by the aid of our good swords, cleared the house of the rioters; but that would not be true, as we owed our safety to quite other means.In the next chapter I will relate exactly what happened.
CHAPTER III.
THE INSURRECTION IN FULL SWING.
For some time the flames from the burning building leaped high into the heavens, and, spreading out, lit an immense area by their glow; but gradually the vivid red grew paler, and we concluded that the insurgents, having captured the arsenal, were now trying to extinguish the fire.
A nearer view, however, made it plain that our informant had brought false news, as the garrison still maintained a fierce fight against the students and the National Guards. The scene was more striking even than that at the hôtel of the minister of war. The darkness of the night was illumined by the flames which continually burst forth from one part of the arsenal, while the flashes from hundreds of rifles showed that the roofs and windows of the adjoining houses were occupied by the insurgents.
"Not much chance for the garrison," I said. "All these houses command the arsenal."
Still the unequal contest continued; the soldiers stuck to their posts, and while some threw water on the flames, the others returned the fire of the rioters.
The sharp-shooters on the roofs and at the windows suffered little, but their allies in the street, being more exposed, by no means escaped lightly.
All through the night the struggle lasted, but between five and six o'clock in the morning it became plain to every one that the powder-magazine was in imminent danger of being blown up.
Then the brave garrison agreed to an honourable capitulation; and as they marched out, the people, with savage cries of triumph, flung themselves into the building.
The students and many of the National Guards did their utmost to save the magazine; of the others, some sought for weapons, while the remainder appeared bent solely upon destruction.
After a tremendous amount of work, the fire was got under, but really I expected to see it break out again in a dozen different places.
The more foolish of the rioters played the strangest antics, and having obtained both rifles and ammunition, found pleasure in firing them at anybody or anything.
All the treasures were brought into the streets, and the swords of the great Scanderbeg and Prince Eugene became the property of men of the lowest classes.
We saw, without being able to prevent it, the helmet of that Francis the First who was taken prisoner at the battle of Pavia, tossed from one to the other of the ignorant mob, and watched the destruction of the armour once worn by the mighty Wallenstein and the faithful Daun.
We could not find Rakoczy; so, after searching a long while, we decided on returning to our lodging.
The streets were less crowded now than they had been during the last twenty-four hours. Numbers of people, tired by the fighting and excitement, had gone to rest; others, shocked by the excesses committed, had withdrawn; and indeed the broadening daylight made every one look more or less ashamed of the night's events.
From the talk of the rioters we learned that the emperor had left Schönbrunn with his family for Olmutz, and that Count Auersperg had sent four thousand troops to form an escort. The rest of the army had been stationed in the gardens of the Schwartzenberg and Belvidere palaces on heights commanding the city.
But for the order to cease firing, these same soldiers would most likely have nipped the insurrection in the bud.
Still we did not meet Rakoczy; but a scrap of paper pushed beneath the door of our room relieved our anxiety concerning him.
"8 a.m.--Call again later. Don't leave before seeing me.--J.R."
"Now we can go to bed with easy minds," I said, passing the paper to Stephen.
We were both exceedingly tired, and having once fallen asleep, knew nothing further till awakened by a loud knocking.
"Rakoczy," murmured Stephen lazily. "Let him in, George. There's no more rest for us."
"The Joyous" now began to troll forth a Magyar hunting-song, and the sound of the rich, full notes put all sleep to flight. Dressing hastily, I went into the sitting-room and opened the door.
Street fighting and loss of sleep appeared to have little effect on our companion. His handsome face was bright and cheerful as usual, and bidding me finish my toilet, he continued his song.
"So the insurgents carried out their threat?" I said, when, some time later, the three of us sat down to dinner.
Rakoczy nodded.
"Heard the news at the arsenal?" he asked. "What a rush it was! The crowd swept me away like a chip in the Danube. And as to getting back; there wasn't the slightest chance."
"We were separated too," said Stephen, "but met again in front of the hôtel. George had quite an adventure. Rescued a royalist maiden from the mob; quite like a hero of romance."
"A charming girl--the daughter of Baron von Arnstein. But Stephen has left out his share of the business;" and I straightway related all that had happened.
"Fortunate youngsters," said Rakoczy. "And a plucky girl. We shall soon be looking for an Austro-Hungarian alliance. I have some news, too, though not as pleasant as yours. Count Beula is in the city."
"What of that?" asked Stephen coldly.
"A great deal. He is the head of the Hungarian Committee formed to aid the Viennese in their insurrection."
"The work ought to suit him," I said carelessly.
"So it will till the Austrians recapture the town; then he'll change sides fast enough."
"Very likely," said Rakoczy. "But that isn't the point. At present the rebels are victorious, and Count Beula is a man of importance."
"Well, it has nothing to do with us," observed Stephen rather crossly.
"Wrong again, my boy. By virtue of his office, he orders you to appear before the committee this very evening;" and the speaker took a printed paper from his pocket.
Stephen tore the document in halves, and threw the pieces on the floor.
"I won't go!" he exclaimed haughtily.
"Yes, you will."
My brother sprang to his feet. His face was crimson, and he angrily demanded what Rakoczy meant.
"Don't lose your temper. The explanation's simple. Unless you attend, the committee will brand you either coward or traitor."
"Rakoczy is right, Stephen. My advice is to go and hear what the count has to say."
Stephen examined his pistols and reached down his sword.
"Very well," he answered grimly; "but I'm afraid the meeting won't be any the pleasanter for my company. When do we start?"
"The Joyous" laughed genially.
"Not for a couple of hours yet; but if you're tired of the house we can take a stroll through the town."
Stephen and I considered this a good suggestion, so, having locked the door, we went out on a tour of inspection.
By this time there was no mistaking the fact that the city proper was completely in the hands of the insurgents. The tricolour floated over the principal buildings; the National Guards patrolled the streets, and directed the operations of the people who worked feverishly at the strengthening of the barricades; the gates were guarded by armed students enrolled as soldiers. Of the imperial government not a trace seemed to be left.
Turning back from the Scotch Gate, Rakoczy led us through several streets, and finally stopped before a house which, outwardly at least, differed in no wise from its neighbours.
Our guide, speaking a word to the doorkeeper, led the way into an ordinary passage, at the farther end of which a second janitor directed us to a large room.
Several men had already assembled, and others came afterwards, bringing up the number to perhaps twenty.
They sat in rows facing a raised desk, and we, being of modest dispositions, took our seats right at the back.
"How long before the mummery begins?" asked Stephen.
"Don't know. Never was here before. Expect they're waiting for the count. Choice company some of these gentlemen, eh?"
"Half of them, at least, are not Hungarians," I said.
"Friends of Hungary, my boy. A few Magyars like Beula, half a dozen Poles, several Italians from the Austrian provinces, a German or two from Munich, and a red republican from Paris. Here comes the count;" and a hum of applause greeted the president as he took his place at the desk.
He was a man about Rakoczy's age, a true Magyar in appearance, richly dressed, and exhibiting an air of easy self-assurance which suited him well.
As soon as the applause subsided, he rose and began in German to congratulate his associates on the triumph of the revolution. The emperor, he said, was a fugitive, the empire destroyed; henceforth the Austrians were a free people, and the brave Hungarians would hold out to them the right hand of brotherhood.
This statement produced frantic cheering, and the president had some difficulty in restoring quiet.
Much yet remained to be done, he continued; but before opening the regular business he had a pleasing duty to perform, to welcome to that meeting, in the name of the committee, three Hungarians, the possessors of glorious names--names that would endure while Hungary remained a nation.
This harangue had exhausted Stephen's patience, and when the speaker went on to glorify the actions of bygone Rakoczys and Botskays, he sprang to his feet.
"Now for a thunder-clap!" exclaimed my companion.
Unlike the president, Stephen spoke in the Hungarian tongue, which prevented the majority of his hearers from understanding a word he said.
The others, however, did not miss a syllable, as their angry faces showed, and the hand of more than one man played ominously with his weapons. But Stephen, in his passion, heeded nothing.
"I am a Hungarian, but not an assassin!" he cried boldly. "We will fight the Austrians on the field of battle as long as any of you; but we won't help to slaughter defenceless old men, nor butcher brave soldiers on the altar of God. Magyars, I am ashamed of you! Has the ancient spirit descended so low as to find cause for satisfaction in a brutal murder? Let the Viennese fight out their own quarrel; Hungary is strong enough to stand alone."
"My brother is right!" I cried, before the men could recover from their astonishment. "Only last evening I stood by the side of Count Latour when he was hacked to death by brutal savages who shouted, 'Long live Hungary!' Have we not been shamed enough by the riff-raff of our own people in Pesth? In the olden days we met our foes in the open. If we have not the courage to do so now, let us be quiet, and not try to screen ourselves behind a petty squabble in the Austrian capital."
"I," said Rakoczy, in his musical voice, "am a Magyar of the Magyars. I fight against Ferdinand the emperor, who takes from us our privileges; but Ferdinand the king is the lawful ruler of Hungary, and when he restores our rights I shall hold that man a traitor who raises his voice against him."
"Well spoken!" cried Stephen.--"And now, Count Beula, President of the Committee and slaughterer of old men, you know what at least three Hungarians think."
Before he had finished speaking, a dozen men placed themselves between us and the door to bar our passage.
"Are we to be your next victims?" asked Stephen scornfully. "Well, every man to his trade."
Rakoczy had levelled his pistols, and I followed his example, though nearly a score against three made long odds. Fortunately the threatened struggle was prevented by Count Beula, who ordered his men to let us go.
"They will not escape their punishment," he said. "The nation shall judge them."
"As it shall judge you," I answered.
"Come," said Rakoczy, taking my arm; "let us leave before your brother starts on the war-path again."
"The next thing," I remarked, when we were again in the street, "is to get away from Vienna. It seems to me that we are in an awkward fix. The imperialists will probably kill us because we are Hungarians, and the insurgents because we are not."
"We can go to-morrow, unless the count has given orders to arrest us at the gates."
"Perhaps it will be better," exclaimed Stephen. "I am tired of Vienna."
"I hope the fräulein will not be hurt in the scuffle."
"Why not stay behind to protect her?" said Rakoczy in his laughing way, little dreaming that we should all three be compelled to remain.
Yet that is what happened, as the next morning the gates were zealously guarded, and we tried in vain to pass. It was rumoured that Jellachich, the Ban of Croatia, had arrived within a few hours' march of the town, and the insurgents were taking extraordinary precautions.
Guns were placed above the gates, and men stood near with lighted matches; National Guards patrolled everywhere; ten thousand men--students, Nationals, men in blouses, and coatless artisans with upturned shirt-sleeves--lined the ramparts; crowds thronged the steeples, gazing earnestly for the first signs of the savage Croats.
We spent the day in ineffectual efforts to leave the capital, and on trying again the next morning found we had lost the last chance.
Jellachich was actually in sight, and from the roofs of the lofty buildings we could see the varied uniforms of his motley army.
The red caps of the Illyrians, the grey blouses of the Seregranes, and the scarlet mantles of the Croats, formed a portion of the picture, while in the background could be distinguished the imperial uniform of the Austrian cavalry and artillery.
"No running away now," I said. "We must stay and see the end of it."
Rakoczy laughed. His main regret was that we had no part in the approaching conflict.
"If the Viennese really hold out," Stephen said, "there will be plenty to be done in caring for the wounded, and we will help in that."
For the next three or four days the city was in a state of suppressed excitement. Of course the air was thick with rumours, mostly ridiculous, but eagerly believed by the credulous burghers. Meanwhile only one thing was certain--that Jellachich, changing his position, had joined Count Auersperg in the Belvidere Gardens.
"They'll wait for Prince Windischgratz, who can bring twenty thousand men from Bohemia," said Rakoczy, "and then good-bye to the insurrection."
Since the terrible evening when Latour lost his life, the insurgents had refrained from violence; and although many robberies were committed, the disorder was far less than we had expected.
Every day I walked past the residence of the Baroness von Arnstein, but all was quiet there, and once I met the ladies returning without escort from a visit to some friends.
The baroness greeted me kindly, but with a certain haughtiness which was entirely absent from the behaviour of her daughter, who showed frankly that she was pleased to see me.
"You have not paid us your promised visit yet," she said; "but perhaps you are too busy? No? Then we shall expect you to come with your brother."
Stephen did not greatly appreciate the honour, but he consented to go, and we passed several very pleasant evenings with the Austrian ladies.
Of Count Beula and his committee we saw nothing more--they were busy making speeches; but Rakoczy, in case of accidents, obtained from Messenhauser, the Viennese commander-in-chief, a document which gave us, as non-combatants, the right to assist the wounded.
A fortnight now passed without incident, except for the arrival of Joseph Bern, the famous Polish general, who instantly set about the work of defence.
"A marvellous man!" said Rakoczy one evening. "Over fifty years old, yet hot-headed as a boy. You should see him in a battle with the shells bursting and the bullets coming down like hail. He's a regular salamander, and the hotter the fire the better Bern is pleased."
"He certainly knows how to make the men work."
"Isn't there some gipsy prophecy concerning him?" asked Stephen.
"Yes, and Bern believes in the truth of it. An old woman told his fortune many years ago, and prophesied he would never come to any harm till 1850. His body is covered with scars, but Bern doesn't count these. The Poles are fanatical about him, and believe he can't be killed.
"If the Austrians catch him," said Stephen, "they will put it to the test by means of a hempen rope."
"Rather a risky experiment, for Bern," replied our companion with a humorous twinkle.
That same night Prince Windischgratz arrived with a fresh army, twenty thousand strong; and, having joined his colleagues, he summoned the city to surrender.
The reply was a curt refusal, and the citizens prepared for the ordeal of battle.
Three more days passed quietly while the royalists placed their guns in position; then, at ten o'clock on the morning of October 28, 1848, the tocsin rang loudly, and thegénéralebeat to arms. Instantly the citizens ran to their appointed places, and it must be admitted that very few showed traces of fear or cowardice. The men in blouses, accompanied by hundreds of women and girls, guarded the barricades; the students formed up on the ramparts, where all night they had lain by the long line of watch-fires; and the Nationals, rifle in hand, marched to their stations.
It was nearly noon when a signal-shot was fired from the Schwartzenberg heights, and immediately the bombardment began.
Shot and shell and flaming rockets came hissing and roaring into the city; but the civilian gunners stood to their pieces, and answered shot by shot, though without doing much damage to their opponents.
It was soon seen that the principal attack would be made by way of the Leopoldstadt and Landstrasse suburbs, to the former of which I hastened with my brother and Rakoczy.
The Croats and Chasseurs had already reached the Prater, from the houses and woods of which they poured a hot musketry fire upon the defenders of the first barricade. Men dropped fast, and we were soon busy carrying those who were seriously wounded into places of safety, where their hurts might be attended to by the surgeons.
[image]"From the woods they poured a hot musketry fire upon the defenders." Page 54.]
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"From the woods they poured a hot musketry fire upon the defenders." Page 54.]
The bullets fell thickly around us while we ran here and there with flasks of water to moisten the parched throats of the stricken men.
Some, alas! were dying, and for these we could do little but cheer their last moments; others, who possessed a chance of recovery, we raised in our arms and bore tenderly away.
We had just returned from one of these sad errands when Rakoczy, seeing a fallen body on the top of the barricade, immediately climbed up in order to examine it.
We paused in our work to watch the handsome, bright-eyed fellow as he stood there, quite cool, the target for hundreds of rifles.
The insurgents, understanding his action, cheered and cheered again as he bent over the motionless body; but his heroism was useless--the man was dead.
Rising slowly, the brave Rakoczy stood for a second, glancing toward the Prater, then returned to us untouched.
"Dead," he said briefly; "and the Austrians are preparing for a rush."
Stephen glanced at the handful of insurgents who still fought doggedly, but their time was almost come.
A savage cry heralded the onslaught of the Croats, those hardy fighters from the south; and five minutes later the defenders of the barricade were in full flight, leaving behind only their wounded and dead.
At first I thought of retreating also; but "The Joyous" was already giving aid to another sufferer, and the sight of his calm face brought me to my senses.
So we three stayed, doing what we could; and almost immediately the enemy were upon us, leaping, shouting, tiring, and cheering like a body of savages.
A wild-looking lot they were, having little uniform, save the famous red mantle which hung loosely over the shoulders, and was fastened round the throat with a small cord.
For the rest, speaking generally, their costume was a dark cap carelessly placed on the side of the head, rough brown jacket almost threadbare, drawers tied in at the knees, gaiters, and clumsy-looking sandals fastened with strips of leather. Most of them wore a gay-coloured sash, and all were armed with the weapons peculiar to their country.
Each man carried a stanitza or long gun, a long and ornamented pistol, a cartouch-box on his shoulder-belt, and, in a richly-embroidered sheath, a handjar, which is half yataghan and half carving-knife.
You may be sure I did not see all these things as the redoubtable warriors came swarming over the barricade, but later I had ample opportunity of studying the weapons of the Ban's soldiers.
After them marched a regiment of Austrian infantry, well disciplined and steady as a rock.
As the Croats went by, I expected every second to be shot through the head, or to feel one of the murderous handjars in my throat; but I continued my labour, at least with outward calm. Happily, the Viennese had left the adjoining houses empty, so there was nothing to hinder the imperialists from advancing, or to further excite their passions.
The Croats swept by like a furious whirlwind, the Austrians followed more steadily, and we were left to our self-imposed task.
When the enemy had disappeared, dozens of women and men not engaged in the fight came from their hiding-places, and we were surrounded by a band of willing helpers.
The dead we left where they had fallen, for time was precious; but the others were all removed into the houses, and made as comfortable as possible till the surgeons arrived.
We had just finished our work, and were resting a while, when the booming of cannon sounded not far off.
"They're taking the second barricade!" I exclaimed.
"It will cost them dear," said Rakoczy; "Bern is there!"
"Let us go and see," said Stephen; "we may be of use."
CHAPTER IV.
VIENNA IN FLAMES.
For the second time the Croats were about to hurl themselves against the barricade defended by the daring Pole. A cluster of bodies twenty yards in advance of it showed where the first rush had been stayed.
The black nozzles of several guns peeped from the huge pile, and the gunners stood ready with lighted matches.
Looking at Bern, I remembered Rakoczy's story, and really it appeared as if the man were bullet-proof. Others exposed themselves for a moment, and were shot down; he, holding a short riding-whip in his hand, stood with the most perfectsang-froidin the hottest of the fire, cheering, directing, encouraging, and was not hit once.
Had I not seen it with my own eyes, I should have doubted a narrator who told me the story, for the thing was almost incredible even to an eye-witness.
But the Croats were ready. The signal rang out; they went forward in loose formation, slowly at first, afterwards more quickly, a few dropping by the way. Then, with an appalling yell, they literally flew over the ground, brandishing their handjars.
Once at close quarters, the Viennese would go down before them like ripe corn beneath the sickle.
The Austrians in reserve cheered. Another minute and their allies would be swarming over the barricade, when suddenly, from the mouths of Bern's heavy guns, belched sheets of flame. There came a tremendous report; the barricade trembled; the whole scene was blotted out by a cloud of smoke, which drifted slowly away, and then the Croats were seen retiring sullenly.
Of all their number, one alone had reached the goal, and he was a prisoner.
The Viennese cheered like mad; Bern gave some orders to his artillerymen; the imperialists covered the retreat of their allies by a sharp musketry fire.
Then both sides paused--the insurgents smilingly secure in their stronghold, their opponents to get ready for a fresh attack. With many other non-combatants, we had climbed to the roof of a house, from which we obtained a splendid view.
"The Austrians are going to do the work," said Stephen, who had a strong prejudice against irregular troops.
"It's throwing life away," answered our companion; and even I, who knew much less of military matters than he did, felt that the drilled infantry had little chance of success.
However, they were forming steadily for the assault. The officers sprang to the front, holding their swords unsheathed, the drums beat the advance, and the regiment moved on with the regularity of clockwork.
They made a brilliant spectacle, those hardy veterans, with heads erect, and resolute, determined faces, marching to destruction like one vast machine.
Faster and faster their feet moved, faster and faster the drums beat, rataplan, rataplan, till the music got into their bodies, and with a "Vivat der Prinz!" they broke into a swift run. I looked at the Polish leader; he stood like some genius of the conflict, directing and even controlling the progress of the strife.
The infantry, although advancing so swiftly, never for an instant got out of hand. As one man fell, another filled the gap; and when we last saw them before the thick smoke shut out the view, they were in even lines, shoulder to shoulder, as if on parade.
Crash, crash, went the heavy guns, and the shot and shell ploughed through the solid ranks, making great gaps, as we well knew, though nothing was visible till the sulphur cloud lifted.
The attack, like the two preceding it, had failed miserably. Would they try again? It really seemed like it, though in the three assaults they had been punished fearfully.
"They may keep on like that all the afternoon," said Rakoczy, "but they won't take the barricade. These front attacks are useless. I wonder the Ban permits them. Oh, there's the reason! See!" and he pointed toward the barricade.
Everything there was in confusion. While most of the citizen fighters clung to their posts, many ran or tried to run away.
In vain the Polish general exposed himself with the utmost recklessness; the position was lost.
While one body of Croats, supported by the Austrian infantry, had been attacking in front, the remainder, led by Ban Jellachich, had fought their way through the suburb of Leopoldstadt, and clearing the Avenue of the Emperor Francis, had fallen upon the barricade in the rear.
"Forward, forward!" rang out the cry at our feet, and the whole force advanced at a run.
The Austrians charged with bayonets levelled; the Croats, discarding their stanitzas, gripped their handjars, and with loud shouts hurled themselves against the position.
Between these two forces the Viennese were crushed. The gunners stood bravely by their guns till they were cut down. Bern appeared to be tranquilly giving orders; half a hundred students, banding themselves into a solid body, fought doggedly; but from the moment Jellachich's troops arrived the issue was certain.
A great burst of cheering rose when the black and yellow standard of the Austrians and the red, white, and blue of the Croats fluttered side by side on the summit of the barricade.
The fight, in that place at least, was over; the citizens had disappeared. The imperialists embraced each other, shook one another by the hand, laughed and danced and waved their caps in the air, shouted for Jellachich and the emperor, and finally ran on to pursue their victorious career. Round the captured barricade the dead lay thick, and the wounded as usual moaned piteously for water.
We went amongst them, doing the little that was possible to ease their pain, and helping to remove some into safer quarters.
To add to the horror, one of the houses caught fire, and it was feared that the whole street would soon be ablaze.
Farther off we could hear the booming of the heavy guns, the sharp rattle of musketry, the shouts of the combatants, the cheers and counter-cheers which told us how the battle was going.
From time to time, too, people brought reports of the fight, and they all boded ill to the insurgents.
The railway station of Gloggnitz, the Hôtel des Invalides, the Veterinary School, were taken one after the other by the imperialists, who, when night fell, were practically masters of the suburbs of Leopoldstadt and Landstrasse.
And such a night as that twenty-eighth of October I had never beheld. The town was on fire in more than twenty different places. Half the houses of the two suburbs were riddled by shot and shell; the flames were consuming the other half.
Red tongues of fire leaped into the sky, forming a grand but terrible spectacle.
The homeless people stood in the streets, some hopelessly dazed and stupid, others fighting the flames as sturdily as they had fought the Austrians; while a few philosophers, who had nothing at stake, looked on calmly at the conflagration.
As for us, our time was fully occupied in removing the wounded from the burning or threatened buildings. Throughout the night we toiled, and it was pleasant to see the genial Rakoczy, with his bright, cheerful face, giving water here, binding up a wound there, or helping to carry a sick man to a safer shelter.
A few kind words, a cheery smile, a pressure of the hand, a look of sympathy, he distributed impartially; and men of various nationalities must have blessed the handsome Hungarian, who spent himself so freely in their service.
Several times we had to face the gravest dangers. Houses were burning, walls falling; but the helpless must be rescued, and Rakoczy, never blenching himself, inspired confidence in others.
Many pitiful little dramas took place in the streets, where women and children searched, often, alas! in vain, for the bodies of their loved ones.
Thus the night passed, and the return of day revealed the horrors of the scene more plainly still.
During the hours of darkness there had been something grand about the conflagration. The great red blotches lighting up the sky, the vivid tongues of fire leaping, as it seemed, sportively from point to point, darting here and there, now joining, now separating, throwing into bold relief some noble building which again was lost in the black smoke, bringing into view the varied uniforms of the victorious soldiery--all these things powerfully seized the imagination, crowding out the more prosaic horrors.
Daylight restored the true proportion of things, and it was indeed a sorrowful sight on which we gazed.
Charred and blackened walls met us at every turn; half-consumed houses, battered and ruined buildings, huge gaps in the streets where the fire-fiend had worked his will; and, worse than all, the white-faced, sad-eyed women and innocent children, bereaved alike of home and of the strong arms that had hitherto been their support.
Some, wringing their hands in despair, cried aloud the names of their lost ones; the majority, dazed by grief, sought silently and with an unremitting patience that touched the hearts of the beholders.
The fighting, as far as we could tell, had long since ceased, and was not renewed.
A rumour spread that the chiefs had sent to ask for a suspension of hostilities while they talked over the terms of surrender, and I thought they acted very wisely.
"Bound to submit," said Rakoczy cheerfully, "they can't do anything else. A revolution seldom succeeds unless the army joins the people."
We spent the day amongst the wounded, and at night, a capitulation having been agreed on, helped to convey some of them into the city.
Then, quite worn out by thirty-six hours of continuous labour, we went to our lodgings, and after eating a little food, lay down to rest.
Rakoczy, who lived in another house, joined us the next morning at breakfast, and we sat for an hour talking over our plans.
Stephen was anxious to leave Vienna at the first opportunity, and as Rakoczy had finished his private business, it was arranged that we should do so.
"We will go and see the imperialists march in," remarked John; "afterwards it will be easy to slip away."
Accordingly we went out, and found the streets filled with excited people who were shouting tumultuously, "Long live the brave Hungarians!"
"What's the meaning of this craze?" Stephen asked, looking at us in surprise.
"Something up," said Rakoczy, "and something queer too. Let us follow the crowd; we shall soon learn."
"Strange there should be so few students and National Guards about," I remarked.
"They're on the ramparts and at the gates. They'll stay till the surrender is formally completed."
Several men in blouses heard the word "surrender," and immediately shouted, "No surrender! Down with the Hapsburg butchers! Long live the brave Hungarians!"
On all sides the cries were repeated, and we, more astonished than ever, ran on quickly.
The Place of St. Stephen's appeared to be the rendezvous, where a wildly-excited mob had gathered round the noble cathedral. A cheer rose from the surging mass as a young man, mounting above the heads of his fellows, read out the contents of a billet sent down from the summit of the tower by Messenhauser.
We were too far off to hear the exact words, but they were to the effect that the Austrians were being attacked.
The thoughts of every one immediately flew to the Hungarians, and shouts of "Long live Hungary!" once more rent the air. A light cloud of annoyance spread over Rakoczy's face.
"That's no soldier's doing," he said. "No one but an imbecile would pit our raw recruits against an army of veterans."
The Viennese thought differently; and when, two hours later, a second bulletin was issued, stating that the Hungarians were advancing, the citizens became wild with joy.
The capitulation was forgotten; flags were waved, cannon discharged, and paeans of victory sung.
Stephen and I talked largely of Hungarian prowess, and of what our countrymen could do; Rakoczy smiled and said nothing, which showed his wisdom.
The fight had drawn nearer; the insurgents were cannonading the imperialists from the ramparts with their long-range guns; we stood in the Place of St. Stephen's, and gazed eagerly at the summit of the tower.
Suddenly a great stillness fell on the crowd. By what mysterious means the knowledge of the evil news spread from the mind of one man to another I cannot say, but certain it is the cheers and flag-waving stopped before the vast majority of the crowd even knew that Messenhauser had sent down his third note.
A yell of rage and disappointment greeted the reading of the message.
Rakoczy's good sense had proved superior to our boasting: the Hungarians were in full retreat.
The news produced a startling effect on the Viennese. Obedience to any power came to an end; the reign of disorder began.
Shops were looted and private residences sacked; furniture was thrown into the streets, and the owners were assaulted; the town went mad.
I thought of the Baroness von Arnstein and her pretty daughter; and Rakoczy, guessing at the cause of my gloomy face, proposed that we should go round to their house.
"Von Arnstein is known to be with the army," he said, "and it is just possible the worthy citizens may wreak their vengeance on his family."
We found the ladies at home, and very glad they were to see us.
In spite of her pride, the elder lady showed signs of fear--not so much, I think, on her own account as on her daughter's.
"This is terrible," she said, "and just as we hoped the mischief was at an end. Your countrymen have much to answer for, mein Herr."
"Nay," replied Stephen, to whom she spoke. "The Hungarians fight against men; they do not attack women and children."
"But," said the young girl, "the rebels acted very unfairly in firing on the soldiers this morning."
"And unwisely, too," answered Rakoczy. "They are in a worse position now than they were before. They are bound to capitulate within a few hours."
"Meanwhile," said I, blushing boyishly, "if agreeable to you, we propose to remain here till the danger is over."
The baroness thanked us warmly for what she was pleased to call our chivalrous conduct, while the fräulein's eyes spoke as eloquently as her mother's lips.
"My servants are well armed," the elder lady continued, "and Franz is a host in himself, but we shall certainly feel more secure, knowing you are with us. Yet how strange it is that we should be relying on the services of three Hungarian gentlemen!"
"Really," exclaimed the fräulein with a merry laugh, "we ought rather to be afraid of you. But why do your people quarrel with us, and drive away our poor emperor?"
Rakoczy drew out a locket, which hung round his neck by a fine gold chain.
"Do you recognize that picture?" he asked, releasing the spring.
"Why, it is the emperor himself."
"It is also the King of Hungary, for whom thousands of Hungarians would lay down their lives."
The girl knitted her brows, as if trying to solve some knotty problem.
"I don't understand," she said. "You fight against the emperor, yet you profess great devotion to the King of Hungary, who is the same person."
"Yet it is very simple. The Magyar's first love is for his country, his second for the king. Now, as emperor, Ferdinand has taken away our rights, which we must have back. When we get them, no king will have more loyal subjects than Ferdinand."
"But I understood you were all republicans," said the baroness.
"We are royalists, madam," replied Stephen.
"Who will fight for a republic. That is what Kossuth wants. We know here what the pulling of the wires will lead to. If your countrymen succeed in this war, they will become the subjects, not of King Ferdinand, but of Dictator Kossuth."
"Listen!" I exclaimed. "The street is filled with people."
The windows in the lower part of the house were already secured by heavy wooden shutters, and now we heard Franz barring the door at the main entrance.
Rakoczy and Stephen ran to aid the servants in case of need, while I stayed with the ladies.
I suggested it would be well to draw the curtains, but the baroness would not consent, so we sat looking down into the street.
The people did not appear to have any wish to do harm. They passed along singing, and waving flags, and many were already out of sight when some one raised a cry of "Von Arnstein." At the sound of that name the others stopped, and quickly collecting in front of the house, began in loud tones to abuse the absent noble.
The baroness gave an expressive little shrug of the shoulders.
"What poltroons!" she exclaimed contemptuously. "If my husband were here they would run like a flock of frightened sheep."
With this remark I could scarcely agree; nevertheless I had sufficient wisdom to keep my doubts to myself.
I looked at the fräulein. Her face was pale, but she was perfectly cool and collected; as she said afterwards, a soldier's daughter must learn to face danger.
"It's only a street brawl," I said. "They will get tired soon and go away."
But it is always difficult to reckon on what a mob will do, and this was a case in point.
The words had hardly left my lips, when a man, wearied perhaps of shouting, varied his pastime by aiming a stroke at the door with a heavy hatchet.
The effect of that one blow was to change the character of the crowd entirely.
Hitherto it had been one of merely disorderly citizens, lawless and unruly, no doubt, but not bent on any definite mischief. The ringing of the axe against the door acted as a signal for the loosing of a flood of evil passions.
Every one struggled to get in a good blow, and instead of the harmless though bitter language of a few minutes previously, we heard the more alarming cry of, "Death to the aristocrats! Death to Von Arnstein!"
The baroness moved nearer to the window, and I placed myself in front of her, saying,--
"This is madness, madam!"
She asked me with haughty courtesy to stand aside, and I, fearful of the risk she was running, appealed to her daughter. Her answer was to place herself by her mother, who opened the window.
The battering at the door and windows stopped while the crowd looked up curiously.
In a clear, hard, but passionless voice the baroness said,--
"I am Von Arnstein's wife; this is his daughter. My servants are armed, my house is defended by friends. If you enter, it will be at your peril."
For answer, some one on the outskirts of the crowd fired a shot, which lodged in the window-frame, and I drew the ladies back.
"Foolhardiness is not bravery," I said brusquely, and shut the window.
Then the attack on the door recommenced, and we heard quite distinctly the thud, thud of the heavy weapons.
I went to the head of the stairs and looked down.
Franz stood by the door with his ponderous club in his hand; I pitied the man who should be first to enter.
The other servants were on the stairs, and by their looks I judged they would be of scanty service to their mistress.
My brother and Rakoczy, sword in one hand, pistol in the other, stood near Franz.
"The Joyous" caught sight of me, and laughed.
"A new way of entertaining guests," he said. "The Baroness von Arnstein will become famous for her receptions!"
"The door yields!" exclaimed Franz gravely. "See to the ladies, mein Herr;" and he took a firmer grip of his club.
I nodded and went back, though I would rather have remained; shortly afterwards a yell of delight from the crowd proclaimed that the door had fallen.
The baroness looked at her daughter, who smiled back in answer; neither appeared the least moved.
The fighting on the stairs had lasted ten seconds perhaps, when the servants came rushing into the room in a body. Their faces were white; their hands shook so that the pistols they carried pointed to twenty different places at once, and I thought it extremely likely that the rioters would be spared the trouble of killing us.
"Put those things down, you scoundrels!" I cried, feeling certain they would be more dangerous to us than to the enemy; and when it was done, I added, "Now, back to the staircase and fight for your mistress, or I will kill every man of you!"
"What cowards!" exclaimed the baroness scornfully. "They will do no good."
"They may form shields for braver men," said her daughter.
Meanwhile, the sounds of the fighting grew more acute, and, knowing how far outnumbered my companions were, I felt compelled to run to their aid.
The servants whom I had driven out were huddled together at the top of the stairs, doing nothing; but, half-way down, Stephen and his two companions were still making a great fight.
Uttering a cry of encouragement, I ran down, and, discharging my pistol into the thick of the crowd, drew my sword.
My brother had received a slight cut across the head; Rakoczy, as yet untouched, was smiling cheerfully, and by his marvellous skill of sword keeping back the most dangerous of the assailants.
Franz's right arm was hanging by his side useless; but he swung his club with the left, and smiled grimly when a man dropped.
The situation, however, grew desperate. Force of numbers compelled us to yield several steps; Stephen had again been hit, and Rakoczy was bleeding from a wound in the arm.
I would like to record how, in this last extremity, we alone, by the aid of our good swords, cleared the house of the rioters; but that would not be true, as we owed our safety to quite other means.
In the next chapter I will relate exactly what happened.