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PRETTY MICHAL
A FREE TRANSLATION OF MAURUS JÓKAI'S ROMANCE
"A SZÉP MIKHÁL"
BY R. N. BAIN
NEW YORK
CASSELL PUBLISHING COMPANY
104 & 106 FOURTH AVENUE
COPYRIGHT, 1892, BY
CASSELL PUBLISHING COMPANY.
_All rights reserved._
THE MERSHON COMPANY PRESS,
RAHWAY, N. J.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
Wherein is shown how sagely the Rev. Master Fröhlich
brought up his motherless daughter, pretty Michal, 1
CHAPTER II.
Wherein is shown how the evil dragon brought to
naught all the sage devices of our reverend friend, 10
CHAPTER III.
Wherein is clearly shown that he who tends the sheep
is much more honorable than he who slaughters them, 19
CHAPTER IV.
Wherein are described all manner of robbers and
dangers, wherefrom the righteous are wondrously
delivered, 26
CHAPTER V.
Which will be a short chapter but not a very merry
one, 52
CHAPTER VI.
Contains the proper explanation of things which have
hitherto remained obscure, 56
CHAPTER VII.
Wherein are described the house and the mistress of
the house, 60
CHAPTER VIII.
In which are described the joys of long-parted but
finally reunited kinsmen, and everyone learns to
know exactly how he stands, 66
CHAPTER IX.
In the course of which the stern father, in the
hardness of his heart, chastizes his lost son, but
finally grants forgiveness to the repentant
prodigal, 72
CHAPTER X.
In which is shown how vain it is for womankind to
murmur against the course and order of this world, 81
CHAPTER XI.
Wherein is shown what terrible perils befall women
who are not resigned to their fate, and do not obey
their lords and masters, 89
CHAPTER XII.
Consists of a very few words which are, however, of
all the more consequence, 102
CHAPTER XIII.
Wherein the knavish practices of the evil witch are
only insinuated, but not yet fully divulged, 103
CHAPTER XIV.
Which goes to prove that the society of great folks
is not always a thing to be desired, 107
CHAPTER XV.
Valentine really becomes one of those who work in
blood, 122
CHAPTER XVI.
Wherein is shown of what great use it is when a
mother is hardhearted toward her only son. Also
concerning divers skirmishes with the Turks, things
not to be read of without a shudder, 129
CHAPTER XVII.
In which it is shown by an edifying example that he
who pursues the path of evil must needs fall into
the ditch, 140
CHAPTER XVIII.
Wherein is related what very different fates befell
the two honest comrades, 145
CHAPTER XIX.
The story now to be related very much resembles the
story of Joseph and Potiphar, but not quite,
inasmuch as it is not Joseph, but Potiphar, who is
finally cast into prison, 152
CHAPTER XX.
In which is a very circumstantial, if not very
pleasant, description of all the conditions to be
observed in the exchange and purchase of slaves, 165
CHAPTER XXI.
Is full of good tidings, inasmuch as it treats of
the discomfiture of evil-doers, 168
CHAPTER XXII.
Wherein is related what end was reserved for the
evil-doers by way of deterrent example, which
example, however, only distressed the soft-hearted
without terrifying the stiff-necked, 172
CHAPTER XXIII.
In which it is shown not only that Satan is the
author of all evil, but also that the grisly
witches, his handmaidens, are always ready with
their malicious practices to plunge poor mortals
into utter destruction, 181
CHAPTER XXIV.
A true relation of the thoughtlessness of youth, and
the artifices whereby women enthrall their lovers, 194
CHAPTER XXV.
Man cannot fathom the wiles which witches imagine
when they unite in wedlock lovers whom they have
clandestinely brought together, 200
CHAPTER XXVI.
The mummery receives its due punishment;
nevertheless, Mercy and Compassion come to the
mummer's aid, and deliver her out of all her
troubles, 209
CHAPTER XXVII.
Wherein is shown how great a force the will of a
woman is, and how quickly it can alter the order of
things which man devises, 216
CHAPTER XXVIII.
Wherein occur such astounding transformations that
people are scarcely able to recognize their very
selves. Michal, however, is calumniated in a matter
wherein she is absolutely innocent, 222
CHAPTER XXIX.
Concerning a terribly great contest, from which it
will be seen that where his spouse's honor was
concerned, Valentine put no bounds to his fury, 229
CHAPTER XXX.
Which teaches that outward beauty, be it never so
precious a property, is often most dangerous to its
possessor, 236
CHAPTER XXXI.
'Tis a true proverb which says that the devil sends
an old woman when he cannot come himself; but of
course it only applies to wicked old women, for
there are very many gentlewomen well advanced in
years who lead a God-fearing life and do good to
their fellow-creatures, 246
CHAPTER XXXII.
Whereby we learn that it is not good to come to
close quarters with Satan, for if we catch him by
the horns he butts us, if we clutch him by the
throat he bites us, and if we hold him by the neck
he kicks us, 259
CHAPTER XXXIII.
Which shows what a good thing it is when "publica
privatis præcedunt," or, in other words, when public
duties take precedence of private affairs, 276
CHAPTER XXXIV.
The fulfillment of the proverb, as you make your bed
so must you lie in it, comes to pass, 289
CHAPTER XXXV.
Things in this world do not always exactly turn out
as men devise beforehand, 305
CHAPTER XXXVI.
Wherein carnival revels are described, 311
CHAPTER XXXVII.
The Lenten penance succeeds the carnival revels, 318
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
In which it is shown how ghosts haunt churchyards, 320
CHAPTER XXXIX.
In which everyone at last gets his deserts, 325
CHAPTER XL.
All things pass away, but science remains eternal, 334
PRETTY MICHAL.
CHAPTER I.
Wherein is shown how sagely the Rev. Master Fröhlich
brought up his motherless daughter, pretty Michal.
In the days when the Turkish Sultan ruled in Hungary as far as
Ersekujvar and Eger, the German Kaiser from Eger to the Zips
country, and George Rakoczy, Prince of Transylvania, from Zips to
the Szeklerland--all three of whom were perpetually fighting among
themselves, sometimes two against one and sometimes all together
indiscriminately, so that the inhabitants had a very lively time of
it--in those days (somewhere about 1650) the learned and reverend
Master David Fröhlich was the pride of the Keszmár Lyceum and
Professor of Mathematics and Astronomy there. Master Fröhlich knew
everything which could be reasonably expected of a man. He knew how
to calculate solar and lunar eclipses. He knew how to take the old
town-clock to pieces when it got out of order and put it together
again. He could fix the weather for a whole year beforehand. He
understood the _aureus calculus_ and could cast a horoscope with any
man living. He knew by heart which trades could be carried on best
in each of the twelve months. He had at his fingers' ends the arcana
and secret properties of all herbs and plants, could explain
sympathies and antipathies, nay, he could be implicitly trusted in
the manufacture of amulets.
But his most difficult science was that of which we are now about to
speak.
He had one beautiful daughter whom he had brought up without the
help of a mother, and that, surely, is a feat of which any man might
be proud! His wife had died on the very day on which she had given
birth to the child, and the widower had forthwith steadily set
before himself the problem of educating the girl without the
slightest female intervention.
The way in which he managed by artificial contrivances to find a
substitute for mother's milk was a miracle of itself; but even that
was as nothing compared with the masterly system of education which
he himself invented and applied, in order to make his daughter grow
up a discreet and modest maiden, despite the grievous want of
maternal supervision. For he would neither marry again, nor trust
his daughter to female nurses and servants, nor even admit any of
his own kinswomen into the house.
He inaugurated his system at her very baptism, by giving his
daughter the name of Michal. At first hearing, everyone, of course,
takes this for a man's name, never suspecting that a damsel lurks
behind it; perhaps only one among a thousand even knows that it is a
girl's name after all. Was not one of the wives of King David called
Michal?--she, I mean, who laughed when she saw the great King
dancing in the street. So the reverend and learned gentleman
christened his little daughter Michal, arguing that the Evil One
would not so lightly venture to tackle a name with such a masculine
ring about it.
Then he personally instructed his daughter in all good things from
her babyhood upward. She never went to school. Everything, from the
alphabet to the catechism, she learnt at home. Later on, as the
damsel's mind grew stronger, he taught her not only the Latin and
Greek tongues, but all the sciences which are useful and necessary
in life; _e. g._, the tabular calculations as to how much meat,
butter, meal, peas, grain, salt, etc., a prudent housewife should
dispense for two, four, eight, sixteen, etc., persons per day, week,
or month, so that the domestics may neither suffer hunger nor yet
overload their stomachs (N. B., salt must be particularly well
looked after lest the mice get at it, for everyone knows that when
mice eat salt they multiply prodigiously); item, wherewith to feed
the livestock; how much meal and bran should be got in exchange from
the miller for so much wheat; how to prepare yeast, knead dough,
bake bread, not forgetting to always turn the tub toward the north.
And bread making in the Highlands of North Hungary was a serious
business in those days, for rye meal was often scarce, and bread had
to be made of spelt, buckwheat, sweet peas, and other disgusting
things. Galen especially recommends bean meal bread. Dioscorides, on
the other hand, prefers a judicious admixture of onions. Nay, in
hard times, when no corn is to be had, poor people must be prepared
to make bread of dried quinces, medlars, elderberries, hips and
haws, and fungus, while the clergy and people of quality must be
content with honey bread, maize bread, or even oil cakes. Flesh
bread, too, of which Pliny so much approves, may be used
occasionally, or curd bread, which was the favorite dish of
Zoroaster. The Rev. Master Fröhlich also taught his daughter how to
preserve fruit, and how to convert it into blue, green, red, and
yellow jellies, without using any injurious pigments.
Moreover in these sciences beer brewing was also included, for the
ladies of Keszmár were wont to make their own ale. Every citizen
there owed his beer to his wife and daughter. No one ever thought of
getting it from the inn.
Nor was that all. It was part of every good housewife's business in
those days to keep in store all manner of medicines, and to know how
to concoct health-giving cordials from hundreds of wonder-working
herbs. To them the medical science was far from being the finger and
thumb work which our modern doctors make it, who, after prescribing
you a dozen doses or so of ipecacuanha against fever, hold
themselves absolved from all further responsibility. Our
grandmothers had efficacious cordials against every malady under the
sun, and in cases of serious illness they dosed the patient with the
infallible elixir known as Galen's specific, the principal
ingredients of which were Oriental pearls, red coral, and emeralds
powdered fine, cubeb balsam, lignum aloes, muscat blossoms,
frankincense, musk, bezoar, manus Christi, flesh-colored rose
leaves, oil of cinnamon, and kirmis berries. Extraordinary, indeed,
was the amount of knowledge which the housewife of yore had to carry
about in her noddle!
And besides the generally recognized alphabets of our own days there
were, at that time, three-and-thirty other symbols, the
signification whereof every good cook was bound to know by heart
before she could mix her ingredients. An oval with a stroke through
it meant "salt"; a square with a cross beneath it, "cream of
tartar"; a square with a horn, "oil"; a horseshoe, "spirits of
wine"; an oblong, "soap"; one triangle, "spring water"; two
triangles, point to point, "distilled water"; a crown with a star,
"regulus stellatus." Without a knowledge of this science, no woman
was regarded as perfect.
And then again the various kinds of aquavitæ! Nowadays most of us do
not even know the proper meaning of the term; then, their manifold
and salutary effects were universally recognized and appreciated.
Everyone knew, for instance, that they kept the blood warm and
fluid; removed all venom; dried up all sluggish humors; strengthened
the memory, etc. Then there were various mysterious oils, the most
costly of which was victriol (quite a different thing from vitriol),
which our great-grandmothers called "potable gold," to say nothing
of a multitude of waters, vinegars, acids, antidotes, plasters, and
pastils no reputable housewife could afford to be without, for was
she not the natural doctor and nurse of the whole family?
And the art of cookery was not a whit less abstruse than the art of
pharmacy. The stomachs of our ancestors were accustomed to very
complicated dishes. Cookery was a more difficult science than
metaphysics.
Then, too, the whole charge of the garden lay upon the housewife's
shoulders, and gardening was by no means the simple affair it is
nowadays. Our great-grandmothers, in their gardening capacity, knew
a whole host of things which have long since been forgotten. To
prevent the fruit falling from the tree before its time, they bored
a hole in the roots and drove through it a whitethorn peg; to
prevent the cherries from ripening too soon, they surrounded the
roots with unslacked lime; when they wanted scarlet pippins, they
softened the grafts in pike's blood, and when they wished to
propagate aromatic fruit, they bored a hole in the trunk of the tree
and filled it with fragrant oil. Our grandmothers were so clever
that they could compel a pear tree to bring forth grapes; they
could grow citrons as large as your head, figs with almond kernels
inside and the letters of the alphabet outside, and even nuts
without shells. They knew how to graft medlars on coffee trees,
which then produced an entirely new fruit, exceedingly luscious and
fragrant. When they wanted the bitter almond to bear sweet almonds,
they took counsel of Theophrastus and drove iron nails into the
roots. They knew the good and bad effects of winter upon all kinds
of garden produce. Even the simple, unsophisticated potato, only
just introduced from America, and called by them _adenes cardensis_,
was powerless against their innumerable artifices. Our
great-grandmothers knew and cultivated scores of vegetables the very
names of which are unknown to their posterity. All their dishes were
pungent with the most exquisite spices. They carried on a regular
trade in all manner of wholesome herbs and pigment plants. Saffron
alone was taken by the ton to the Zips markets, and thence exported
to Turkey. The kitchen garden was a veritable gold mine to the
thrifty housewife.
Nor must the flower garden be forgotten. In those days a speculation
in tulips was going on which can only be compared with the Bourse
speculations of our own days. The horticulturist had to carry about
in his head a whole dictionary of French botanical terms if he meant
to make a living. A lady gardener who understood her business had to
know what species of flowers could be planted and sown under the
zodiacal signs [Symbol: Aries], [Symbol: Taurus], [Symbol: Gemini],
or [Symbol: Cancer], [Symbol: Leo], [Symbol: Virgo]; to which the
signs [Symbol: Libra], [Symbol: Scorpio], and [Symbol: Sagittarius]
are baleful; and how seldom those flourish which are planted under
the signs [Symbol: Capricorn], [Symbol: Aquarius], and [Symbol:
Pisces]; in fact, she had to have her almanac at her fingers' ends.
The floral art had its own literature and its own professors, who
disposed of tulips and carnations to the value of millions, and
sent whole fleets laden with bulbs and plants to China and America.
Nay, the most distinguished writers of Europe did not deem it
beneath their dignity to dabble in the flower trade, just as the
writers of our own day dabble in politics.
It was certainly much more beneficial for young women to read about
such things than to fill their heads with the scandal and tomfoolery
of these later times.
If, however, they must needs know something about love and
antipathy, they could gather from these sage botanical records that
the fig tree and the rue love each other, for which reason it is
advisable to plant rue close to fig trees, especially as it keeps
away those sworn enemies of figs, the frogs; that the asparagus
loves the reed and the rosemary the sage, for which reason whoever
sets about planting rosemary must first of all rub his hand well
with sage leaves, so that the young transplants may thrive; that the
orange tree loves the cypress and the vine the cherry tree, and that
the lily thrives beside the rose, but also beside the garlic--'tis
only a matter of taste. On the other hand, there are plants which
hate, which absolutely cannot endure each other. For instance, when
one plants the noble anthora close to the wild najollus, it dries up
and withers, despite the most constant care; the angelica and the
hemlock infallibly throttle each other; while the antipathy of the
vine to the colewort goes so far that when a man who has drunk a
little too much wine eats of the colewort he instantly becomes
sober, and if you mix a little wine in the pot where the colewort is
boiling it will never get soft, stew it as long as you will.
Now pretty Michal mastered all these sciences not only with edifying
assiduity, but even with real enthusiasm; she found pleasure,
employment, and profit therein. Her books, her science, and her
flowers not only rejoiced her heart, they filled her pockets
likewise. Her garden especially was a veritable gold mine, for while
in those days a goose cost only a shilling and a young ox ten
shillings, no one considered paragon tulip bulbs dear at ten pounds
a piece. But (and this in Pastor Fröhlich's opinion was the greatest
gain of all) the flowers and the books left the damsel no time for
idle pranks; to this end the whole pedagogical system of the
reverend gentleman had been directed from the very first.
Whenever his lectures called him away from home, the professor took
down his grammars, lexicons, and other folios before he started, and
gave Michal as much to learn by heart as would occupy her the whole
time he was away at the Lyceum; then he locked the house door and
walked off with the key in his pocket. The very first thing he did
when he came home again was to make her repeat the set task from
beginning to end. Such a method is infallible. A servant-maid, a
governess, may deceive the cleverest cross-questioner, the ancient
folios never. They tell him at once whether the damsel's eyes have
been fixed on the book all the time, or whether they've been
straying about elsewhere.
In this way pretty Michal picked up a very considerable store of
general information.
Sundays and festivals were the only days on which she left the
house, and then she used to walk to church by her father's side. On
such occasions she wore a coffee-brown frock, with a collar reaching
to the chin, and sleeves which hid the very tips of her fingers. The
other girls prided themselves on the taste with which they adorned
their girdles, but pretty Michal's girdle could not boast of as much
as a silver buckle. Her _parta_, as the headdress of the Hungarian
maidens is called, was quite black, and over it was thrown a veil
which completely covered her face in front, and hung down so far
over her shoulders behind that it was absolutely impossible to make
out whether her twin long, pendent pigtails were blond or
chestnut-brown. Her eyes, too, were not permitted to declare whether
they were black or blue. During service they were well hidden behind
their long lashes, for she modestly kept them fixed upon her
prayer-book the whole time, and if she raised them during the sermon
it was only to rivet them upon the preacher. Moreover, the very wise
and proper regulation which not only separated the sexes, but made
the men sit right behind the women, prevented her from ogling
anybody even if she had a mind to. As for the students, they sat so
high up in the choir that they could see nothing from thence but the
notice-boards and the Decalogue.
Further, the reverend gentleman never took Michal to weddings or
other entertainments, the canonical prescriptions forbidding a
clergyman's daughter to dance. In fact, he did not even let her make
the acquaintance of other girls, for fear she should get a liking
for the frivolous ways of the gossiping minxes.
We must not forget to mention, too, that his house was so
constructed as to exclude by anticipation every possible temptation.
All the windows of pretty Michal's bedroom looked out upon the
courtyard, which was shut in on two sides by the blank walls of the
opposite houses, while the third side opened into the garden, which
was cut off from the outer world by a still higher wall richly
embroidered with iron nails and sharp spikes. Thus, pretty Michal's
heart might be regarded as a stronghold which no foe could capture
either by force or by fraud; and in the light of a foe was regarded
every mortal of the masculine gender who did not happen to be a
favorite of the reverend gentleman.