After all, it cannot be denied that my uncle, Gergely Sonkolyi, was an
excellent man; and how well I remember him, as he hunted me in the
forest through bush and brake, while I never expected to rest until we
had made the circuit of the world.
I think I see him still, his cornelian-wood brass-headed cane in his
hand, and his cherry-wood pipe with its acorn-shaped bowl, which he
never took out of his mouth, even when he scolded--and with what
eloquence he could anathematize the sons of men! the raging of the
elements is like the notes of a clarionet in comparison! I was not one
who considered courage, under all circumstances, as a peculiar virtue;
and as soon as I perceived the storm gathering, I no longer took the
matter in jest, but looking about for the first loophole, valiantly
took to my heels, trusting to their speed to place me beyond its
reach.
But in order to explain why my uncle, Gergely Sonkolyi, hunted me
through the forest, I must turn up an early letter in the alphabet of
memory, and begin my story at the usual point--namely, the beginning.
When? I cannot precisely state the date; though so far I may
confidently affirm,--it was after the French war, and before the
cholera, that I was turned out of school in disgrace.
Ah yes, I behaved very ill indeed! I sinned against civilisation by
refusing to wear square-toed boots, and for this enormity I was
banished from the classes; and yet, nothing could induce me to wear
anything but sharp-nosed csizmas.
I went home; and my father, after inflicting severe corporal
punishment, threatened to bind me apprentice to a butcher. But,
unfortunately for this speculation, the resident executioner of oxen
declared that the trade required wit; otherwise I might now have
possessed a two-story house in Pesth.
"You hit where you have your eye, master, don't you?" I asked the
worthy slayer of cattle as he raised his axe, observing (for he
squinted hideously) that he fixed his right eye on the bullock, and
the left one on me.
"Eh! to be sure I do," replied the big man.
"Then I will just place myself beside you," I said, fearing he might
look out of the wrong eye.
"Never fear," said the big man; and with one blow the work was done.
"Well now, Master Janos, tell me what peculiar talents are requisite
here?"
"Heigh! you would not do for this trade. You see we have a different
way of reckoning from what you students have."
"I believe you are right, Master Janos; for my mother is always
complaining of your system of twice two."
And now this man is a landed proprietor, and I--a landless one!
Having been rejected by the schoolmaster and the butcher, I was
considered a hopeless subject, and left to my own devices. What should
I do at home? From morning till evening there was not wherewithal to
stain my teeth; so for want of better employment, I began to look
about the village. This certainly did not require much genius, for our
house was on an eminence, from whence we had a view of the whole
place; and when I mounted the great corn-stack in our yard, I could
see directly into some of our neighbours' courts.
Here it was that I became initiated in certain hidden mysteries,--for
example, how some of our village dames, who would launch forth on
holidays all smartness and finery, were up to their elbows in dirt at
home, and to their knees in mud--their heads vying with those unowned
hay-stacks which are kicked at by every passing colt; while their
lips, which were so daintily prim on holiday occasions that one could
scarcely believe them capable of pronouncing the letter R, now raised
the very dust on the roads with their abuse.
Then there was a house which had two doors to it; and whenever the
goodman made his exit at the one door, somebody else entered by the
other.
At another house, whenever the master came home late, his wife laid
his dinner outside, upon the millstone table, with the servants; and
the best of the matter was, that with this too familiar exception, he
was held in vast respect by the whole household.
All this was very well to contemplate from a distance; but I happened
at last to stumble upon something, a nearer view of which would have
been by no means disagreeable to me.
Our next neighbour was my excellent uncle, Gergely Sonkolyi. His house
was pretty ancient; and I remember, in my childish days, pulling the
reeds[49] out of the roof to look for sugar. In those days the walls
were painted partly blue and partly yellow; but afterwards the old man
had them all rough-cast, and then it was not necessary to paint them
again.
[Footnote 49: Reeds--_nad_. Cane sugar is called _nad czukor_.]
The house lay below the garden, and there were little plots before the
windows, which were always filled with bouquets of musk and carrot
flowers; and from a square hole in the roof sundry bunches of pepper
blushed forth, in the warlike vicinity of an outstretched scythe.
Several large mulberry trees in the court-yard formed a roosting-place
for the poultry; and opposite the kitchen door was the entrance to the
wine-cellar, over which hung a variety of pumpkins. Beyond this was a
large pigeon-house, farther on a pig-sty, then a two-yard measure,
then a draw-well; while various implements of industry appeared in the
perspective--such as ploughs, harrows, waggons, &c. And if to all
these I add nine dogs, two speckled bullocks, and a flock of geese, I
have before me a very perfect view of my Uncle Sonkolyi's court-yard.
The nine dogs kept watch at the entrance when my uncle was not
hunting, feasting in imagination upon the savoury odour of
gulyas-hus[50] which issued from the grated door of the kitchen, where
a large fire burned incessantly in the broad grate, with various huge
pots hissing among the flames, while a squadron of linen servants,[51]
each one redder than the other, hurried to and fro under the direction
of old Mrs. Debora.
[Footnote 50: The herd's meat; a hash composed of beef, with various
spices, and a quantity of onions and pepper.]
[Footnote 51: The kitchen-maids and boys wear linen dresses, and wide
linen drawers.]
Beyond the kitchen were several other apartments, for a description of
which I must refer my readers to the county chronicles, where all such
goods and chattels are particularly delineated. For my part, I only
remember the little back room, with its large white stove, the old
eight-day clock, two great tent-beds standing side by side, a
double-leaved oak table in the middle of the room, and the history of
Joseph and his brethren on the walls. A casement door, opening inside,
disclosed another chamber, whose walls were hung with hunting-bags,
whips, bugles, swords, and saddle accoutrements, each one more rusty
than another. But among all these reminiscences, the most interesting
in my regard is an old black leather sofa: ah! it was on that very old
sofa--but I must not anticipate.
Well, it was here that my dear uncle lived--the honourable and
nobly-born Gergely Sonkolyi.
But he might have lived here or anywhere else for aught I might have
known or cared, had it not been for the prettiest--the very prettiest
little girl that mortal eyes e'er rested on.
She was the old man's daughter. Little Esztike was a most lovely
creature: often, very often did sleep forsake me thinking of her,
although I still oftener dreamt of her--of those small soft hands, and
those large dark eyes, one half glance of which I would not have
exchanged for the Chinese emperor's finest cap. I was never tired of
standing guard all day long on the top of the corn-stack, from whence
I could see my little darling when she came out to the court to water
her flowers, or feed her doves. Each motion, each turn--in short,
everything about her, was so engaging and so attractive, that I often
forgot while watching her whether it was morning or evening.
But all this was not sufficient for happiness: it was like sucking the
honey through the glass, to dream of so much sweetness.
I would have given kingdoms, had I possessed them, to any one who
would have helped me with good counsel; but good counsels are not
mushrooms, growing where they are not sown.
Everybody knew that my uncle, Gergely Sonkolyi, was a peculiar
man,--who did not understand a joke in certain matters, and had a
strange fancy of never allowing any of the male sex to approach within
nine paces of his daughter. "Whoever wanted to marry her" (this was
his argument) "will ask for her; and if not, he shall not make a fool
of her." And his usual reply to suitors for his daughter's hand was:
"Will you have her to-day, nephew, or wait till to-morrow?" indicating
that she was still very young, and not fit for the charge of a
_ménage_. But all this I considered a very matter-of-fact view of
life; and I must confess that it annoyed me extremely at the time,
though afterwards I acknowledged he was right.
Notwithstanding my uncle's caution, however, there were times when I
contrived to make little Esztike sensible of my feelings towards her.
But there was one terrible fatality--that old Mrs. Debora, who never
moved from home, but kept watch for ever, like a dragon over treasure;
and wo to the unhappy youth who dared to visit Esztike--there were few
who had courage to make a second trial.
Some said that this Mistress Debora was a sister of the old man;
others, that she was his wife. Indeed she might have been his
grandmother, for she looked older than the Visegradi tower.[52]
[Footnote 52: An ancient fortress on the Danube.]
It was six whole years since I had shaken the school dust from my
boots, and still the gates of paradise were barred against me.
One evening, when the old gentleman had gone out, I could no longer
control my impatience; and leaping over the garden wall, I slipped to
the back of the house, where I could at least see the windows of the
room in which Esztike sat; and there I stood, with a beating heart,
and eyes fixed on the shadow of a hand which I distinctly saw through
the muslin curtains, moving up and down at some needle-work, while I
actually devoured it with my eyes.
Suddenly the hand advanced and knocked violently at the window; it was
impossible not to see that it was intended for me, and, while I was
hesitating whether to fly towards it or from it, the window burst
open, and I thought the Egyptian seven years of leanness had thrust
its head out--it was Mistress Debora!
"What do you want there, you good-for-nothing, long-legged
horihorgas,[53] staring like a calf at a new gate, eh? Get along about
your business, or I will set the dogs after you; if you have nothing
better to do, go and seek for grass to make your wisdom-teeth grow;"
and with this compliment she closed the window violently.
[Footnote 53: "Horihorgas," _hobbledehoy_.]
It was several minutes ere I could collect my scattered senses. At
last, I drew my cap over my eyes, and went home with a heavy heart. I
lay gazing all night at the starry heavens; the very thought of sleep
was banished from my senses. How could it be otherwise? as often as I
tried to think of my little Esztike's beautiful face, the hideous
vision of old Mistress Debora rose before me; and to increase my ill
humour, all the cats in the neighbourhood seemed to have collected to
squall and trill under my window. I contented myself for some time
with patiently anathematizing them; but perceiving at last that they
were rehearsing operas from end to end, I jumped up, and, seizing a
rolling-pin--the first implement which came to my hand, I dashed it
amongst the choristers. It was certainly a theatrical stroke, and from
that night forward I never had cause to repeat it.
Next morning, however, the black soup[54] awaited me. My father
entered the room, with his fox-headed mantle over one shoulder and his
lambskin cap drawn over his brow.
[Footnote 54: "Black soup" or black dose, _désagrément_.]
"Well, my lad, you have done for yourself now," he exclaimed; "you
knocked out the brains of Mrs. Debora's pet cat last night."
"Phu! this is a bad job indeed! Is there actually no life in him?"
"All gone, _ab intestato_," said my father, holding up the great fat
animal, with its four legs hanging down, and its white teeth grinning
at me.
I shook my head in despair. If Mistress Debora ever finds this out,
there is an end to all hope, and I shall never be able to marry. Alas!
why did I allow the cats to put me out of temper? A thought suddenly
struck me, and, dressing hastily, I laid the deceased neatly, out in
my handkerchief, and, tying up the four corners, started for Mistress
Debora's.
At the gate, I found the nine dogs disputing with a Jew, in whose
cloak they had made sundry air-holes, while the unfortunate man roared
and struggled, to the infinite amusement of the servants.
This was so far propitious for me, as otherwise they might have
required my passport also, and it would have been no jesting matter to
have struck my uncle's dogs; but happily I got through the kitchen
without observation, and looking once more at the four corners, to see
that all was right, I knocked humbly at Mistress Debora's door.
"Who is there?" said a voice like the sound of broken crockery.
I opened the door. At the memorable window sat Mistress Debora, who
turned round and squinted at me from beneath her spectacles. Her
hair--or more probably some other person's--was twisted up behind with
a giraffe comb, and the face, which was the colour of brown leather,
had more wrinkles than could well find room.
At the other window sat my little ruby at her work. There was not much
to be seen from her window, poor child! for a large vetch-stack was
piled up before it. As I entered, she blushed to the very shoulders,
or at least I fancied so; but her eyes were cast down, and she never
ventured to raise them.
"Well, what have you got there?" said Mistress Debora,--instead of
wishing me good morning.
I advanced, and, taking up her bony fingers, pressed them against my
teeth--bah! I have never been able to pick a bone since. "Ah! my dear,
worthy aunt, have you forgotten me? I am that little, fair-haired
Peter Csallokozi, who used to bring young pigeons so often to his dear
aunt."
"And who used to break my windows so often with pebbles. Well, you
have grown big enough, at any rate."
"But my dear aunt has preserved her looks quite wonderfully, or rather
I should say, grows younger."
"Ay, I was handsome enough in my day; folks can tell you that I used
to wash my face every evening with warm milk, which made my skin so
white, one can see that still--(it required imagination); there is not
so handsome a girl in the country as I was in my young days--your
father may remember that--('when you were young the priest was not
born that christened my father,' thought I, but did not say it). For
some years past I have lost much of my looks, certainly. Ay, ay, there
is nothing lasting under the sun!"
Meanwhile I had been drawing nearer to Esztike, which the dragon
observing, desired her to go out and see if the labourers were come.
Esztike rose and went out.
"Well, let me hear what you have to say, nephew; and tell it quickly,
for we are always busy here."
"To come to the point then, I must observe, dear aunt, that in these
days we cannot be too cautious; misfortune meets us at every step,
and"--
"Therefore we should stay at home and mind our business. Nothing can
happen to us at home."
"Not to ourselves perhaps, but there are other creatures about us,
aunt; for instance, you have cats and so have we"--
"Only that ours are handsomer."
"Perfectly true. Well, these cats frequently pay visits--yours to
ours, and ours to yours"--
"I know that well enough, for your cats gnaw all the sausages in our
attics; but ours don't need to go to you, for they have enough to eat
at home. Go, Estike," continued the hag, as the little girl
re-entered, "and see if the young peacocks have been fed."
("A time will come, you old witch, when I shall crack nuts with your
bones," thought I, but did not say it.) "Well, dear aunt, last night,
as I was saying, these innocent creatures had assembled, and were
singing away together--it was quite delightful to hear them--when some
cruel and treacherous hand knocked out the brains of the handsomest
among them."
"Served you right! what business had the cat to be out?"
"It was not our cat that was killed, but yours, dear aunt," I replied,
untying the handkerchief, and producing the remains of her favourite.
I shall never forget the look of rage, despair, and horror, which I
was doomed to encounter at that moment, and which has often haunted me
since, even in my dreams. I pinched myself at last, to assure myself
that I had not been turned to stone.
"_My_ cat!" she shrieked, while her eyes glared, and her lips foamed,
and, tearing it out of my hands, she began kissing and fondling it
like an infant. "Cziczuskam! cziczuskam! look at me--look at me!" she
cried, pulling its eyes open. At last she laid it on the table, and,
throwing herself upon it, began to weep bitterly.
At that moment Esztike re-entered, and sat down before her little
table. Taking advantage of Mistress Debora's emotion, I slipped up to
her--to Esztike, not to Mrs. Debora--and, pressing her small white
hand in mine, asked, in a tremulous voice, "You are not angry with me,
dearest Esztike, are you?"
"Why should I be angry?" said the artless little girl, casting down
her eyes, and drawing her hand out of mine.
It was a foolish question, I allow; but when one is in love, wise
questions do not always present themselves.
I had scarcely time to look at my little violet, before Mistress
Debora again grumbled out, "Esztike, go and see if your father is
coming!"
Tartar take the old vampire! I thought she was bewailing her cat. Once
more alone with her, however, I endeavoured to console her, spoke of
the weather, of the maize crop, of the vines--all in vain. At last she
started up--
"Wait, you worthless scamp!" she cried; "whoever you are, who murdered
this little innocent creature--I'll find you out, and revenge it on
your children's children--(Merciful Heaven! she means to live three
generations longer!) I will place the affair before the county, and
begin a suit immediately, a _violentialis, infamisationalis_ suit. You
shall be avenged, my cruelly murdered, innocent, speckled cat, and I
will make you a fearful example to generations still unborn!"
"You are quite right, my dear aunt, your determination is excellent;
he deserves the utmost rigour of the law, and I promise you I shall be
the first to look out for him."
"Will you really promise that?" exclaimed Mistress Debora; and then
followed what I had dreaded might be the consequence of my generous
speech. She actually seized and embraced me!
"My dear nephew, you were always a good lad; your father was a worthy
man--I love all your family. Find out the murderer of my cat, and I
will bless you for it, even after your death!"
"I would rather bless _you_ under those circumstances," I thought, but
did not say it; and, promising to do all in my power to hasten the
_criminalis_ inquisition, she proceeded to enumerate her favourite's
merits--how he could purr, how he would leap on the table, and drink
coffee out of a saucer, how sagacious, and how knowing he was; and
then followed anecdotes illustrative of the virtues of her poor lost
cat, to all of which I listened with unheard-of patience.
I at length suggested the prudence of removing the object of her
emotion, and, after a most affecting scene, she consigned the precious
relics to my arms, to be buried under her window, and I took leave,
promising to return as soon as possible with some information relative
to the murderer.
I then buried the cat, and raised a monument of sods above its grave,
by which means I thoroughly ingratiated myself in Mistress Debora's
favour.
Meanwhile, she seemed to have forgotten that she had sent Esztike out
to watch for her father; and when, with a beating heart, I hurried to
the gate, I found my little charmer still there.
"For whom are you waiting so long?" I asked, by way of conversation.
"For my dear father," she replied, twisting the little tassel of her
apron.
"Poor little Esztike! how much you have to suffer from that old Mrs.
Debora!"
She did not speak, but the large tears filled her eyes.
It was then I first remarked how beautiful black eyes look when they
weep: tears do not become blue eyes, I like _them_ best when they
smile.
"Ah, Esztike! it should not be thus if--but I won't let you be annoyed
if I can help it, that I won't."
She did not answer. I confess I should not have liked if she had been
able to answer every word I said.
"Nobody loves me," I continued, "in the wide world: my life is very
lonely and sad; but surely Heaven will smile upon us yet."
My little dove looked as if she wished to go, yet fain would stay; but
as I behaved discreetly, she remained. A cold wind began to blow, and
she had only a slight silk handkerchief round her neck.
"Why don't you put on a warmer handkerchief?" I asked. "You might
catch cold and die."
"It would be no great pity," said the poor child, sadly; "I would go
to a good place, I hope, and nobody would miss me."
"Oh! do not say that, unless you wish to break my heart (here my voice
was somewhat choked)! You must live a long time yet, dearest Esztike;
for if you die, I shall soon know how deep the Danube runs!"
And then I hastened away; and when I reached home, I found that my
cheeks were wet, and that I was sobbing like a child. Ay, the heart of
man makes him a strange animal!
* * * * *
For some time I had no occasion to fear my uncle's dogs, knowing that
Mistress Debora would not set them at me; but I generally watched till
the good man went out to wage war on the hares, and then I hastened to
our neighbour's with all the information I had collected as to the
murderer of the cat--describing, from his cap to his slippers, a being
very unlike myself, and whose supposed existence nearly turned
Mistress Debora's head.
But this could not continue very long; and my aunt at last began to
forget her pet's untimely end, and no longer received her dear nephew
so graciously as before.
After a lapse of some days, I called on pretext of speaking to my
uncle (I had watched till I had seen him go out, with gun and dogs);
and after poignant regrets at not finding him at home, I asked
Mistress Debora if she had heard what had happened in the village. As
nothing had happened, she naturally had not heard, and therefore was
the more curious to know; and I accordingly proceeded to repeat all
the gossip I had collected from some old gazettes with as much
eloquence as I could--and (Heaven forgive me!) I fear, as much
invention--till the old lady was ready to drop off her seat at my
histories. She would listen for hours; and though I dared not speak to
Esztike, we had frequent opportunities of exchanging sighs, and our
eyes carried on most interesting dialogues together.
On one pretext or other I was honourably received for some time, and
even allowed to bring Esztike books, which I had borrowed from a
cousin in the village. True, they were only German books; but what
could I do? Had I brought such unholy things into the house in the
Hungarian language, I should have been banished from it for ever; for,
if I remember rightly, they were romances and love tales, by Wieland
and Kotzebue. But they passed for good books; and Mistress Debora (the
worthy soul knew no other language than Magyar) would frequently
insist on my translating the salutary effusions, which of course I did
in as touching a style as possible, while the tears ran down the
furrows in her cheeks.
One day, after taking leave (I generally had an instinctive feeling as
to the time when my uncle would return), I was in the act of opening
the house door, when it was pushed towards me, and the next instant my
noble and honourable uncle, Gergely Sonkolyi, with pipe and
brass-headed cane, stood before me.
How to escape was my first impulse; but seeing this was impossible, my
next was to put a brave face on the matter.
"Well, nephew," said my uncle, twisting his moustache; "red,
stammering, out of breath--eh? So you visit here, do you?"
What could I answer? I was not fool enough to say I had come to visit
Esztike; and should I say I was visiting Mistress Debora--she may be
his wife, I thought, and then he will shoot me through the head!
"I know your errand," continued my uncle, pertinaciously holding the
handle of the door. "Storms and thunder! don't think to put your
fingers in my eyes! Ten thousand fiery devils! if ever you dare to
come within my door again, I swear by the woods of Karpath that I will
make leather belts of your skin!"
"Thank you, uncle," I replied, delighted to get off so easily, as,
once more commending me to the devil, he entered, and shut the door
behind him; while I heard his allegorical phrases--or, as an impartial
world would call them, his oaths--echoing wrathfully through the
house.
What was to be done? I found myself just where I had been before the
death of the cat.