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Manasseh
A Romance of Transylvania
Retold from the Hungarian of
Dr. Maurus Jókai
Author of
"Black Diamonds," "Pretty Michal," "The
Baron's Sons," etc.
By
Percy Favor Bicknell
Translator of "The Baron's Sons"
Boston
L. C. Page & Company
1901
_Copyright, 1901_
BY L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
(INCORPORATED)
_All rights reserved_
Colonial Press
Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds &. Co.
Boston, Mass., U. S. A.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER PAGE
TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE vii
I. FELLOW-TRAVELLERS 1
II. A LIFE'S HAPPINESS AT STAKE 13
III. AN INTRUDER EXPELLED 19
IV. A BIT OF STRATEGY 24
V. HOLY WEEK IN ROME 34
VI. THE CONSECRATED PALM-LEAF 52
VII. AN AUDIENCE WITH THE POPE 60
VIII. AN UNWELCOME VISITOR 65
IX. THE ANONYMOUS LETTER 79
X. THE FOURTEENTH PARAGRAPH 90
XI. THE DECISION 103
XII. A GHOSTLY VISITANT 109
XIII. A SUDDEN FLIGHT 127
XIV. WALLACHIAN HOSPITALITY 137
XV. BALYIKA CAVE 158
XVI. A DESPERATE HAZARD 179
XVII. IN PORLIK GROTTO 188
XVIII. TOROCZKO 198
XIX. A MIDNIGHT COUNCIL 213
XX. MIRTH AND MOURNING 231
XXI. THE SPY 245
XXII. THE HAND OF FATE 256
XXIII. OLD SCORES 266
XXIV. A CRUEL PARTING 292
XXV. SECRETS OF THE COMMISSARIAT 302
XXVI. SOLFERINO 307
XXVII. AN HOUR OF TRIAL 314
XXVIII. A DAY OF RECKONING 318
TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE.
A few words of introduction to this striking story of life in
Szeklerland may not be out of place.
The events narrated are supposed to take place half a century ago, in
the stirring days of '48, when the spirit of resistance to arbitrary
rule swept over Europe, and nowhere called forth deeds of higher heroism
than in Hungary. To understand the hostility between the Magyars and
Szeklers on the one hand, and the Wallachians on the other,--a state of
feud on which the plot of the story largely hinges,--let it be
remembered that the non-Hungarian elements of the kingdom were
exceedingly jealous of their Hungarian neighbours, and apprehensive lest
the new liberal constitution of 1848 should chiefly benefit those whom
they thus chose to regard as enemies. Therefore, secretly encouraged by
the government at Vienna, they took up arms against the Hungarians. The
Croatians and Serbs, under the lead of Ban Jellachich and other imperial
officers, joined in the revolt. The most frightful atrocities were
committed by the insurgents. Hundreds of families were butchered in cold
blood, and whole villages sacked and burned. These acts of massacre and
rapine were especially numerous on the eastern borders of Transylvania,
among the so-called Szeklers, or "Frontiersmen," in whose country the
scene of the present narrative is chiefly laid.
The Szeklers, who also call themselves Attilans, claim descent from a
portion of that vast invading horde of Attila the Hun, which fell back
in defeat from the battle of Châlons, in the year 451, and has occupied
the eastern portion of Transylvania ever since. The Magyars are of the
same or a nearly kindred race, and speak the same language; but their
ancestry is traced back to a later band of invaders who forced their way
in from the East early in the tenth century. The Wallachians, or
"Strangers," form another considerable group in the population of
Hungary. "Rumans" they prefer to call themselves, and they claim descent
from the ancient Dacians, and from the conquering army led against the
latter by Trajan. Besides these, Germans, Croatians, Serbs, Ruthenians,
Slovaks, and other races, contribute in varying proportions to the
heterogeneous population of the country.
The Hungarian title of the book is "Egy az Isten,"--"One is the
Lord,"--the watchword of the Unitarians of Transylvania. The want of an
adequate English equivalent of this motto has led to the adoption of
another title. In this, as in all the author's romances, love, war, and
adventure furnish the plot and incident and vital interest of the
narrative.
As early as 1568, three years after the introduction of Unitarianism
into Poland, John Sigismund Szapolyai, the liberal and enlightened
voivode of Transylvania, issued a decree, granting his people religious
toleration in the broadest sense. The establishment of the Unitarian
Church in Hungary, on an equal footing with the Roman Catholic, the
Lutheran, and the Calvinist, dates from that time. Through many trials
and persecutions, through periods of alternate prosperity and adversity,
it has bravely maintained its existence up to the present day, and now
numbers nearly sixty-eight thousand members. Though a comparatively
small body, the Unitarians of Hungary "hold together well," as our
author says, and exert an influence in education and in all that makes
for the higher life, quite out of proportion to their numbers.
As in so many of Dr. Jókai's novels that have appeared in English, it
has been found necessary to abridge the present work in translation. Not
until we have endowed publishing houses which can afford to disregard
the question of sales, shall we see this author's books issued in all
their pitiless prolixity, in any country or language but his own. It is
to be noted, in conclusion, that the excessive wealth of incident with
which the following story abounds is characteristic of the author's
style. Broken threads and occasional inconsistencies are found in all
his works, and if they are met with here, it is not because of, but in
spite of, the abridgment which the book has undergone.
MANASSEH
CHAPTER I.
FELLOW-TRAVELLERS.
Our story opens in an Italian railway station, in the spring of 1848.
From a train that had just arrived, the passengers were hastening to
secure their places in another that stood waiting for them. A guard had
succeeded in crowding a party of two ladies and a gentleman into one of
these itinerant prison-cells, which already contained seven occupants,
before the newcomers perceived that they were being imposed upon. A
vigorous protest followed. The elder of the two ladies, seizing the
guard by the arm, addressed him in an angry tone, first in German, then
in French.
With the calm indifference of an automaton, the uniformed official
pointed to a placard against the wall. _Per dieci persone_ was the
inscription it bore. Ten persons, it seemed, were expected to find
places here.
"But we have first-class tickets," protested the lady, producing a bit
of yellow pasteboard in proof of her assertion.
The guard glanced at it with as little interest as he would have
bestowed on a scarab from the tomb of the Pharaohs. Shrugging his
shoulders, he merely indicated, with a wave of his hand, places where
the three passengers might, perhaps, find seats,--one in this corner, a
second yonder, and, if its owner would kindly transfer a greasy bundle
to his lap, a third over there.
This arrangement, however, was not at all to the liking of either the
ladies or their escort. The latter was altogether disinclined to accept
a seat between two fat cattle-dealers, being of no meagre dimensions
himself.
"We'll see about this!" he exclaimed, and left the compartment in quest
of the station-master.
That dignitary was promenading the platform in military uniform, his
hands behind his back. The complainant began to explain the situation to
him and to demand that consideration to which his first-class ticket
entitled him. But the _illustrissimo_ merely opened his eyes and
surveyed the gentleman in silence, much as a cuttlefish might have done
if similarly addressed.
"_Partenza-a-a!_" shouted the guards, in warning.
The indignant gentleman hurried back to his compartment, only to find
that, in his absence, three additional passengers had been squeezed into
the crowded quarters, so that he himself now raised the total to
thirteen,--a decidedly unlucky number. The ladies were in despair, and
their attendant had begun to express his mind vigorously in his native
Hungarian, when he felt himself touched on the elbow from behind, and
heard a voice accosting him, in the same tongue.
"My fellow-countryman, don't heat yourself. Not eloquence, but
backsheesh, is needed here. While you were wasting your breath I had a
guard open for me a reserved first-class compartment. It cost me but a
trifle, and if you and your ladies choose to share it with me, it is at
your service."
"Thank you," was the reply, "but we shall not have time to change; we
had only two minutes here in all."
"Never fear," rejoined the stranger, reassuringly. "The _due minute_ is
a mere form with which to frighten the inexperienced. The train won't
start for half an hour yet."
The two ladies were no less grateful to their deliverer than was
Andromeda of old to the gallant Perseus. They gladly accepted the
comfortable seats offered them, while their escort took a third, leaving
the fourth for their benefactor, who lingered outside to finish his
cigar. At the second ringing of the bell, he gave his half-smoked
Havana to a passing porter, mounted the running-board of the moving
train, and entered his compartment.
Seating himself, the young man removed his travelling-cap and revealed a
broad, arched forehead, surmounted by a luxuriant growth of hair. Thick
eyebrows, bright blue eyes, and a Greek nose were the striking
characteristics of his face, which seemed to combine the peculiarities
of so many types and races, that an observer would have been at a loss
to classify it.
The other gentleman of the party was of genuine Hungarian stock, stout
in figure and ruddy of countenance, with a pointed moustache, which he
constantly twirled. The younger of the two ladies was veiled, so that
only the graceful outlines of a face, evidently classic in its
modelling, were revealed to the eye. But the elder had thrown back her
veil, exposing to full view an honest, round face, blond hair, lively
eyes, and lips that manifestly found it irksome to maintain that silence
which good breeding imposes in the presence of a stranger.
The ladies' escort was a very uneasy travelling companion. First he
complained that he could not sit with his back toward the engine, as he
was sure to be car-sick. The young stranger accordingly changed places
with him. Then he found fault with his new seat, because it was exposed
to a draught which blew the cinders into his eyes. Thereupon the young
man promptly volunteered to close the window for him; but this only made
matters worse, for fresh air was indispensable. At this, the blond lady
gave up her place to the gentleman, and he, at last, appeared satisfied.
Not so, however, the lady herself; she was now seated opposite the
stranger, to whom she and her companions were so greatly indebted, and
the feeling of indebtedness is always somewhat irksome.
Women on a journey are inclined to regard a stranger's approach with
some suspicion, and to be ever on the alert against adventurers. A vague
mistrust of this sort concerning the young stranger may have been
aroused by the mere fact that, Hungarian though his language indicated
him to be, he and the ladies' escort indulged in no interchange of
courtesies so natural among fellow-countrymen meeting by chance in a
foreign land. Nevertheless the blond lady strove to assume an air that,
on her part, should signify an entire absence of interest in all things
relating to her _vis-à-vis_. Even when the sun shone in her face and
annoyed her, she seemed determined to adjust the window-shade without
any help from the stranger, until he courteously prevailed on her to
accept his aid.
"Oh, what helpless creatures we women are!" she exclaimed as she sank
back into her seat.
"You have yourselves to blame for it," was the other's rejoinder.
If he had simply offered some vapid compliment, protesting, for example,
that women were by no means helpless creatures, but, on the contrary,
the rulers of the stronger sex, and so of the world,--then she would
have merely smiled sarcastically and relapsed into silence; but there
was something like a challenge in his unexpected retort.
"_Par exemple?_" she rejoined, with an involuntary show of interest.
"For example," he continued, "a lady voluntarily surrenders the
comfortable seat assigned to her, and exchanges with a man who occupies
an uncomfortable one."
The lady coloured slightly. "A free initiative," said she, "is seldom
possible with a woman. She is ever subject to a stronger will."
"Yet she need not be," was the reply; "with the fascination which she
exerts over men she is in reality the stronger."
"Ah, yes; but suppose that fascination is employed over a man by women
that have no right thus to use their power?"
"Then the legitimate possessor of that right is still at fault. If
fascination is the bond by which the man can be held, why does she not
make use of it herself? A face of statuesque beauty that knows not how
to smile has often been the cause of untold unhappiness."
At these words the younger of the two ladies threw back her veil,
perhaps to gain a better view of the speaker, and thus revealed just
such a face as the young man had referred to,--a face with large blue
eyes and silent lips.
"Would you, then," the elder lady continued the discussion with some
warmth, "have a wife employ the wiles of a coquette toward her own
husband, in order to retain his love?"
"I see no reason why she should not if circumstances demand it."
"Very good. But you must admit that a wife is something more than a
sweetheart; maternal duties and cares also enter into her life, and
when, by reason of her exalted mission as a mother, anxieties and fears
will, in spite of her, depict themselves on her face, what then becomes
of your pretty theory?"
The attack was becoming too warm for the young stranger, and he hastened
to capitulate with a good grace. "In that case, madam," he admitted,
"the husband is bound to show his wife nothing but the purest devotion
and affection. The Roman lictors were, by the consul's orders, required
to lower their fasces before a Roman matron; she was undisputed mistress
in her sphere. The man who refuses to render the humblest of homage to
the mother of his children deserves to have a millstone hung about his
neck and to be cast into the sea."
The blond lady seemed softened by this unconditional surrender. "Are you
on your way to Rome, may I ask?" she presently inquired, her question
being apparently suggested by the other's reference to ancient Roman
customs.
"Yes, that is my destination," he replied.
"You go to witness the splendid ceremonies of Holy Week, I infer."
"No; they do not interest me."
"What!" exclaimed the lady; "the sublimest of our Church observances,
that which symbolises the very divinity of our Saviour, does not
interest you?"
"No; because I do not believe in his divinity," was the calm reply.
The lady raised her eyebrows in involuntary token of surprise at this
most unexpected answer. She suddenly felt a strong desire to fathom the
mysterious stranger. "I believe the Vatican is seeking an unusually
large loan just now," she remarked, half-interrogatively.
The stranger could not suppress a smile. He read the other's surmise
that he might be of Hebrew birth and faith. "It is not the papal loan,
madam," he returned, "that takes me to Rome; it is a divorce case."
"A divorce case?" The blond lady could not disguise her interest at
these words, while even the statuesque beauty at the other end of the
compartment turned her face fully upon the speaker, and her lips parted
slightly, like the petals of an opening rosebud.
"Yes," resumed the young man, "a separation from one who has denied and
rejected me for the sake of another; one whom I must for ever shun in
the future, and yet cannot cease to love; one whose loss can never be
made good to me. I am going to Rome because it is a dead city and
belongs equally to all and to none."
The train halted at a station, and the young man alighted. After a few
words to the guard he disappeared from sight.
"Do you know that gentleman?" asked the blond lady of her escort.
"Very well," was the reply.
"And yet you two hardly exchanged a word."
"Because we were neither of us so disposed."
"Are you enemies?"
"Not enemies, and yet in a certain sense opponents."
"Is he a Jew or an atheist?"
"Neither; he is a Unitarian."
"And what is a Unitarian, pray tell me?"
"The Unitarians form one of the recognised religious sects of Hungary,"
explained the man. "They are Christians who believe in the unity of
God."
"It is strange I never heard of them before," said the lady.
"They live chiefly in Transylvania," added the other; "but the great
body of them, taken the world over, are found in England and America,
where they possess considerable influence. Their numbers are not large,
but they hold together well; and, though they are not increasing
rapidly, they are not losing ground."
The younger lady lowered her veil again and crossed herself beneath its
folds; but her companion turned and looked out of the window with a
curious desire to scrutinise the wicked heretic more closely. Both the
ladies, as the reader will have conjectured, were strictly orthodox in
their faith.
The train soon started again, after the customary ringing and whistling
and the guards' repeated warning of "_partenza!_" But the young heretic
seemed to put as little faith in bells and whistles and verbal warnings
as in the dogma of the Trinity; for he failed to appear as the train
moved away from the station. The ladies who owed so much to his kindness
could not deny a certain feeling of relief at being freed from the
company of one who cherished such heterodox religious convictions.
"You say you are well acquainted with the young man?" the blond lady
resumed.
"Yes, I know him well enough," was the answer. "His name is Manasseh
Adorjan, he is of good old Szekler descent, and he has seven brothers
and a twin sister. They all live at home in their ancestral castle. Some
of the brothers have married, but all live together peacefully under one
roof and form one household. Manasseh seems to have been recognised by
the family as the gifted one,--his brothers are nothing more than honest
and intelligent Szeklers,--and for his education and advancement in the
world all worked in unison. When he was only twenty years old this young
genius became a candidate for the council. In Transylvania it is the
custom to make the higher government appointments from all four of the
recognised religious sects,--Roman Catholic, Calvinist, Lutheran, and
Unitarian. From that time dates our mutual hostility."
"Then you are enemies, after all."
"In politics, yes. However, I must not bore you ladies with political
questions. Suffice it to say, then, in regard to Manasseh Adorjan, that
a sudden change of government policy, and the defeat of his party, gave
the young man a fall from his proud eminence and led him to turn his
back, for a time at least, on his native land; for he scorned to seek
the preferment that was so easily within his reach by renouncing his
principles and joining the opposite party."
"Now I understand," interposed the blond lady, "what he meant by his
'divorce case,' and his parting with one who had denied and rejected
him, but whom he could never cease to love. Those were his words, and
they referred to his country."
"Yes, probably," assented the other; "for the young man is unmarried."
At the next station the subject of this conversation suddenly
reappeared.
"Ah, we thought you were lost," exclaimed the elder of the two ladies,
with a not unfriendly smile.
"Oh, no, not lost," returned Manasseh; "what belongs nowhere and to no
one cannot be lost. I merely took a seat on the imperial. Come, friend
Gabriel,"--turning to the ladies' escort,--"will you not join me there?
The view is really fine, and we can smoke also."
The one thus familiarly addressed, and whose name was Gabriel Zimandy,
accepted the invitation after a moment's demur. The ladies were left to
themselves.