Here Forval coughed to conceal his annoyance.
"As for Sobieski," continued Banfi, "depend upon it he will not attack his present ally the Emperor for our sweet sakes; nor will the Sultan break his oath as lightly as Master Michael Teleki seems to imagine.
What then remains for us to do? Call the nomadic Tartars into Hungary, I suppose! The poor Hungarian population would certainly express their grat.i.tude for such a.s.sistance as that! Your ideal Hungarian, Nicolas Zrinyi, used to tell a tale which deserves to be handed down to our latest posterity. The devil was carrying a Szekler away on his back. The Szekler"s neighbour met and thus accosted him: "Whither away, gossip?"
"I am being carried to h.e.l.l," said he. "Eh! but that is a very bad job,"
returned the other. "Yes, but it might be much worse," replied the rogue. "Just fancy if he were to sit on my back, dig his spurs into me, and compel me to carry him instead!"--Let every one apply this fable as he thinks best. For my part, I cannot quite decide which I fear the most, the enmity of the Emperor or the amity of the Sultan. For, tell me, what will be the end of this war? If we conquer with the aid of the Sultan, Transylvania will become a Turkish Pachalic; if we are conquered, we shall sink into an Austrian province, while now we are a free and independent State by the grace of G.o.d! In any case Hungary"s fate is bound to improve, and that fate touches my heart quite as much as theirs who fancy they can heal the sick man with the sword. But nothing is to be won in that way. How much blood has not already been shed without the slightest result? Let us try some other way. Surely the Magyar has sense enough to subdue by his intellectual superiority those whom he cannot overcome by force of arms? Subdue your conquerors, I say.
You who are second to none in sense, energy, wealth, and the beauty of manliness, why do you not take the highest posts which belong to you of right? If you were to sit where the Pazmans[50] and the Esterhazys[51]
have sat, there would be no room left for a Lobkovich.[52] If instead of fighting petty, fruitless battles now and then, you were to use your intellects and your influence, you might make your land happy without costing her a drop of blood. It rests with you to restore once more the age of Louis the Great,[53] that foreign prince who became enamoured of his adopted people, turned Magyar, and made the nation as great and as powerful as the nation made him. The Estates of Transylvania will undertake to mediate between Hungary and the Emperor, and so get you back your privileges and your possessions. I will be the first to stretch out a helping hand, and a.s.suredly Master Michael Teleki will be the second. If, however, you do not accept this offer, then, I say, beware of what you do. As to the prophecy--Our turn to-day, yours to-morrow! I"ll only say, Fear nothing for Transylvania. I"ll be bold to say, that whoever invades her by force of arms, will always find a host of equal strength ready to meet him; but let me tell you, that that same host will never be so foolhardy as to invade a foreign land."
[Footnote 50: Cardinal Peter Pazman (1570-1637), a famous Hungarian patriot and statesman.]
[Footnote 51: The celebrated Nicholas Esterhazy of Galanta, Palatine of Hungary.]
[Footnote 52: Lobkovich (Eusebius Vincent), Leopold I."s prime minister (1670-73), who attempted to make the Emperor absolute in Hungary.]
[Footnote 53: Louis the Great, King of Hungary, 1342-1381.]
"Then Hungary is to you a foreign land?" cried a mocking voice from the crowd.
This interruption was too much for Banfi"s composure. He turned furiously towards the quarter whence the question came, and meeting the cold, contemptuous looks of the Hungarians a.s.sembled there, he quite forgot himself; everything around him seemed to be in a whirl, and dashing his kalpag to the ground, he cried--
"Right, right--indeed! A foreign land--nay more, a stepmother you have always been to us. We have always had to suffer for your sins. We have won victories, and you have frittered away the fruits of our victories.
Your discords have thrice brought Hungary low, and thrice have we raised her from the dust. We have given you heroes; you have given us traitors!"
These last words Banfi was obliged to roar out at the top of his voice to make himself heard above the ever-increasing din. The uproar was general. Every one tried to shout down his neighbour. The Hungarian gentlemen sprang from their seats and reviled Banfi. The graver members of the peace party shook their heads when they saw how Banfi"s indiscretion had let loose the pa.s.sions of the a.s.sembly.
Beldi now arose. All lovers of order cried at once--"Let us hear Beldi!"
Then a young man suddenly leaped over the barrier, and placing his hand on Teleki"s arm-chair, planted himself in front of Banfi with a flushed and defiant face. It was Emerich Tokoli.
"I too have got a word to say," cried he, in a voice audible above the tumult. "I also have the right to say a word or two within this barrier.
If you will deny your mother, Hungary, and draw boundaries between her and you, it is time for me to speak. I am just as good a territorial n.o.ble here in Transylvania as that proud and petty demiG.o.d, whose father before him was just such another reviler of his mother country!"
Beldi was making his way towards Tokoli to stop him from speaking, when some one from behind seized his hand, and turning round, he was astonished to see his own son-in-law, Paul Wesselenyi, who begged him to step outside for a moment.
Beldi retired into the lobby, while Tokoli"s voice thundered through the hall above the never-ending din.
A veiled lady awaited Beldi in the lobby, whom, when she had unveiled her face, he had some difficulty in recognizing as his daughter Sophia, so much had grief and care changed and broken her. Her beautiful eyes were red with weeping.
"We are homeless fugitives," sobbed Sophia, sinking on her father"s breast. "They have taken from us our Hungarian possessions; my husband has been driven from his castle, and a price set on his head."
Beldi became very serious. This unexpected ill-tidings p.r.i.c.ked him to the heart. Within, Tokoli"s thundering voice was raising a perfect tempest of indignation, but Beldi no longer made haste back to quell it.
"Remain with me," said he, with a troubled countenance; "here you can dwell in peace till things improve."
"Too late!" said Wesselenyi. "I have already enlisted under the flag of the French General, Count Boham, as a common soldier."
"You a common soldier! You, the descendant of the Palatine Wesselenyi!
And what in the meantime is to become of my daughter?"
"She will remain behind with you--till Hungary has been won back again!"
and with these words he placed his wife in Beldi"s arms, kissed her on the forehead, and departed with dry eyes.
Within raged the tumult. Beldi heard his daughter sobbing, and a bitter feeling began to fill his breast, a feeling not unlike a nascent desire of vengeance. He felt almost pleased that war was being demanded within there; and he, the leader of the peace party, was also just about to draw his sword, rush into the Diet, and exclaim--"War! war! and retribution!" when the pages led into the lobby an old man as pale as death, who, recognizing Beldi, staggered up to him and addressed him in a trembling voice--
"My lord, are you not the Captain-General of the Szeklers, Paul Beldi of Uzoni?"
"Yes. What do you want with me?"
"I am the last inhabitant of Benfalva!" stammered the dying man. "War, famine, and pestilence have carried off all the others. I alone remain, and feeling that I too am on the point of death, I have brought you the official seal of the place and the church bell. Give them to the Diet.
Preserve them in the archives, and write over them--"These are the bell and the seal of what was once Benfalva, the inhabitants of which utterly perished.""
Beldi"s nerveless arm dropped the hilt of his sword, and he tore himself from his daughter"s embrace.
"Go to your mother at Bodola, and learn to bear your fate with a stout heart!"
Then he took the seal and the bell from the dying man, and hastened back to the hall of the Diet, where Tokoli had just finished his speech, which had produced a terrible effect on the a.s.sembly. The French ministers were shaking hands with him.
Beldi stepped up to the president"s table, and placed upon it the seal which had just been handed to him.
Every one looked at him, and seeing that he was about to speak, became silent.
"Look!" cried he, with a voice broken by emotion. "A desolated town sends its official seal to the Diet by its last inhabitant. There are already enough of such towns in Transylvania, and in time there may be more. War and famine have wasted the fairest portions of our land. You should not forget, gentlemen, to place this seal among your other--trophies!"
At these last words Beldi"s voice sank almost to a whisper, yet so deep was the silence, that he was heard distinctly in every part of the hall.
A thrill of horror pa.s.sed through every one present.
"Outside that door I hear some one weeping," continued Beldi, with quivering lips. "It is my own dear daughter, the wife of Paul Wesselenyi, who, driven from her fatherland, on her knees implored me, as I loved her, to let the _lex talionis_ a.s.sert its rights. But I say, let my child weep, let her perish, may I also perish with my whole family if need be, but let not the curse of war fall on Transylvania!
May no one in Transylvania have cause to weep because I suffer. No! I would declare against war though every one here present were for it....
Gentlemen!... this seal ... and the other relic too ... forget not to preserve them among your trophies!"
Beldi sat down. Long after his words had ceased to sound, a death-like silence continued to prevail.
Teleki, ascribing this silence to indignation against Beldi, very confidently arose, and bade the Estates give their votes. But for once he had wrongly felt the pulse of public opinion, for the majority of the Diet, deeply touched by the foregoing scene, voted for peace. So great was still the influence of Banfi and Beldi in the land.
Teleki looked with some confusion at his future son-in-law, who clenched his fists, and murmured bitterly with tears in his eyes--
"Flectere si nequeo Superos, Acheronta movebo!"
As the a.s.sembly broke up, Forval and Nicholas Bethlen again met together.
"So our hope that Transylvania will take up arms has been dashed,"
observed the crestfallen Frenchman.
"On the contrary, our hope only now begins," returned Bethlen, tapping his friend on the shoulder. "Did you hear that young man Tokoli speak?"
"Yes; he spoke very prettily."