Produced by Al Haines.
[Illustration: Cover]
[Illustration: "The white-coats poured in their volley. Page 190.]
[Illustration: "_I shook my sword at the retreating figure._ Page
364.]]
_The_
_Red, White, and Green_
_By_
_HERBERT HAYENS_
_Author of "A Captain of Irregulars," "A Vanished Nation,"
"A Fighter in Green," "An Emperor's Doom,"
&c. &c._
_WITH ILLUSTRATIONS_
_THOMAS NELSON AND SONS_
_London, Edinburgh, and New York_
_1901_
By the same Author.
THE BATTLE AND THE BREEZE. Price 5s.
A VANISHED NATION. Price 5s.
A CAPTAIN OF IRREGULARS. Price 5s.
A FIGHTER IN GREEN. Price 5s.
IN THE GRIP OF THE SPANIARD. Price 5s.
AN EMPEROR'S DOOM. Price 5s.
CLEVELY SAHIB. Price 5s.
UNDER THE LONE STAR. Price 5s.
THE BRITISH LEGION. Price 3s. 6d.
T. NELSON AND SONS,
_London, Edinburgh, and New York._
CONTENTS.
I. WILL THE REGIMENT MARCH?
II. A SOLDIER OF THE RIGHT SORT
III. THE INSURRECTION IN FULL SWING
IV. VIENNA IN FLAMES
V. ARRESTED
VI. HARD WORK AT PESTH
VII. A FIGHT IN THE MOUNTAINS
VIII. A DRAWN BATTLE
IX. THE RETREAT
X. ON THE SICK LIST
XI. GOeRGEI TO THE RESCUE
XII. A SORROWFUL VICTORY
XIII. A VISIT FROM STEPHEN
XIV. THE QUARREL WITH COUNT BEULA
XV. HOW STEPHEN CARRIED THE FLAG
XVI. I JOIN THE STAFF
XVII. THE WOUNDING OF GOeRGEI
XVIII. GOeRGEI FORGETS HIS WOUND
XIX. SENT SCOUTING
XX. NEARLY CAPTURED
XXI. THE LAST BLOW
XXII. THE SURRENDER
XXIII. COUNT BEULA DISLIKES HANGING
XXIV. THE END OF COUNT BEULA
XXV. IMPRISONED AT ARAD
XXVI. LED OUT TO EXECUTION
XXVII. AN AUSTRO-HUNGARIAN ALLIANCE
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
"THE WHITE-COATS POURED IN THEIR VOLLEY," _Frontispiece_
"I SHOOK MY SWORD AT THE RETREATING FIGURE," _Vignette_
"FROM THE WOODS THEY POURED A HOT MUSKETRY FIRE UPON THE DEFENDERS"
"MY HEART LEAPED TO MY MOUTH AS I SAW STEPHEN FOREMOST"
"GOeRGEI AND HIS STAFF RODE TO THE FRONT, WHERE THE RUSSIAN GENERALS MET
THEM"
THE RED, WHITE, AND GREEN.
CHAPTER I.
_WILL THE REGIMENT MARCH?_
"Cowardly rats, deserting a sinking ship!" exclaimed my brother Stephen;
"I would not raise my little finger to help them!"
"It seems to me this insurrection will do good to our cause."
Stephen pushed his chair back from the breakfast-table, and stood up.
"We are Hungarians," said he, "and we fight for our nation. We want no
assistance from these Austrian rebels. If they care a kreuzer for their
country, why don't they rally round the emperor?"
Laughing at Stephen's expression of disgust, I crossed the room to the
little window, and looked into the street.
It was the morning of October 5, 1848, and still fairly early, yet the
people of Vienna were pouring by in hundreds, all eager, restless, and
apparently too excited to think of such an ordinary thing as breakfast.
Some were mere lads, pale-faced and spectacled, but armed with sword and
pistol, and looking very resolute; these were students from the public
schools and universities. Mingling with these enthusiastic youths were
a few shopkeepers, a more considerable body of respectably-dressed
artisans, numbers of National Guards in uniform, and, most significant
of all, the men from the slums--bare-headed, dirty, gaunt, but carrying
knives, hatchets, clubs, and other death-dealing weapons.
Thus far, this year of 1848 had produced most remarkable changes
throughout Europe.
Louis Philippe, King of the French, had been driven into exile; Sicily
had revolted against King Bomba; insurrections had arisen at Madrid; the
whole of Germany had been, and was, in a state of turmoil; the Prussians
had conquered Poland afresh.
Thrones had crumbled into dust, and monarchs and rulers had been swept
away like chaff before the wrath of the people.
But of all the European countries, none in this wild gale of popular
fury was so severely tried as the proud empire of Austria.
In northern Italy, the veteran Radetzky was upholding the black and
yellow flag of Austria against a host of insurgents; in Bohemia, the
Slavs, bent on founding a great Slav nation, were suppressed with
difficulty by the Austrian general, Prince Windischgratz; my own gallant
land of Hungary had drawn the sword to win back the ancient rights of
which it had been deprived by the Viennese government; while here at
Vienna, in the very heart of the empire, thousands of men were working
their hardest to overthrow their own Kaiser.
With these people neither Stephen nor I had the least sympathy. We were
Hungarians, but royalists, loving our country with a fond and faithful
affection, yet wishful to preserve our loyalty to the emperor-king.
News of the dispute between Hungary and Austria had reached us in
London, and we had just arrived at Vienna on our homeward journey.
My brother Stephen was eighteen years of age, and my senior by twelve
months.
In figure he was tall and elegant; his face was regularly oval, with a
pale complexion; his forehead was high and broad, his mouth small and
well formed. His black hair fell in long curls almost to his shoulders;
he wore a black moustache in the Hungarian fashion; and his eyes were
dark and fiery.
A true Magyar, every inch of him, he might have stood beside King
Stephen of glorious memory.
He came to join me at the little window, and we were still gazing
intently at the throngs below, when some one, hurrying up the stairway,
knocked at the door.
"Come in!" I cried, and turning round added hastily, "Why, it is
Rakoczy, looking as miserable as a caged bird! Are the folks too busy
demonstrating to get you some breakfast?"
The newcomer closed and locked the door, and came over to us.
John Rakoczy, or "John the Joyous," as we called him, was, like
ourselves, a Hungarian, though there was a slight mixture of German
blood in his veins.
He was a handsome man, several years older than myself, with chestnut
hair, dark-blue eyes, and a frank, open, jovial face.
His merry laugh and light-hearted manners had earned him the title of
"John the Joyous;" but on this October morning his face was gloomy and
troubled.
He placed himself between us, so that he could speak to both without
raising his voice.
"Heard the news?" he asked.
"We've heard the row!" I replied. "These poor people will strain their
throats."
"The city's in a state of insurrection. The students and the Nationals
and the Burgher Guards are going to overthrow the government."
"Barking dogs never bite," said Stephen sarcastically.
"These will soon--they're only sharpening their teeth; and the Richters
are to help them."
"The Richter Grenadiers?" I exclaimed.
"Yes. Our fellows have beaten Jellachich, who is in sore straits; and
Latour, the war minister, has ordered the grenadiers to march to his
assistance. They are in a state of mutiny, and the citizens are backing
them up."
Earlier in the year, Croatia, under its Ban or Governor, Baron
Jellachich, had revolted from Hungary; and though at first the emperor
had denounced the rising, he had now taken Jellachich under his
protection.
"Count Latour can take care of himself," said Stephen; "he is a man, not
a lath."
Our companion rubbed his hands together softly, and, lowering his voice
to a whisper, said,--
"This affair is serious. Don't ask how I obtained the information, but
you can rely on its truth. A secret meeting was held last night in the
city. The chiefs of the extreme party were present, and to-morrow, when
the regiment marches out, has been fixed for a general rising."
"This is interesting to the Viennese," said my brother, "but not to us."
"Wait a bit. You know what happened a few days since in Pesth?"
Stephen's face flushed with shame, and I hung my head.
On September 28, Count Lamberg, the Austrian commander-in-chief, had
been seized in the streets of Pesth by an armed rabble, and cruelly put
to death--a foul crime that would long stain the fair name of Hungary.
"To-morrow," Rakoczy continued, "the victim will be Count Latour, and
the butchers will cry, 'Long live Hungary!'"
"What do we want with such brutes?" cried Stephen passionately. "Cannot
we fight and win our battles with our own swords? We shall be disgraced
for ever by this rabble!"
"The count must be put on his guard," I exclaimed. "I will go to his
hotel and inform him of the plot."
"It will be useless trouble," said Stephen. "One man cannot fight
against thirty thousand, and the count is too brave a veteran to yield."
"He must yield or die," said John. "I have learned enough to know that.
The chiefs of the revolution have decided to kill him unless he recalls
the order for the regiment to march."
I put on my hat; the others did the same, and accompanied me into the
street.
A crowd of students rushing by caught sight of our costume, and
surrounding us, cried, "Long live Hungary!"
Much to their surprise, we bared our heads and responded by a hearty,
"Long live King Ferdinand!" for, although our country was at war with
Austria, we remembered that Austria's emperor was Hungary's king.
In the square on the north side of the hotel we stopped, and I gave my
weapons to Stephen, so that the guards might not suspect me of having
any design on the life of the minister.
"Tell him," said Rokoczy earnestly, "that unless he gives way his life
is lost."
I left them standing at the corner of the square, and went on alone to
the courtyard of the hotel.
Hundreds of citizens stood about, all armed and gesticulating violently,
but as yet offering no personal mischief to any one. Several times I
had to stop while they cheered for Hungary and Kossuth; but at length,
after considerable pushing and squeezing, I reached the gate.
There were few soldiers about, and these could certainly have been
overpowered by one determined rush of the mob outside; but the time for
that had not yet come.
At first the officer on duty made some difficulty about passing me; but
at length I was sent under escort across the courtyard, and admitted
into the building.
Here still further delay occurred. Count Latour was busy; he could not
see me; it would be better to call another time, or deliver my message
to the count's secretaries.
Patience, however, is a useful weapon, and by its aid I found myself at
last in the audience-chamber, where the minister was engaged in animated
discussion with his colleagues.
"Well, young sir?" exclaimed the noble-looking veteran sharply. "Your
news must be of extreme importance to justify your persistence."
"You shall judge for yourself, count, if these gentlemen will leave us
for five minutes."
At this the others smiled, and one muttered something about a Magyar
adventurer.
I had entered the room with peace in my heart; but this insult was
abominable, and I loudly demanded to know if they took me for an
assassin.
A little old man with a white beard and small ferret eyes stopped my
high-flown speech by saying, "Remember Lamberg!" and at those words, so
full of meaning, I hung my head in shame.
Would that fatal act be thrown into the teeth of the Magyars for ever?
I think that the count must have pitied me, for he said kindly,--
"What is your name, my young friend? It is needless to ask your
nationality."
The question restored my self-respect, and I raised my head proudly.
"George Botskay has little reason to be ashamed of his name," I said.
"A son of the late General Botskay?"
I bowed in reply, and the count addressed a few words to his colleagues,
who retired one by one with evident reluctance.
"Now, my lad," exclaimed the fine old soldier, "what is it you wish to
say? I am very busy, and cannot spare much time."
"I have come to warn you, count," I began, but at that he stopped me.
"The son of General Botskay should have known that I take no warning
from rebels," he said sternly, and made a movement to ring the bell.
"One moment, count; you must listen to me. I have learned by accident
something you ought to know. The city is up in arms"--Latour
smiled--"and the grenadiers are to be prevented from marching."
"I have issued the order," he said, as if that settled the matter.
"It will not be obeyed. The leaders of the insurrection met last night
in secret, and made their arrangements. A revolution has been decided
on, and you, count, are to be the first victim."
"Why do you tell me this?"
"That you may be prepared."
"Are you on our side?"
"No. I must fight for my own country."
He took a sheet of note-paper from a drawer, and placing it in my hand,
said, "Read!"
It was an anonymous letter, warning him that unless he recalled the
order, the people would put him to death.
"It came this morning," he remarked quietly. "The writer will learn my
answer to-morrow."
Gazing at the well-knit figure and the calm, proud face of the sturdy
veteran, I felt convinced that he would not move a finger to avert the
impending tragedy.
"You seem sorry," he said, "but there is little to grieve about. I am a
soldier, and know how to die at my post. Still, I thank you for trying
to help me; and may the time soon come when Austrians and Hungarians
will once more join hands as brethren and loyal subjects of the
emperor."
"Amen to that!" I replied fervently, and the proud old noble, shaking my
hand, himself led me to the door.
At the head of the stairs I turned and glanced at him again. He waved
his hand cordially; his features were calm and unruffled, his air was
serene, as though he knew nothing of the dangers which threatened him.
Brave old count! After all, he chose the better part!
Rakoczy and my brother waited at the corner of the square, but they saw
at once that my errand had been in vain.
"He will die at his post, if need be," I said, as we got clear of the
crowd.
"What else could he do?" asked Stephen. "You would not expect the
soldier of half a century to run away from the armed rabble."
"Well," exclaimed Rakoczy, "we have done our best to save him; now we
must look to ourselves. I suppose you two intend joining the army?"
"Yes; but we will wait and see what happens to-morrow."
"If you could stay a few days longer, we might all go together."
This proposal suited me capitally; and as Stephen did not wish to lose
the speaker's company, it was agreed that we should remain in Vienna
till the end of the week.
"We aren't likely to miss much," said Rakoczy. "Kossuth can do nothing
till the Honveds have been properly drilled. At present they are no
better than these worthy citizens who shout 'Long live Hungary!' so
abominably."
The Honveds, or Home-Defenders, were practically peasants drawn from the
plough, without drill or discipline, or even knowledge of arms beyond
their scythes and pikes and cumbrous old-world guns.
No general would expect them to stand for an instant against the
Austrian veterans; and, as Goergei, our great leader, humorously said,
he reckoned much more upon their legs than their arms.
However, they were brave fellows at bottom, and those who laughed at
them had reason to repent of it before the war ended.
During the afternoon Rakoczy left us to attend to his private affairs,
so Stephen and I strolled about the city watching the actions of the
excited people.
It was easy to tell that something out of the common was going to
happen; and when we returned to our rooms I felt more sorry than ever
for the brave old count, who so proudly defied the enemies of his
master.
But to help him further was beyond our power; we could only wait and
watch the events of a new day.
It was certain that Latour would not withdraw his order; but whether he
would meet force by force and command Count Auersperg to bombard the
city, or offer himself as a sacrifice to the fury of the mob, we did not
know. From midnight till about three o'clock a dead silence brooded
over the town, but when daylight fairly broke Vienna was in arms.
Rakoczy joined us at breakfast, and by his advice we ate a substantial
meal before venturing out, as the time of our return was very uncertain.
"Now," said he, on rising from the table, "pistols in working order?
There will be a big _kravalle_ before the day's over."
"If it's nothing worse than that, so much the better," I replied. "A
street brawl doesn't hurt."
Stephen locked the door, put the key in his pocket, and we all three
went down into the street, where the people were packed like herrings in
a barrel.
Men, women, and children of all classes were there--the shopkeeper, the
artisan, the labourer, and the dweller in the slums who had come out
expressly for plunder, and who would as soon cut a Hungarian as an
Austrian throat. One of this last class, however, a brawny fellow,
hatless and coatless, with arms bare to the elbow, and carrying a
murderous-looking axe, professed great sympathy with the Magyars, and
attached himself to Stephen, much to the latter's disgust.
John and I walked directly behind, laughing to see my rather fastidious
brother in the society of the _soi-disant_ patriot.
"Keep a brave heart, young sir!" we heard the unwashed one say, "and
trust to us. We'll see you get your rights. Down with the emperor and
up with the people! It's our turn now!" and he put one arm
affectionately round my brother's waist.
"Bravo, comrade!" cried John, winking at me. "The brave Viennese will
take care of Hungary!"
"Right you are, brother!" shouted back the brawny ruffian. "We'll join
hands. Long live Hungary and the Viennese! No more emperors! No more
kings! We'll have a republic and be our own masters!"
"And not do any more work!" said John.
"No; we've had our share. Let the rest take a turn;" and he gave
Stephen another squeeze to show his goodwill.
Happily for my brother's peace of mind, we had by this time reached the
end of the narrow street, and a vigorous push by the crowd parted us
from our enthusiastic friend.
We had started with the intention of going to the hotel of the war
minister, but it soon became plain that we had no choice in the matter;
we were compelled to go wherever the mob carried us.
One thing I noticed which rather astonished me--the National Guards and
the armed students had disappeared. Here and there one certainly caught
sight of a citizen warrior, but they were very few, and I wondered what
had become of the others.
"We shall soon find out," said Rakoczy, to whom I put the question.
"There's mischief brewing somewhere. Listen to, that!" and a great shout
of "Long live the Grenadiers!" rose on the air. The people,
sufficiently excited hitherto, now became frantic. They waved their
arms, and cheered the mutinous regiment wildly.
"Link arms!" exclaimed Rakoczy, and it was well we took his advice. A
tremendous rush nearly took us off our feet, and we were carried along
in the midst of the tumultuous throng.
"Tabor! Tabor!" shouted the crowd. "Make for the bridge of Tabor!
That's where they cross! Hurrah for the Grenadiers! Down with the
emperor! Death to Latour! Long live the brave Hungarians!"
As we approached the bridge of Tabor the excitement became intense. We
were pushed this way and that, and, but for the linking of arms, we must
quickly have lost sight of one another.
"Keep a firm grip," cried John. "Look out! There goes the military!"
and instantly the cheers for the Grenadiers redoubled.
"There's a cavalry regiment escorting them," I exclaimed; "and look!
Some one has brought up a couple of guns!"
"They want twenty," said Stephen. "Ah! now for it!"
At the farther end of the bridge the National Guards and the University
Legion were drawn up in battle array, waiting to oppose the passage of
the troops.
The mob pressed to and fro like the unquiet waves of the sea; now we
were thrown almost bodily into the ranks of the soldiers, again carried
back many yards.
The windows of all the houses anywhere near were filled by groups of
rioters, who levelled their guns ostentatiously at the loyal troops,
while the _sans-culottes_ in the streets roared approval.
At the moment my brother spoke we had a full view of the situation.
The Grenadiers, with their escort, had reached the bridge-head. Behind
them were a body of infantry and the artillerymen with a couple of guns.
An officer in general's uniform commanded the whole.
Suddenly the Grenadiers broke loose, and, with triumphant cries of "Long
live Hungary!" crossed the bridge at the _pas de charge_.
The students and Nationals received them with open arms; the general sat
on horseback, immovable as a bronze statue. Then a smile, half of pity,
half of scorn, appeared on his face. He opened his mouth to give an
order, when, from the farther side of the bridge, rang out a sharp
report, and the Austrian fell dead.
Stephen tore himself from me, his eyes flashing, his handsome face
crimson with anger.
"You cowards!" he cried, and would have run to the bridge had not
Rakoczy dragged him back by main force. Only just in time!
Crash! And a storm of grape whizzed through the air as the gunners
discharged their two pieces.
The insurgents who were advancing to the charge wavered; another dose of
iron hail, and they fell back in disorder.
But the loyalists were few, their enemy legion.
Their brave leader, too, was dead; and, though they fought valiantly for
a time, the end was certain.
The students especially behaved like madmen. Shot and shell tore
through their ranks, making long, narrow gaps, but the survivors pressed
on; the mob picked off the loyalists; the men at the windows shot them
down; the Nationals eagerly backed up their comrades; the bridge was
gained; there was a desperate, confused, hand-to-hand struggle round the
guns, and then a loud shout of victory echoed and re-echoed through the
exultant multitude.
"To the gates! Seize the gates!" they yelled; and presently another cry
rose--one which we had been expecting every moment to hear.
"Death to Latour!" bawled a huge, hairy-throated fellow; and we
recognized our acquaintance of the morning, whose butcher's axe was wet
with blood.
"That's the word!" cried another. "Death to Latour, and no more
ministers!"
"Forward! Forward! Long live the republic! Up with the tricolour!"
"To the hotel!" said Stephen feverishly. "We may yet help to save him."
Alas! if we were powerless in the morning, we were equally so now. The
mob carried us whithersoever it listed. We were flung bodily from side
to side, shot down narrow streets like stones from a catapult, jammed
together without power of movement, then pushed forward again by the
masses in the rear.
Rakoczy soon disappeared. Stephen was yards in front, separated from me
by hundreds of yelling madmen. I was panting and breathless, and felt
as if some one had beaten me well with a stout stick.
A man just before me--a small, pale man with wide-open, frightened
eyes--went down, and was lost in the crowd; it was like dropping a pin.
Had his life been worth the value of the universe, no one could have
saved him; as it was, he simply dropped, like a stone into the water,
and the crowd pressed over him.
To add to the uproar, the tocsin sounded, and everywhere it seemed as if
the soldiers were discharging their muskets.
In one street people were busy erecting a barricade. The head of the
crowd, seeing this, wished to turn back; they might as well have tried
to turn the stars in their course.
The street was narrow and sloping; unfortunately, we shot into it from
the higher end, and there was no stopping.
Those in front raised a cry of despair as they were hurled against the
half-built barricade, the workers on the other side of which ran into
the houses, while the living torrent swept on.
Crash went the structure--logs of wood, bodies of carts, stuffed sacks,
piles of stones, and human beings all mingled together! I caught a
brief glimpse of Stephen wedged into the corner of a doorway, looking as
if he would be squeezed to death, but there was no helping him.
I was off my feet, supported only by the bodies of my nearest
companions, one of whom moaned in pain.
Through the _debris_ we were hurled, swept round the corner to the left,
and dropped, panting and bruised and battered, in the Place of St.
Stephen.