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TALES AND TRADITIONS 
 
 HUNGARY 
 
 THERESA PDLSZKT. 
 
 EBDFIELD, 
 
 CLINTON HALL, NEW YORK. 
 1852. 
 
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1852, 
 
 BY J. S. REDFIELD, 
 
 in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, in and for the 
 Southern District of New York. 
 
HON. GEORGE BANCROFT. 
 
 DEAR SIR, 
 
 I venture to dedicate these TALES AND TRADITIONS OF HUNGARY 
 to the grave Historian of the United States, though they may be too trifling for 
 the earnest Statesman who now performs the noble task of recording the feats 
 and events of a people which, a new Hercules, already in its cradle strangled 
 the two Serpents Despotism and Intolerance. 
 
 But I am sure your sympathy for the cause of Hungary, and the kind interest 
 you bestow on those who suffer and struggle for their country, will excuse 
 that I offer you this volume. 
 
 The TALES AND TRADITIONS OF HUNGARY were published in London last 
 Spring. They met with a success far beyond my expectations. The Review- 
 ers, and amongst them even the stern men of the Examiner and of the Edin- 
 burgh Review, passed a favorable verdict on them, and therefore I feel encou- 
 raged to have them republished here in America. I had added a new Peasant 
 Tale, to give some novel interest to the volume, but in the late fire in Fulton 
 Street the Manuscript, as well as the printed copies, was all destroyed. As 
 I did not keep another copy, I have inserted in its stead The Tradition of the 
 Hungarian Race ; and Mr. REDFIELD is so chivalrous as to think that my like- 
 ness may be of interest to my friends. 
 
 Believe me, 
 Dear Sir, 
 
 Yours sincerely, 
 
 THERESA PULSZKY. 
 
 Cincinnati, Ftb. 16th, 1853, 
 
 M300897 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 INTRODUCTION .....! 
 THE BARON'S DAUGHTER . . 11 
 
 THE CASTLE OF ZTPSEN . . . . .29 
 
 YANOSHIK, THE ROBBER . . . . .62 
 
 THE FREE SHOT . . . . ... 65 
 
 THE GOLDEN CROSS OF KOROSFO . . . .71 
 
 THE GUARDIANS . . . . . .79 
 
 THE LOVE OF THE ANGELS . . . . .85 
 
 THE MAID AND THE GENII ..... 91 
 
 ASHMODAI, THE LAME DEMON . . . .99 
 
 THE NUN OF RAUSCHENBACH . . . .107 
 
 THE CLOISTER OF MANASTTR. . . . ,115 
 
 PAN TWARDOWSKY . . . . . .126 
 
 THE POOR TARTAR ...... 148 
 
 THE. MAIDENS' CASTLE . . . . .151 
 
 THE HAIR OF THE ORPHAN GIRL . . . 166 
 
 THE ROCKS OF LIPNIK . ... . . 186 
 
 JACK, THE HORSE-DEALER . . . * . 213 
 
 KLINGSOHR OF HUNGARY . . . , . 223 
 
 YANOSH, THE HERO. . . . 242 
 
 THE HUNGARIAN OUTLAWS . . . . . 808 
 
 THE TRADITION OF THE HUNGARIAN RACE . . . 829 
 
POPULAR TALES 
 
 TRADITIONS OF HUNGARY, 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 THE poetical genius of a people is expressed 
 in its traditions. They are the inartificial tokens 
 of the riches or the poverty of its imagination. 
 But the unruly play of the imagination is not the 
 only source of tradition. If we retrace its course, 
 we get to the wonderful spring of primitive ideas, 
 where feelings and thoughts, phantasy and under- 
 standing, are not yet separated from one another, 
 and where the first commencements of poetry and 
 
; C 2 ' -r V < e . c ' /INTRODUCTION. 
 
 the science of philosophy and mythology coincide. 
 As we daily see with children, so nations in their 
 
 childhood inquire the cause of every phenomenon, 
 
 * 
 
 and Just as the child rests satisfied with any 
 answer, without examining its correctness -just 
 as the child prefers those explanations which 
 present an image to thoseAvhich inculcate a 
 principle so the people prefer a legend, and 
 little care to investigate the laws of physical 
 nature. 
 
 The analytical understanding develops itself 
 only in the riper age of man and nations ; their 
 childhood is governed by imagination. 
 
 The questions discussed in our times, of 
 astronomy and geology, by the physical sciences 
 and philosophy, were all comprised by the people 
 of antiquity in their mythology, in which they 
 expressed their ideas about divine and human 
 things, the laws of moral and of physical nature. 
 Mythology was to them what the Koran is to 
 the Mohammedans, the book of science and 
 the book of law ; a circumstance, which even at 
 * later periods often stopped scientific research. 
 Herodotus does not venture to unfold the whole 
 
INTRODUCTION. 3 
 
 extent of his knowledge, fearing to hurt the 
 religious feelings of his countrymen ; and Anax- 
 agoras, Diagoras, Socrates, and other philoso- 
 phers of Greece, felt in different degrees the 
 tyrannical jealousy of the popular creed. The 
 intuitive surmise of poetry in the first ages of 
 the world supplies the researches of science. 
 
 But the mist which dims the dawn of science 
 is dispersed at last by its increasing brightness ; 
 critical understanding replaces constructive ima- 
 gination, and the horizon of the people is 
 enlarged. Notwithstanding the many cling to 
 tradition, even when the laws of nature no 
 longer remain hidden to them, and the traces of 
 their former views of life and nature still live 
 in their legends. 
 
 Yet the moral feeling of the people is no less 
 active than its imagination. In consequence, 
 legends and traditions are almost always founded 
 on moral ideas, which impart to them a still 
 greater charm than imagination alone could have 
 endowed them with. 
 
 As traditions are connected with the primi- 
 tive sciences, so are they often founded on the 
 
-'* 
 4 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 popular interpretations of natural or artificial 
 monuments. When the people behold an 
 extensive ruin in the midst of a silent wood, they 
 do not inquire as to its real history to them it 
 is the work of giants or of fairies, and the 
 name of the spot is alone sufficient to create a 
 legend. 
 
 In the pages introduced by these lines, we 
 have attempted to gather Hungarian traditions 
 of manifold kinds. They belong to the different 
 nationalities which inhabit Hungary. 
 
 The greater part of these legends are con- 
 nected with phenomena of nature and explain 
 the origin of the delicate feather-grass, of erratic- 
 blocks, of warm springs, and especially of the 
 characteristical shapes of the chalk-formation. 
 Punishment for the desecration of Sunday is the 
 theme of more than one popular Hungarian tale ; 
 the sinner is almost always transformed into a 
 stone. Isolated chalk-rocks, and the stalactites 
 in the caverns, often resembling human forms 
 from afar, are explained by such tales. But the 
 cruel lord, too, who oppresses his peasants 
 the Dives who wastes bread whilst poor men 
 
INTRODUCTION. 5 
 
 starve at his threshold and the bad step-mother, 
 who compels her step-children to sin, are like- 
 wise transformed into stones. 
 
 The German brothers Grimm first directed 
 public attention to the fact, that many popular 
 tales and proverbs are fragments of ancient 
 mythology. When paganism lost its sway, its 
 reminiscences appeared often disguised as tales ; 
 the more easily so, as the fables of ancient 
 mythology were nothing but the brilliant tissue 
 of phantasy concerning principles of moral and 
 physical existence. The people took the golden 
 veil for the treasure itself, and, even down to 
 our own days, do not easily part with it. 
 
 It is proved, that northern mythology, the 
 worship of "Wodin, Thor, Freya, Suttur, &c., 
 once extended as far as the Teutonic languages 
 are spread. 
 
 The recollections of these gods are not only 
 preserved in the names of days, but re-echo in 
 more than one tale and proverb. Even the 
 Slovak tradition of " Yanoshik" is derived from 
 this source; and it is certainly remarkable to find 
 fragments of Teutonic fables in the tales of a 
 
6 INTRODUCTION-. 
 
 Sclavonic population, which, notoriously had its 
 own mythology totally different from that of the 
 Teutons. There is but one common feature 
 between them, viz., that the representation of 
 the gods and their deeds is wholly unsuited to 
 the plastic arts. In consequence of this, those 
 legends never can become embodied in perma- 
 nent forms, impressing the popular mind so 
 well as the mythology of Southern Europe, or 
 as the Eastern tales, though no less philosophical 
 in their views of life and nature. Their want 
 of well-defined beauty alienates them from our 
 taste. 
 
 Wholly different from those legends and 
 tales, which are connected with definite spots, 
 and therefore confined to the neighbourhood of 
 single localities, we meet with traditions prover- 
 bially known all over the country, such as the 
 " Poor Tartar," or " Pan Twardowski." 
 
 The Jewish tales are of a peculiar stamp; 
 they are derived from the Talmud, and are as 
 typical of Judaism as the unaltered customs of 
 the Jews. 
 
 Some legends scarcely connected with Hun- 
 
INTRODUCTION. 7 
 
 gary, have also been introduced in the following 
 collection ; their poetical merit must plead their 
 cause. 
 
 The legends offered in this volume to * the 
 public, have not been unintentionally grouped 
 in their present order. " The Baron's Daughter," 
 the tale of " The Castle- of Zipsen," and 
 " Yanoshik," show us three distinct phases of 
 Hungarian life in the middle ages. In the first 
 tale we see the contrast of the proud allodial 
 proprietor, disdaining to accept property as fief 
 from a King, with the noblemen attached to the 
 Court. The second sketches the opposition of 
 the knight to the burghers. In the Slovack 
 legend of " Yanoshik," the common robber ap- 
 pears as avenger of social injustice ; at last over- 
 powered by treason, not by the might of the cruel 
 lords. The poetical idea, that Fortune escapes 
 in the very moment when we dream we have 
 caught hold of her that there is a slip between 
 the cup and the lip is expressed in the German 
 tale of " The Free Shot," and is again exhibited 
 in the Slovak story of " The Golden Cross of 
 Korosfo." 
 
8 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The Jewish legend of " The Guardians," and 
 the Persian of " Anahid," picture how foolish is 
 self-conceit, and how easily even the best and the 
 wisest stumble when they brave temptation, 
 instead of avoiding it. 
 
 In contrast with the brilliant colours glisten- 
 ing in these recollections of the East, we see in 
 the German tale of " The Nun of Eaushen- 
 bach,"* the gloomy hue of mediaeval supersti- 
 tion. The legend leaves off with a dissonance : 
 the nun, regretting her vows, and longing to 
 forsake the peace of the nunnery for worldly 
 happiness, cannot escape punishment. Never- 
 theless, our sympathy speaks for ner; we feel 
 that the vows imposed by the veil are un- 
 natural. 
 
 But in the Hungarian tale of " Monastir," 
 the cloister appears as the abode of expiation ; 
 and the story of " Wendelin Drugeth," restored 
 to health on the very spot he had profaned, is 
 a medieval version of the ancient Greek legend 
 
 * The inhabitants of the Carpathian valleys are of 
 German origin. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 9 
 
 of " The Spear of Achilles," the rust of which 
 alone could heal the wounds it inflicted. 
 
 "The Poor Tartar" and "Pan Twardowski" 
 are satires on the domination of unamiable ladies, 
 such as we often meet with in popular tradi- 
 tions. The Polish version of the latter leads us 
 into the realm of magic, which always delights 
 popular imagination. " The Eocks of Lip- 
 nick,' 7 " The Maidens' Castle," and " The Hair of 
 the Orphan Girl," a Hungarian Cinderella, belong 
 to this class, and represent the fairy mythology 
 of Hungary ; and if in "Jack the Horse-dealer," 
 and "Klingsohr," more modern sounds prevail, 
 the reader may excuse it, considering the claims 
 which the present times never can fail to have 
 on our imagination. 
 
 As the butterfly which gleefully flutters 
 around the flower on which he at last rests, 
 opening and closing his wings with slow cadence, 
 is no longer the same when pinned and cas^d 
 up under the glass of a cabinet ; as .the flower 
 pressed between the leaves of a herbarium 
 loses its original colour and fragrance ; thus 
 
 the popular tale too is deprived of its natural 
 1* 
 
10 INTRODUCTION". 
 
 brilliancy and vigour, when repeated far from 
 the country to which it belongs. We have 
 attempted wholly to preserve their genuine 
 purity; how far we have succeeded rests with 
 the reader to 'decide. 
 
THE BAKON'S DAUGHTER 
 
 IN the twelfth century, when Hungary was 
 disturbed by different pretenders to the sacred 
 crown of St. Stephen, a powerful Baron held 
 sway at the castle of Tarko, in the county of 
 Saros. He withheld his homage from all the 
 claimants of the throne, even after one of them 
 had become recognised by the greater part of 
 the realm, though not yet undisputed sovereign 
 all over the country. 
 
 The Lord of Tarko was grown old in sorrow 
 from the early death of his wife, who had left him 
 no son, but one only daughter, Sabina, the sole 
 
12 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 heir of his property, with whom he lived in 
 proud solitude. 
 
 Sabina was lovely, and though no eye but 
 her father's reflected her beauty with fond 
 delight, she felt that she was not born for a 
 lonely existence. Her pulse beat too quick, her 
 imagination was too glowing. The simple occu- 
 pations of the spindle and the needle did not 
 satisfy her ; the pious duties of attending to the 
 poor and the sick in the neighbourhood filled 
 many of her hours, but not her mind. 
 
 She often joined her father in his country sports. 
 The free breeze of the autumnal air, the quick 
 movement of the horses, the risks of the chase, 
 with its varying success, powerfully attracted 
 the young lady, yet by no means could prove 
 lasting charms to a temper longing for more 
 varied objects, for a wider field of exertion. 
 
 When in the afternoon they had turned home- 
 wards with slackened pace, allowing breath to 
 their weary steeds, and the Baron, after a short 
 meal, had retired to rest, Sabina mounted the 
 tower of the castle, and watched the rosy clouds 
 which roamed over the ocean of heaven. She 
 
THE BARON'S DAUGHTER. . 13 
 
 longed to follow them, and to know whither 
 they were sailing?. Might she ever wander as 
 freely ? And should she then be alone ? No ; 
 certainly there would be one to direct her course, 
 to share her thoughts and her feelings. But 
 where was he whom she gladly would follow, 
 and who could lead her to a new world ? And 
 what would that be? No dull abode like her 
 present home, but a paradise of enjoyment, 
 where she would dispense felicity. But where 
 was her guide ? Was he hidden by those 
 mountains, behind which the purple wings of 
 the sun had sunk down in repose? Who 
 could tell where her smiles would be courted, 
 where she should assemble young friends and 
 delight with them in song and in dance ! And 
 she would be admired, and her companion would 
 be proud of her he the most amiable, the 
 most distinguished of all men. To him all 
 would look up : he would possess all hearts, but 
 would care for none but his Sabina's. 
 
 She descended into the gloomy hall where the 
 rows of ancestral portraits alone kept her com- 
 pany. Her reality was colourless and confined. 
 
14 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 The Lord of Tarko never associated with, his 
 neighbours, whom he regarded as his subjects. 
 They kept at respectful distance, and only ven- 
 tured to the manor when a matter was to be 
 decided, which they had failed to settle amongst 
 themselves. Then their haughty but just Lord 
 was appealed to with unlimited confidence. 
 
 To such applications he ever listened with 
 patriarchal solicitude, no less to the requests of 
 the poor and the weak ; but he little heeded 
 what was going on beyond the outskirts of his 
 manor, and turned a deaf ear to the summons 
 of the king, who called the magnates and the 
 bishops to take the oath of allegiance. His 
 passive resistance was noticed at court. "It 
 must be overcome," said the King to his 
 favourite Count Laszlo ; and he charged him to 
 conquer by diplomacy or violence, the prejudices 
 of the self-willed Baron. 
 
 Count Laszlo set out for his castle of 
 Saros, with which he had been invested by the 
 monarch. Here brilliant feasts were given to 
 hundreds of guests. Cavaliers and dames of 
 the whole country around accepted the cordial 
 
THE BAEON'S DAUGHTER. 15 
 
 invitation of the nobleman ; many were the 
 mothers who echoed his praises to daughters 
 nowise indisposed to listen with due attention. 
 
 Never before had the stony path leading up 
 to the conical summit crowned by the castle 
 been enlivened with more horses, never had it 
 resounded with more cheers, never had the bushes 
 and trees sheltering the height hidden more 
 whispers of love, more sighs and more blushes, 
 than since Laszlo assembled the nobles of Saros 
 to glee and enjoyment, and to loyal remembrance 
 of their victorious King, whom they boisterously 
 celebrated with uplifted tumblers filled to the 
 brim. 
 
 But the loud chorus was not joined by the 
 Lord of Tarko, who declined for himself and his 
 daughter to appear at his neighbour's, though 
 entreated by most special request, to grant the 
 favour of his welcome presence. 
 
 Count Laszlo had set out to try his eloquence 
 on the pride of the old nobleman. The Lord of 
 Tarko had received him with dignity, and 
 politely listened to the enthusiastic panegyrics 
 of the young man, enumerating the bounties 
 
16 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 his gracious King offered to all faithful sub- 
 jects. 
 
 To this the Baron coldly answered : " That 
 he always lived retired on his estate, which since 
 the time of the division under Arpad* had been 
 in his family, and that none of them had ever 
 
 * The original title of property in Hungary was not 
 feudal. The first conquerors of the country, under 
 Arpad, divided it at the Diet, which they held on the 
 puszta (heath) Szer, and possessed their landed property 
 by the right of its first conquest. But the Kings gradually 
 sought to transform these free allodial properties into fiefs. 
 The same occurred in Germany, where, in the time of 
 Frederic Barbarossa, we meet a knight on the Rhine 
 who received his Emperor without rising from his seat, 
 having, as he said, his castle as fief from the Sun alone, 
 not from the Emperor. That the chronicler has found 
 this fact remarkable enough to be recorded, is a proof 
 that allodial property was already at that era exceptional 
 in Germany. In Hungary, the theory that all property 
 is derived from the Crown was established much later, 
 not earlier than in the fourteenth century. Down to our 
 days there exist Hungarian families who derive their 
 landed property from that first division (for example, the 
 Szemeres), and who are proud not to owe their estates to a 
 royal grant. 
 
THE BARON'S DAUGHTER. 17 
 
 accepted their domain as a fief from any King, 
 but had always protected and defended it with- 
 out aid. And I, following the example of my 
 illustrious fore-fathers," the Baron continued, 
 " crave for no more than the liberty of not bow- 
 ing in homage to a Prince, whose claims are 
 still contested. Legitimacy can confer the right 
 to the sacred crown of St. Stephen* only if 
 recognised by the whole Hungarian nation." 
 
 While he spoke, Sabina entered the room. 
 Count Laszlo beheld her and dropped all contro- 
 versy. He saw her, and forgot what purpose 
 had led him to the castle of Tarko. He listened 
 to the tuneful voice of the maiden, and felt it 
 vibrate in his heart. At last she rose, kissed 
 her father's hand, and gracefully inclined her 
 head to the stranger : and only when she had 
 left the room, did Count Laszlo notice that time 
 had fled, and that he must depart. 
 
 * Under the house of Arpad, the succession to the 
 throne was not precisely defined by the law: the brother 
 often succeeded instead of the son. The law granted the 
 crown to the family of Arpad, but did not further determine 
 the order of succession. 
 
18 POPULAK TALES OF HUNGAKY. 
 
 He came again, though, the Baron had not 
 returned his visit. When the King's favourite 
 repeated his call at Tarko, the gates were closed, 
 the Baron had ridden out to hunt a boar. Count 
 Laszlo tried again, but with no greater luck ; the 
 Baron was always out. But where was she, for 
 whose very shadow the eye of the Count anxi- 
 ously spied every window. The cavalier sprang 
 from his steed, and took a walk all around the 
 terrace, to admire the varied view over hill and 
 dale. His glance, however, did not wander over 
 the green landscape ; the soil alone on which he 
 trod, seemed to attract his attention. The 
 traces of a small foot had caught his eye, but 
 they were soon lost in the grass, where the light 
 step left no print. 
 
 "Whilst thus he had waited to no purpose, and 
 then impatiently returned homewards, Sabina 
 was standing on the height of the tower ; but 
 this time not to watch Ihe clouds above her, but 
 she looked down and regretted that no cloud of 
 dust appeared, raised by the hoofs of horses. 
 She waited long and thought : Shall I go down 
 and inquire if the Count has any message for 
 
THE BARON'S DAUGHTER. 19 
 
 my father ? But my father must soon return ; 
 I had better not go. Yet is it not unkind to 
 leave a stranger by himself in the hall ? 
 
 And she descended some steps and bent down 
 her ear, but had not reached the terrace, before 
 she changed her mind and went up again. He 
 had just past, she saw the raised dust, amidst 
 which sparkled the golden tassels of the retinue. 
 The bugle presently blew from the opposite direc- 
 tion ; she hastened to her apartment to compose 
 herself before she met her father. He kissed her 
 brow as was his wont, inquiring how she had 
 spent her day. She blushed, as if she had a 
 mystery to hide. 
 
 The Baron frowned slightly, and turned the 
 conversation on the versatility of the present 
 days, the vanity of youths, and the instability 
 of kings. Sabina listened most devotedly, but 
 ventured the remark, that certainly some per- 
 sons were exceptions, not blinded by transient 
 splendour, but solely acted on by conviction 
 and loyalty. Her sire made no reply, but gave 
 strict orders not to admit any stranger to the 
 manor. 
 
20 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 Count Laszlo now had recourse to artifice. 
 He sent Ms faithful shield-bearer, Gergely, to 
 Tarko, who went there as if in want of service. 
 His countenance spoke so well for him, that the 
 Baron engaged him as groom, and little thought 
 that he thus introduced into his own house the 
 messenger of love. 
 
 Sabina, though by far more inexperienced 
 than her father, had a better memory, and 
 remembered the young man, who had ridden 
 behind his master, when she had peeped from 
 the balcony, and perceived him. She therefore 
 was not overpowered with surprise, when she 
 mounted her palfrey, to find a small strip of 
 vellum twisted round the -reins. She felt that 
 to take it, would be to acquiesce in clandestine 
 correspondence ; yet could she leave it there, 
 and risk detection, when presently her father 
 would join her? She could not risk his anger 
 no, no : she slipped the note under her 
 glove, before her sire came down. The ride 
 was long, so thought Sabina, and chid her well- 
 trained pacer, who stumbled, quite against his cus- 
 tom, as the Baron with great displeasure noticed. 
 
THE BARON'S DAUGHTER. 21 
 
 When everybody % was asleep in tne manor, 
 and all lights were extinguished, one yet faintly 
 glimmered in the wing inhabited by Sabina. 
 She sat up and studied very hard to decipher 
 some clearly -traced words. What they were, I 
 cannot say ; but they must have been very hard 
 to understand, as she read them over and over 
 again, till her lamp was almost extinguished. 
 She then laid the strip under her pillow, on 
 which she leant sleepless for hours, until the 
 claims of nature proved more powerful than her 
 excited thoughts. 
 
 With the first ray of the morning, she woke 
 again, to resume the interesting perusal, which 
 she hardly left for an instant, till the bell sum- 
 moned to mass. From that time she practised 
 writing more than she had ever done : she was 
 no artist in that line; her fingers knew better 
 how to move the strings of the harpsichord 
 than to handle the pen ; yet certainly her most 
 touching strains never proved so effectual as the 
 imperfect words she traced. They were an- 
 swered with glowing expressions of love and 
 of hope. 
 
22 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 One Sunday morning the Prior of the Fran- 
 ciscan cloister of Saros entered the hall of 
 Tarko Castle. A short conversation ensued 
 between the friar and the Baron, tte-d-t@te, 
 who accompanied his guest to his threshold, 
 bowed stiffly, retired to the house, and never 
 uttered a word to Sabina, though she anxiously 
 watched her father's countenance. 
 
 Sabina complained of headache, and sought 
 her lonely room. She knew the Prior had 
 come, in the name of Count Laszlo, to sue for 
 her hand. She could not doubt that her father 
 had refused. 
 
 The next morning, when she followed him in 
 their usual ride, the Baron was more eloquent 
 than usual. lie discoursed about the arrogance 
 . of the Court-people, who, without any patrimony, 
 any property but the fickle favours dispensed by 
 the King, think they might aspire to connect 
 themselves with independent families, to whom 
 royal favour is wholly superfluous, and even with 
 such as descend from the ancient Dukes, the 
 equals of Arpad elevated to the throne by their 
 free choice only. 
 
THE BARON'S DAUGHTEK. 23 
 
 " Titles and fortune granted by one King, 
 can be cancelled by another," continued the old 
 man ; " and if the Castle of Saros is larger in 
 extent than ours, still Saros is but a fief for 
 life, being the residence of the Lord- Lieutenant 
 of the county; whilst Tarko, though smaller, 
 has been raised by our ancestors, whose names 
 no King can obliterate, and whose property does 
 not depend on royal favour." 
 
 Sabina loved her father; she had no argu- 
 ments to oppose his views, she answered there- 
 fore with tears only, and these the old Baron 
 did not heed: he knew that as in spring rain 
 and sunshine alternate every day, so in youth 
 do tears and smiles. 
 
 When the Prior returned from Tarko, he 
 met Count Laszlo, on horseback, half-way to 
 Saros. 
 
 " What tidings, holy father ?" cried he : " how 
 were you treated? was a turkey served up to 
 you, or a farrow ?"* 
 
 * We meet in Hungary with ancient symbolical cus- 
 toms, such as were generally practised in the middle 
 ages all over Europe, and still are usual in the East. 
 
24 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 Thfj Prior shook his head : " The pride of 
 the old Lord is more lofty than your castle. 
 
 Many a thing which would be reluctantly expressed with 
 words is notified by a symbol, conveying the meaning 
 without any further unpleasant explanation. When, for 
 example, a young man presents himself as suitor in a 
 house where there is a young lady, he knows at the very 
 first dinner, whether or no he may look forward to the 
 fulfilment of his wishes. If a roasted turkey appears on 
 the dinner-table, it means that he is welcome; but when 
 this good-omened bird is substituted by a* farrow, the 
 suitor well may pack up and drive home; the bride will 
 not be his : he is refused. No other roast meat is so sym- 
 bolical as the turkey and the farrow. When any other 
 appears at dinner, the suitor may try his luck ; he is 
 neither accepted nor rejected, and may wait until a turkey 
 or a farrow announces his decree. 
 
 This custom is to be found among all classes in Hun- 
 gary. 
 
 A widow lady well known to me, had been for 
 several months betrothed to an officer, who of course 
 often visited the house of her parents, with whom she 
 lived. Once a farrow chanced to be served up ; where- 
 upon the suitor got uneasy, and a serious explanation 
 ensued with the family of the lady, before he could be per- 
 suaded that the farrow had not been intended to cany 
 any meaning. 
 
25 
 
 He dines only with his equals ; with his daugh- 
 ter alone, with no one else in the county. He 
 declines the honour of your connection." 
 
 "Thus they have been from the times of 
 Arpad,"Laszl6 violently interrupted. " Thus 
 they are still, these proud chieftains. Are they 
 blind, not to see the halo which surrounds the 
 sacred crown of St. Stephen? Do they not 
 know that our gracious Sovereign is resolved not 
 to tolerate their haughtiness? that he has 
 burned the seats round his throne in the coun- 
 cil-hall of the palace, that no one should sit at 
 his side ? Do they forget that we are no longer 
 the .barbarians led by Arpad, able to conquer 
 a realm, but laughed at by the civilized world 
 for want of breeding ? We have learned from 
 the accomplished Greeks, and from the valiant 
 knights of Germany, that all power comes from 
 the King, and that the only source of property 
 is the Crown. Our Sovereign will not bear 
 that any of his subjects should have a property 
 not confirmed by a charter. The King alone 
 protects the country the King alone can grant 
 property. Until now I have sued where I 
 
26 .. OPULAR TALES OF HUNGAKY. 
 
 might have used violence, as the King gave 
 me the order to enforce the homage due to him. 
 The haughty Lord boasts that never one of 
 his stem has bowed ! Well ! but a branch of 
 this stem may be rent, and then we shall see 1" 
 
 That very night Grergely came to Saros, as he 
 was often wont to do. Count Laszlo closeted 
 himself up with him, a plan was conceived. 
 
 A few days afterwards, Sabina again accom- 
 panied her father to hunt. Grergely led the 
 party over most difficult paths, and cheered the 
 hounds on the scent of the boar. The sport 
 was prolonged beyond the customary time, till 
 the horses were so exhausted, that neither spur 
 nor halloo could urge them on. It was dusk, 
 when they approached the hill of Tarko Castle. 
 Gergely kept close to Sabina, who was some 
 paces in advance. A by-path diverged at the 
 foot of the hill, where stood a light car with 
 four neighing horses. Sabina resolutely sprang 
 into the carriage, assisted by the coachman, who 
 had given up the reins to Gergely. An instant, 
 and the voluntary prey was carried off in full 
 gallop. Before long the old Baron under- 
 
. THE BARON'S DAUGHTER. 27 
 
 stood what had happened, and powerfully spurred 
 his steed ; but it was spent in wind and strength, 
 and could not reach the fugitives, who had just 
 turned round the corner of the mountain ; yet 
 his master continued to pursue them with 
 unabated determination. 
 
 Laszlo rode out to meet his lady fair. When 
 Gergely perceived him in the distance, below 
 the Castle of Saros, the faithful shield-bearer 
 beckoned in joyful ecstacy with uplifted hand. 
 In that very moment, the Lord of Tarko had 
 bent his bow, and the arrow hit the raised arm. 
 Count Laszlo hastened to the support of Ger- 
 gely, and a few minutes afterwards held his bride 
 in his arms. 
 
 To commemorate the spot from whence 
 he had first caught * sight of his Sabina, he 
 founded there a town, to which, in honour 
 of his consort, he gave the name of Sabinow 
 (Cibinum, Szeben). And the place, where the 
 arm of Gergely was pierced, was solemnly con- 
 ferred on this devoted attendant, who built on 
 this ground the village of Gergely-lak (the 
 house of Gergely). He was knighted by the 
 
28 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 King, and his descendants bore in their escut- 
 cheon the arrow-pierced arm of their ancestor. 
 
 Count Laszlo, after his marriage with Sabina, 
 sought to reconcile her father ; but the Lord of 
 Tarko replied that the wife of the Lord-Lieu- 
 tenant of Saros was a stranger to him. He 
 never saw her again. 
 
 She found at Court all the delights she had 
 longed for. The most dazzling honours were 
 bestowed upon her ; life passed in a whirl of 
 pleasures, yet Tarko Castle came sometimes back 
 to her mind, and a sigh then escaped her. 
 
THE CASTLE OF ZIPSEK 
 
 IF we wander from Saros to Zipsen, and 
 reach the height of the Braniszko stormed so 
 bravely during the last war by the lion-hearted 
 Guyon an extensive valley opens to our view. 
 Many small towns people the landscape, and 
 remind us that manifold intercourse and lucra- 
 tive trade enriched those parts in by-gone 
 days. 
 
 In the distance, we see the snowy peaks of 
 the Carpathians, and the group of the Tatra- 
 Mountains, which border the horizon. 
 
 In the foreground rises a steep rock, on 
 which stand the ruins of the " House of Zip- 
 
30 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 sen," the ancestral Castle of the Zapolyas, 
 who, in one century (fifteenth and sixteenth), 
 raised themselves from the soil they cultivated 
 with their own hands, to the throne of Hungary 
 and Transylvania. 
 
 Not far from the deserted ruin, on its right 
 side, is the small town of Kirchdrauf, once of 
 greater importance than at present.' Now, it 
 more resembles a wealthy village than a town ; 
 though the smooth hill, which forms the back- 
 ground, is still adorned by the Gothic Cathedral, 
 and by the residence of the Bishop of Zipsen, 
 and his canons. 
 
 In this neighbourhood, as in all parts where 
 the ancient knights dwelt in their castles near 
 to towns, and exacted contributions from the 
 peaceful inhabitants, popular tradition remem- 
 bers the overbearing insolence of the lawless 
 chiefs. 
 
 We distinguish at the ruin one window, just 
 overlooking the most abrupt of the precipices, 
 which rises perpendicularly several hundred feet 
 high over the plain. With that window tradi- 
 tion connects a tale. 
 
THE CASTLE OF ZIPSEN. 31 
 
 In the time of King Charles Eobert, the 
 Lord of the House of Zipsen led a wild life. 
 During summer he hunted the bear, in winter 
 the wolves. His nights used to be spent in 
 drinking and gambling : the bottles on the 
 table were removed only for the dice, and the 
 morning found him and his companions often 
 senseless on the ground. His resources, of 
 course, could not long endure such a life. He 
 regretted the periods of civil dissensions, where 
 a strong fist, and a sharp sword, could win 
 wealth and renown ; when the princes con- 
 tended for the crown, the knights used the 
 moment to fill their purses. But these bright 
 days were gone: trade and industry flourished, 
 and the stout burghers throve under laws which 
 protected the peaceable occupations of cowards, 
 instead of kindling the noble passions of war. 
 Our Knight bitterly lamented these inglorious 
 days, and his device was : 
 
 " Let commerce perish, manufactures die, 
 But Heaven defend our old nobility.'* 
 
 What could he do ? Live he must ; rob he 
 
32 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 could not; so lie borrowed. The old friar 
 who had taught him in his boyhood had 
 often explained to him that men were sur- 
 passed by the bee in skill, and by the dog in 
 loyalty, by the ant in industry, by the ele- 
 phant in strength, and by the ape in nimble 
 mimicry ; the parrot learns to speak, and 
 the bull bows under the yoke no less than 
 man. What, then, proves the superiority of 
 man what marks his difference from the 
 beasts ? Nothing else than that he may be 
 taught to borrow. The exclusive prerogative 
 of man is to incur debts. The friar was looked 
 up to by his friends as a learned man, and he 
 often used to say to those who attentively 
 listened to him : " A day will come when the 
 truth of this distinction will generally be 
 acknowledged, when civilization will be tested 
 by the use the nations make of this greatest 
 human prerogative their CREDIT ; when the 
 communities which have no debt will be called 
 barbarians, and those will be the most powerful 
 rulers of mankind, the missionaries to carry 
 civilization all over the world, who have the 
 
THE CASTLE OF ZIPSEN. 33 
 
 . largest National Debt ; though there will always 
 be narrow-minded fools to preach financial re- 
 form, unaware of the constitution of mankind, 
 and of their glorious privilege." 
 
 These precepts the Knight never had for- 
 gotten ; and in spite of his thorough contempt 
 of the burghers, he often deigned to accept 
 their money, mortgaging his estates. As for 
 the interest, he paid it by the labour of his 
 peasants, who were forced, instead of tilling the 
 ground, to weave at the looms for the traders of 
 Kirchdrauf, and to manufacture the well-known 
 linen of Zipsen. 
 
 It was such money-dealing business which 
 one fine morning brought our Knight down to 
 the town. He called on the worshipful Chair- 
 man of the Guild of Tailors, with the intention 
 of negotiating a new loan. He introduced him- 
 self by ordering a magnificent suit of clothes, to 
 go to court, as he pretended, to which the King 
 had summoned him. Whilst the said artist 
 applied his slip of paper to the broad chest of 
 the cavalier, taking the accurate measure, the 
 
 Knight complained of bad times. He found 
 2* 
 
34 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 that agriculture had no protection ; that in spite 
 of that exemption from taxes, which was the 
 first privilege of nobility, land was burdened 
 too heavily, as landed property implied the 
 support of the peasants, who could not work if 
 they were starving and as a nobleman must 
 live in an expensive style, if he would maintain 
 his position in the world, and ensure the respect 
 due to his name, he is unavoidably always short 
 of money. His younger brothers and relations 
 cannot become traders : this would disgrace the 
 family. What shall they do, whilst the King 
 is not inclined to war, and therefore needs no 
 army ? He was just on the point of entering 
 upon the question, for which he had honoured 
 the plebeian house with his presence, when a 
 buxom girl entered the room, and with a slight 
 courtesy handed patterns of velvet to the knight 
 for selection. It was the youthful daughter, 
 the heiress apparent, of the wealthy tailor. A 
 bright idea struck the Knight. The best 
 improvement of his estates would certainly be 
 a lucrative marriage. As for the daughters of 
 his noble neighbours, they had repeatedly refused 
 
THE CASTLE OF ZIPSEN. 35 
 
 his suit ; they might have excused his reckless 
 life, but his debts were unpardonable. The 
 daughter of a tailor must be less fastidious, 
 and would certainly esteem herself blessed to 
 get a coronet, even when its brilliancy was a 
 little dimmed. He therefore dropped the topic 
 of the hardships of landed property, turned the 
 conversation to the pleasures of the capital, and 
 did not fail to remark that none of the ladies 
 at Court could vie in beauty with the pride of 
 Kirchdrauf. 
 
 The tailor silently listened, and wondered 
 what could induce his guest to such speeches, 
 and such a change in his mode of life ; for it 
 was well known, that the Knight always kept 
 to his castle, and had never sought the Court. 
 The daughter paid no attention whatever to the 
 conversation, and cared not for the gallantries 
 of the Knight. His grizzly beard and red nose 
 undid with her the effect of his unusual elo- 
 quence. She put the patterns on the table, 
 and left the room. The unwieldy Knight had 
 no charm for her : her head and her heart were 
 occupied by the accomplishments of a nimble 
 
36 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 barber, styled Doctor by the whole town, who 
 had just returned from the high school of 
 Vienna. He wore no moustachios, his chin was 
 smoothly shaved, his hair elegantly curled. 
 His was not the heavy step of the- burghers, 
 but he danced through the streets on tiptoe ; 
 and how he could talk! He knew the whole 
 world, and was the friend of all the great men 
 of Germany ; he had cut the corns of the 
 Emperor, and had bled the lap-dog of the Queen 
 of Bohemia. What were the words of the 
 Queen, which she spoke in low accents, when 
 she handed to him a diamond ring in token of 
 her gratitude : this he only hinted. As to the 
 ring, and the other bounties he had received at 
 the different Courts w r here he had practised his 
 arts, alas ! he had been robbed of all by violence 
 and deceit, and had returned home as poor as 
 he had left it. The worshipful tailor often 
 said: "It is all humbug!" but Graspar, the 
 barber, harangued so winningly, that no one of 
 the fair sex doubted the accuracy of his asser- 
 tions. In spite of this the cruel tailor was not to 
 be moved ; he would not give his daughter to a 
 
THE CASTLE OF ZIPSEN. 87 
 
 penniless quack, as he unhesitatingly called the 
 young suitor; and the rosy-cheeked Trude 
 sighed, and contented herself to meet her lover in 
 secret. 
 
 A few days after the Knight's visit at the 
 house of the tailor, Trude, who sat sewing at 
 the window, not wholly intent on her needle, 
 saw a cavalcade that made her jump from her 
 seat, and call all the females of the household to 
 peep out with her. Our Knight approached in 
 costly attire on a high steed, and followed not 
 only by his customary retinue, but by a long 
 range of attendants, all wearing his colours, 
 though some of their tasseled jackets, pelisses 
 and fringed boots bore so visible traces of the 
 destructive power of time, that they had a most 
 pitiful aspect. 
 
 Trude did not fail to point her finger at seve- 
 ral of them, and to exclaim in accents half 
 choked with laughing: "Look, look, that's 
 Janos, from whom we bought our corn, this 
 Misa and Gyorgy, with whom we had the^bother 
 about the hay. What jades they ride ! Poor 
 animals, hard work and little food ; and now 
 
38 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 they must dance about in a masquerade ; it is 
 their first carnival, I dare say." 
 
 Meanwhile the cavalcade had come to the 
 door. The Knight beckoned his squire to hold 
 the reins of his horse, and alighted with dignity. 
 The apprentices of the tailor looked very 
 astonished, and hastened to the house-door to 
 open it, and to pass in review the horses and 
 riders. The Knight pushed them aside, and 
 went immediately to the room where the wor- 
 shipful chairman of the tailors, the great capi- 
 talist of Kirchdrauf, sat at the table ; but 
 scarcely had the knight closed the door, when it 
 was slowly opened again, and a sprightly face 
 witnessed the scene between the Knight and the 
 tailor. 
 
 The latter moved his chair, rose, rubbed his 
 eyes, and said: " Monday, next week, was the 
 appointed day, my Lord, for the clothes to be 
 ready : you mistook : to-day is but Wednesday." 
 
 The Knight coughed, took a seat, indulgingly 
 beckcgaed the tailor to do the same, and began 
 with hoarse but raised accents : 
 
 "I am not come to enforce your prompt 
 
THE CASTLE OF ZIPSEN. 39 
 
 service, but to grant you an honour you little 
 expect. Your daughter is pretty, and I under- 
 stand, well brought up to mind all kind of 
 household affairs. I want some one to attend 
 mine, and as I owe to my station decorum and 
 decency, I will take your daughter as my wife, 
 that she may reside in my castle and manage it 
 well. Do not interrupt me," he continued, as 
 the tailor bowed, and was going to speak : " do 
 not interrupt me, I have more to say. I under- 
 stand and appreciate the feelings of a father for 
 his only child ; such feelings are respectable in 
 every station, and would not deprive you for 
 ever of the claims nature has given to every 
 parent. I, of course, expect that Gertrude, 
 once my wife, will keep to my manor, and not 
 descend to her plebeian connexions ; but for your- 
 self I allow an exception, in so far that you may 
 come to see her as often as you please ; the 
 times when we receive company always excepted. 
 Her room, of course, will ever be open to you, 
 even if you can get no access teethe baronial 
 hall. Call\er in now, that she may hear what 
 awaits her, and prepare for her happiness." 
 
40 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 During the whole speech of the Knight, the 
 tailor fretted on his chair. It was an awful 
 revelation to him ; he knew perfectly, that the 
 estates of the Knight must be heavily encum- 
 bered to induce him to such a step, and became 
 seriously alarmed about the amount he had lent 
 him. He remained silent for a little while, and 
 hesitatingly began : 
 
 " My Lord, that will not do for us ; my 
 daughter " 
 
 1 'Will answer for herself." 
 
 Trude completed the sentence, pushing wide 
 open the door, and laughing aloud : 
 
 "No, your honour, I thank you, you are 
 nothing for me ; I have other fancies ; nothing 
 like you would suit me. I am a silly girl ; I 
 have no ambition to preside at your table, and 
 to listen to the conversation of your illustrious 
 guests, who care more about sport and gambling 
 than about polished manners. I should badly 
 manage your castle without a penny in the chest, 
 and my fortune is not a noble one : it is not accus- 
 tomed to be paying interests on loans. 77 
 
 The Knight had remained perplexed with 
 
THE CASTLE OF ZIPSEtf. 41 
 
 surprise ; he had instinctively risen when Trude 
 entered the room ; but now he held fast by the 
 chair, trembled with rage, struck the table with 
 his clenched fist, and roared : 
 
 " Thou impertinent hussy, I will teach thee 
 manners ; you shall remember this hour, and 
 repent your folly, you and your blockheaded 
 father! After to-morrow I expect my pelisse 
 and my coat ; it must fit well, mind," he added 
 with perfect contempt. 
 
 He left the house with dignity, but he felt 
 that he had made himself the laughing-stock of 
 Kirchdrauf. When he determined to propose 
 for the daughter of the tailor, the possibility of 
 a refusal had never crossed his mind. How 
 could he have thought that the child of a burgher 
 could remain insensible to the honour of a noble 
 alliance ? Contemptible as he always had held 
 the traders to be, yet he had given them credit 
 for being most anxious to be honoured by a look, 
 by a word from a cavalier ; and if they did not 
 seek any intercourse with him, he had always 
 taken it for a necessary consequence of the awe 
 and respect, which his station inspired. 
 
42 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 The display lie had made of his liveries, was 
 too extraordinary an event, not to manifest the 
 * intention which he now gladly would have denied. 
 And how could he stop the gossip of the imper- 
 tinent Trude, who, without doubt, would boast 
 of the unpleasant history, exaggerating the 
 humiliation he had experienced. 
 
 Gertrude, in fact, notwithstanding her pert 
 refusal, was highly flattered by the proposal ; 
 and though she pretended to have a perfect 
 horror of such a scarecrow , over head and ears 
 in debt ; yet she did not take it amiss, when 
 her friends jokingly addressed her as " Lady 
 Gertrude," and tSte-d-tete with Doctor Caspar, 
 she more than once mentioned, "But for you, 
 silly man, I might be a Lady. The Knight has 
 taste and passions ; these are innate to aristocrati- 
 cal temper; they cannot be acquired; they are 
 the natural privileges of high birth/' 
 
 " No doubt," the amiable barber replied ; " I 
 know that best, who have ever lived at Courts 
 with the most distinguished nobles. But believe 
 me, love, who am a man of the world, aristo- 
 cracy is not worth my lancet, if it has not the 
 
THE CASTLE OF ZIPSEN. 43 
 
 polish of fashion, and elegance of manners. We, 
 the new generation, who have seen foreign 
 countries, we know that best." And he tossed 
 up his head and looked most superior, so that 
 Trude certainly thought herself a fortunate girl. 
 The Knight had sworn revenge, and he was 
 the man to keep his word, except in matters 
 unsuitable to his dignity, as money-promises, 
 for example. He would capture the saucj^ 
 lass, and fling her away like a payable bill, 
 presented by an importunate creditor. His 
 guests applauded this laudable intention, and 
 freely offered their offensive and defensive 
 support. But within the walls of the town they 
 had no power, nor did they dare to attack 
 where the gates could be shut upon them. 
 But the men of the Knight daily spied around 
 Kirchdrauf, to find out whether the proud 
 daughter of the tailor was venturing out. She 
 often ran away from household cares and house- 
 hold work ; but then she spent her leisure hours 
 not out of town, but at the house of some kind 
 neighbour, where she met her friend, who 
 in the evening saw her safe home, whilst the 
 
44 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. . 
 
 worshipful chairman presided at the meetings 
 of his guild, or held private consultations with 
 its most distinguished members. 
 
 Weeks had passed ; the event of the Knight 
 and the tailor had become hacknied ; its charm 
 of novelty had worn out, and it was but in 
 flattery to the pretty Trude that it was yet 
 mentioned. The threats of the Knight were 
 not heeded. How would he venture to attack 
 the daughter of a man who was on the eve of 
 becoming Mayor, when he would have at com- 
 mand the forces of a town, not indeed large by 
 itself, but powerful by its confederation with all 
 the other towns of the county, fifteen in number. 
 
 Autumn had come, not with the pleasures of 
 vintage in the cold climate of these northern 
 parts, but with the amusement of gathering 
 nuts, pears, and apples, in the orchards. The 
 young folks of Kirchdrauf, too, set out, armed 
 with long poles, to beat down the nuts from the 
 trees, and carry them off, with the pears and 
 apples, in baskets taken for the purpose. 
 
 The wealthy tailor had a garden a little way 
 from town. Thither Trude went with her ser- 
 
THE CASTLE OF ZIPSEN. 45 
 
 vant and the apprentice boys. She would have 
 no other company, she said, as the weather grew 
 uncertain, and haste was necessary to get the 
 fruit in before dusk. 
 
 The afternoon was fine ; and when the work 
 was done, Trude had filled the baskets, and 
 loaded the car, to be drawn home by the appren- 
 tice boys, by whom she sent the message, that 
 she and the servant would shortly follow. She 
 set out, but the Doctor chanced to meet her on 
 the road, and reminded her that she might catch 
 cold. Indeed, she had forgotten her cloak in 
 the orchard, and felt very chilly. The Doctor 
 said he would run for it, but she thought it 
 would be dangerous for her health to sit down 
 waiting, after she had got warm by the walk. 
 
 " Yes, that positively might be dangerous," 
 said the Doctor. 
 
 " Well," interposed Gertrude, " I will fetch 
 my mantle myself: do you meanwhile go home, 
 Hancsa, my life, to look after the supper, that it 
 may be ready when father comes in. I will 
 join you before he comes." 
 
 The happy pair were left to each other, and 
 
46 POPULAK TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 strolled back to the garden ; but Trade got very 
 tired, when they were returning. They sat 
 down, continuing an animated conversation, 
 which made them totally unaware that the place 
 of their rest was discovered by the spies of the 
 Knight, who no sooner got sight of the luckless 
 lovers, than they burst forth, and captured the 
 girl, without taking notice of the Doctor, who 
 most prudently made no attempt to resist, but 
 ran away for succour, when he noticed the 
 superior forces of the adversaries. Before 
 he could return, Trude had been carried into the 
 Castle. 
 
 She was brought to the Knight, in the great 
 room, where the window overlooked the whole 
 country. He bitterly reproached her with in- 
 gratitude, but promised her forgiveness, if she 
 instantly would follow him to the chapel ; if 
 not, he would use violence. The girl refused 
 the robber the thief, as she called him ; pushed 
 him vigorously aside, and rushed to the window 
 to look out for rescue. She saw no chance of 
 aid. The Knight opened the door, and cried 
 out: 
 
THE CASTLE OF ZIPSEN. 47 
 
 " Come, friends, and see my betrothed. John, 
 you shall be my bridesman. Take her to the 
 chapel ; the friar expects us." 
 
 He then turned round to catch hold of the 
 girl, but before he could make good his purpose, 
 she had swung herself on the window, and, with 
 desperate resolution, threw herself from the 
 dizzy height. 
 
 The Knight and his guests were appalled ; 
 they thought her dead, but her spreading gar- 
 ments formed a parachute, and deadened the 
 violence of the fall; so that she reached the 
 ground without other injury than the dislocation 
 of the great toe of her right foot. She remained 
 prostrate, deprived of her senses. 
 
 Meanwhile, the brave Doctor had returned 
 protected by all the haidus* and by all the 
 younger members of the Tailors' Company, 
 armed to the teeth, and followed in due distance 
 by the car of the alarmed chairman. 
 
 Great confusion prevailed ; dusk had come 
 on ; but the provident Hancsa had carried a 
 
 * The constables in Hungary are called " hajdus." 
 
4.8 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 lantern, and it shed light on the senseless Trude. 
 The servant roared out for the Doctor, who 
 had left the field of action to the haidus, 
 and stept behind to reconnoitre the position of 
 the enemy, wisely remarking, that never did a 
 man of experience attack without a thorough 
 examination of what he was about. 
 
 "Haidu! haidu ! here seems danger!" he 
 cried ; and, when joined by them, he followed 
 the summons with due circumspection. But 
 Hancsa screamed : 
 
 " No more danger ; here she lies, the poor 
 little one, stone dead 1" 
 
 At this tiding, the whole assembly thronged 
 around, and the Doctor pushed his way. He 
 felt the pulse, and exclaimed : 
 
 " She is not lost ! water, water !" 
 
 A lad brought it in his hat. Trade was 
 besprinkled with it ; she soon recovered, and 
 was raised up. A laugh was always more fami- 
 liar to her mind than a tear to her eye. So 
 she heartily laughed at the adventure, smiled 
 at her lover, and embraced her father, who had 
 left his car, and had forgotten all anxiety, and 
 
THE CASTLE OF ZIPSEN. 49 
 
 all fright, and all anger, at the sight of his 
 child. Yet, when she now tried to step into 
 the car, she felt a violent pain in her foot, and 
 declared she certainly had broken a bone. So 
 the worshipful tailor hastily requested the barber 
 to come along with them. Trade was soon 
 placed on her couch; the injured foot was 
 examined by the doctor, who looked so grave, 
 and prepared the bandage with looks so know- 
 ing, that the fond father grew quite agitated, 
 and began to fear that his darling might be 
 very dangerously laid up, and might not recover 
 the use of her limb. But the doctor assured 
 him that with care and attention all would be 
 well, he answered for it. This he pronounced 
 with such confidence, that the old man felt quite 
 re-assured, and begged "the doctor" not to 
 depart; now, for the first time, applying this 
 name to the young man, whom until then he 
 had styled a quack. 
 
 Trude recovered, though not so fast as not 
 to require the diligent attendance of the doctor 
 But when at last he could not himself help 
 acknowledging that Trude no longer needed 
 
50 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 ids services, the worshipful tailor shook his 
 hand, and presented him with a well-filled purse, 
 manufactured by his daughter's own hands. 
 The young man accepted the purse, but returned 
 the money, saying, that he had a greater favour 
 to request. The tailor looked somewhat less 
 benignant than he had done for a long time, but 
 nevertheless said : 
 
 "Speak. 7 ' 
 
 Graspar then said, that an old aunt of his had 
 died, and had left him more ready money than 
 he could dispose of, that he, therefore, would 
 reckon it a high favour if the worshipful tailor 
 would take the small capital at whatever rate 
 of interest he thought fit, as no money could be 
 placed safer than with him. 
 
 The old man thought the young fellow had 
 real good sense, and answered : 
 " Well, well, I don't mind." 
 
 The doctor was now allowed to visit the 
 house, and after some months he often sat 
 beside Trude, in the presence of her father ; and 
 a full year did not elapse before he called her 
 his bride. 
 
THE CASTLE OF ZIPSEN. 51 
 
 The impression the adventurous leap had 
 made on the Knight was a lasting one. Nothing 
 short of a miracle could have saved the girl ; 
 lie therefore feared the vengeance of heaven. 
 He gave up his extravagant pursuits, led a 
 more regular life, and never more disturbed the 
 peace of the daughters of Kirchdrauf 
 
YANOSHIK, THE EOBBEE. 
 
 IN the time when King John Zapolya waged 
 war with King Ferdinand of Hapsburg, Yanoshik, 
 a mighty robber, dwelt in the mountains of the 
 counties Lipto and Arva. This Yanoshik was a 
 fine fellow. He swayed like a king over rich 
 and poor, and administered justice with no less 
 authority than the sheriff himself. Yet to women 
 he was sweet as honey, and to the poor as wel- 
 come as a roasted turkey to a suitor. In the 
 Jew and usurer on the contrary, he created even 
 more terror than the appearance of the wolf in 
 the fields. His strength was unparalleled, and 
 the supernatural axe he possessed made him 
 
THE BOBBEK. 53 
 
 quite unconquerable. "Whenever it wag* flung, 
 it hit the aim, and then returned into the hands 
 of Yanoshik, as the iron to the magnet.* 
 
 He once knocked aside with his foot alone 
 the stately coach of the Lord-Lieutenant, who 
 was coming back from dining with the Bishop. 
 The coachman whipped his four gallopping horses, 
 and little heeded a poor boy, who, driving back 
 unsold sheep from the market, could not get 
 out of the way quickly enough. The boy hallooed 
 and the coachman swore, when Yanoshik ap- 
 peared on- his roan horse. Before the snoring 
 Lord-Lieutenant within, or the Huszar and the 
 Slovak without, noticed the robber, his boot had 
 given such a tremendous push to the carriage, 
 that it bounded downright over the ditch, and 
 carried along with it the alarmed horses. 
 
 Another time Yanoshik came to the tavern of 
 a village, where fifty Svab-soldiersf were quar- 
 
 * The herdsmen in Hungary, especially the Kanasz 
 swineherds, excel in throwing the axe. 
 
 f Most of the German immigrants who settled in Hun- 
 gary, were " Svabians." Many of them were wretched 
 creatures, physically degenerate by misery, and therefore 
 
54 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 tered." They sat at the table swallowing fat 
 sausages and wine, and cursing the miserable pea- 
 sant who lived upon oats. 
 
 The peasants gathered before the doors of the 
 house, complained of the Svabs, their ill-treatment 
 and appetite, no less than of the niggard Jew, 
 who had claimed their crop, before he allowed 
 any more spirit on credit. 
 
 Yanoshik listened awhile, then stepped into the 
 room, mixed in the talk, and advocated the poor 
 peasant, who had to toil and to pay, whilst the 
 Svabs lived at his expense. The soldiers, at 
 first with words, but soon with hands too, 
 opposed the Slovak, whom they found a sturdier 
 man than they were wont to encounter. But 
 fifty to one, there was a chance. The Slovak, 
 nevertheless, proved a fair match to the game. 
 Leaning with his back against the wall, his short 
 axe hit all around. Like the balloon of a school- 
 boy, it always rebounded into the hands of 
 Yanoshik, who flung it again right and left without 
 
 looked down upon by the Hungarian peasant, who in con- 
 sequence not seldom uses " Svab" as a nick-name, which he 
 extends to all Germans. 
 
THE BOBBER. 55 
 
 once missing his aim. All in the room was 
 turned topsy turvy ; cracked bottles, benches 
 and tables thrown and broken, covered the floor, 
 and soon a dozen of the combatants were 
 stretched senseless : the others, bewildered at the 
 supernatural weapon of their adversary, took to 
 their heels, and never stopped till at dawn they 
 reached their officers, who attended the feasts 
 and balls usual in St. Nicholas during the 
 quarterly county meeting. 
 
 Yanoshik, meanwhile, had disappeared, followed 
 by the half-suppressed invectives of the Jewish 
 innkeeper, and by the enthusiastic cheers of 
 the mob, who had witnessed the struggle with 
 open mouths, and drops of anxiety on their 
 brows. 
 
 At St. Nicholas, the military men no less than 
 the legislators of the county, were astounded at 
 the impudence of the robber in their very neigh- 
 bourhood. They ordered their horses to be 
 saddled, and their carriages to be got ready ; and 
 set out after dinner to investigate the mischief 
 perpetrated, and to ascertain the direction the 
 criminal had taken. 
 
56 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 When the stately procession arrived at the 
 village, it was received with cheers, but no one 
 was able to tell whither the robber had gone. 
 Old and young were summoned to give evidence. 
 Every one described differently the appearance of 
 Yanoshik. One said he was of gigantic frame, 
 and had owl's eyes. Another represented him 
 short, covered all over with hair like a bear, and 
 wearing the diamond ring of the Bishop on his 
 fore-finger. 
 
 But singular it is, that in direct opposition, 
 all females accorded in calling him a fine lad, 
 and a gallant fellow, and that they did not 
 seem the least afraid of the monster. 
 
 All these contrary accounts were taken into 
 protocol, and deposited in the archives of the 
 county. The pursuit of the robber, however, 
 was put off. 
 
 Year passed after year, and Yanoshik could 
 not be captured, though he did not fail to 
 appear but too frequently at the manors of the 
 lords, who spent their income far away at the 
 court of the king in Vienna, and allowed their 
 stewards, in that lawless time, to drive the poor 
 
THE EOBBER. 57 
 
 peasant from his hut and his soil, regardless of 
 every written law of the country. 
 
 At such manors, Yanoshik exacted cattle and 
 corn, sheep and wine, and divided the prey 
 amongst the poor people. He freely exercised 
 the principle of Proudhon's " gratuitous credit," 
 and constituted, in his own single person, the 
 Court and the Chief Justice, without appeal. 
 His abode never could be traced. Hajdus 
 (constables)* were sent after him to the moun- 
 tains, and into the woods, but they never found 
 him. Sometimes when they rested at an inn, 
 after fruitless search, a herdsman appeared, a 
 friar, or a pedlar, and related stories of Yanoshik 
 and his feats. And after the men had half- 
 impatiently listened, and termed the lawless 
 hero a wretched coward, who always fled before 
 them, he threw off his disguise, and exclaimed : 
 " I am Yanoshik !" but at the same time wielded 
 his axe according to his custom, and had dis- 
 
 * The county police on foot is called " Hajdu," 
 whilst the county police on horseback is termed 
 " Hussar." 
 
 3* 
 
58 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 appeared before his pursuers had recovered their 
 senses. 
 
 But the man unconquerable by the sword, 
 and not to be overtaken by pursuit, was snared, 
 like Samson, by the charms of .a girl. The 
 round rosy cheeks and sky-blue eyes of Marcsa, 
 the servant of the curate, shone with self- 
 satisfaction, when she walked to church on a 
 Sunday. Her long flaxen tresses were brightly 
 smoothed with lard, and braided with the most 
 gaudy ribbons ; the white muslin handkerchief 
 which covered her neck was embroidered with 
 gold ; but more than of anything else was she 
 proud of the crimson colour of her petticoat, 
 and of the boots which she carried in her hand, 
 and pulled on only at the door of the church. 
 They certainly were as beautiful as any sold in 
 the market of St. Nicholas at the time of 
 indulgence, when the procession, joined by the 
 inhabitants of the neighbouring villages, brought 
 thousands of customers thither. But who gave 
 all those fineries to Marcsa ? Surely not the old 
 curate ! the strings of his purse were drawn 
 tight: this was well known. And though the 
 
THE ROBBER. 59 
 
 lads of the village pointed out Marcsa to the 
 girls they led to the dance on the church-ale, 
 and shook hands so heartily with the pretty 
 wench, that their companions reddened and gave 
 them a pull, yet she always walked by herself, 
 and seldom joined the dance and the frolic. In 
 the evening, after work was done, she sat lonely 
 before the door of the Parsonage, whilst all the 
 other girls had their talk with their sweethearts 
 out of doors. She was up before the cock 
 crowed, and was the last to leave labour. The 
 cows of the curate were well kept, his geese 
 excellently fattened, his cabbage was carefully 
 dug up, his winter-stock always proved plentiful, 
 and though he was an authority as to fare, he 
 never had to complain of his cook. For these 
 reasons (it was whispered) he shut his eyes to 
 certain walks in the woods, where his servant, 
 it seems, searched for berries and herbs in the 
 most remotest corners. 
 
 That Yanoshik was the lover of Marcsa was 
 well known in the village, but no one cared to 
 lay information against them. Yet as every 
 mystery gets abroad, so this too reached the 
 
60 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY, 
 
 ears of the county magistrate. The sheriff 
 summoned a county meeting ; the judges were 
 elected, and Marcsa put before the court. She 
 laughed at the examination, and said, that the- 
 axe of her Yanoshik would make quick work of 
 dispersing the illustrious assembly. The truth 
 of this was admitted, and Marcsa was released. 
 But whilst the gentlemen debated, she had con- 
 ceived so warm a friendship for Miso, the hand- 
 some constable on guard in the court of the 
 county-house, that she invited him to come to 
 see her in the village. When she met Yanoshik 
 again, she no longer liked him ; for she found 
 him too stern in looks, and too poor in attire. 
 His plain linen shirt was fastened in front of 
 his neck with a brass buckle : he wore a black 
 leather belt with yellow buttons, and Slovak 
 half-boots, while long hair wildly covered his 
 brow. What a contrast to the elegant constable, 
 with the red hussar-jacket, richly trimmed with 
 strings, and boots as smoothly blackened as his 
 twisted moustachio ! 
 
 She tried to persuade Yanoshik to throw 
 away his shabby belt, and to spare some of 
 
THE ROBBER. 61 
 
 the riches for himself, which he used to dis- 
 tribute amongst the poor people; but he refused. 
 It was the first time he had rejected a request of 
 his Marcsa, and as she did not leave off insisting 
 on her desire, he at last said : 
 
 " Know, woman, that my strength rests with 
 my belt : to take this from me is to bereave me 
 of my power." 
 
 Marcsa weighed these words in her mind, 
 and when, on a cloudy evening, the fine con- 
 stable from St. Nicholas mixed with his praises 
 of her charms some questions about Yanoshik, 
 she could not refrain from boasting that the 
 terrific robber was in her power, as she alone 
 knew that by taking from him the strength- 
 imparting belt, he would be at her mercy. 
 
 The constable managed so well, that before 
 he retraced his steps to St. Nicholas, he knew 
 that every Saturday during the summer, the 
 robber used to visit a cavern in the thickest 
 part of the pine-forest, near the red cross on the 
 precipice of the mountain ; that in an elevated 
 niche of that cavern he kept an immovably 
 heavy chest, in which he locked up plate and 
 
62 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 coin, which he dispensed to the poor in the 
 winter, when the sufferings of the indigent are 
 worst; that he came thither at dusk, and slept 
 until dawn, as the pathless descent was imprac- 
 ticable in the darkness of night. Miso repeated 
 to himself every word of this confidence during 
 his long walk to St. Nicholas. On the next 
 Saturday, he resumed that walk, but accompa- 
 nied by a gipsy, who knew well all the paths in 
 the country, and followed at a short distance by a 
 company of soldiers. 
 
 At several hundred paces from the village 
 they turned into the woods, and climbed up a 
 rough ascent. It was long dark when they 
 arrived at the cavern, which the gipsy entered 
 with Miso, who held a lantern in his hand, and 
 hid it with the folds of his white cloak, so as not 
 to awake the robber by its rays ; stepping 
 carefully, he almost tumbled over the gigantic 
 frame of a man, couched with his face on his 
 hands. At his side, in the indistinct shadow of 
 a hnge chest, lay a short axe and a key. 
 
 The constable warily drew forth his sabre, 
 and cut the belt of the sleeping robber so inge- 
 
 , 
 
THE ROBBER. 63 
 
 niously as not to touch his skin or disturb his 
 sleep. A slight whistle sufficed to bring the 
 soldiers to the entrance. The gipsy meanwhile 
 had with long fingers purloined the weapon of 
 Yanoshik, taken up the key, ascended and noise- 
 lessly unlocked the chest, and put the axe into 
 it. But hardly had the chest-lid been closed 
 and the key been turned, when the axe began 
 to hammer so furiously that Yanoshik awoke, 
 and aware of treachery, but relying' on his 
 strength, raised both his fists to do havoc amongst 
 the enemies. But when he sprang up in rage, 
 his belt fell on the ground, his strength failed. 
 Miso, from behind, seized his raised arms, and 
 easily handcuffed him. The soldiers meanwhile 
 had thronged into the cavern. The robber 
 thus was dragged to St. Nicholas before the 
 court-martial. He owned all his deeds, but 
 sent a message to the King: u That for a free 
 pardon Yanoshik would furnish three regiments 
 to fight the enemies of King Ferdinand.' 7 The 
 gentlemen of the county, however, did not wait 
 for the answer ; they convicted the robber and 
 sentenced him to be hanged up with an iron 
 
64 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 hook between his ribs. Thus he hung three 
 days and three nights without uttering a com- 
 plaint. He smoked one pipe after the other, 
 until at last exhausted by the loss of blood, he 
 breathed his last. 
 
 He had just expired when the pardon arrived 
 from Vienna. But the King, displeased at the 
 gentlemen of Lipto, who had not "awaited the 
 answer, condemned them to lose their privilege 
 of being free from taxation, and to pay annually 
 four-pence to the hospital of St. Nicholas. 
 
 To students of northern mythology, it is 
 obvious that the axe of Yanoshik is identical 
 with the Miollner, the battle-hammer of Thor, 
 which always returned into his hand, when he 
 had flung it away, and whose strength, as with 
 the Sclavonic robber, was bound to his belt, and 
 who was not overpowered by the giants until 
 they had stolen his belt. It therefore seems, 
 that this tale, though transferred to a more 
 recent period, dates from the most remote times, 
 and has undergone many modifications before 
 adopting its present shape. 
 
THE FEEE SHOT. 
 
 IN the valleys of the Carpathians we often 
 meet with lakes of immeasurable depth. Through 
 these lonely pools no springs visibly gargle up ; 
 from them no living rivulets emerge. The lake 
 fc is silent as its surrounding dale : and did not the 
 sun's heat draw off the waters in copious steam, 
 they would inundate the narrow meadow, by 
 which they are bordered on one side, or the 
 strong walls of rock against which they splash 
 with monotonous uniformity. 
 
 The inhabitants of the neighbourhood believe 
 the lakes to be connected with the distant Baltic, 
 which, it is said, regulates their movements; 
 
I 
 
 66 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 and for this reason call them the *' Eyes of the 
 Sea." 
 
 When the lakes are troubled, the people say : 
 " There is surely a great storm at sea!" Tra- 
 dition goes from father to son, that fragments 
 of vessels and wares, swallowed up by the wide 
 ocean, thousands and thousands of miles off, 
 have been cast ashore at the lakes. The stern 
 cliffs by which they are encircled, the limpid- 
 ness of their emerald waters, their mysterious 
 depth, the difficulty of approaching them; all 
 .spread a mythical charm 'over the "Eyes of 
 the Sea," and connect with them many a curious 
 tale. One of these is the following : 
 
 At the clear green lake, near the summit of 
 Lomnicz, even the dark vegetation of the fir-, 
 tree has already failed. Scanty mountain-pines 
 and mosses might seem to be the sole representa- 
 tives of the magnificent family of plants, did not 
 the maidenly Alpine-rose, that lovely companion 
 of the chamois, here and there soften the wild 
 prospect. No humming of beetles, no warbling 
 of birds there lulls stern Nature to repose ; but 
 
THE FREE SHOT. 67 
 
 rocks tower to the skies, and frown upon the 
 earth. 
 
 * Barren, however, as were those regions, they 
 were beautiful with a purple light, which soft- 
 ened the edge of the rugged rock, and shed 
 mild brilliance over the dreariest mountain side, 
 even when the sun had disappeared. The 
 blush of the sky, moreover, was the more en- 
 chanting, from its contrast to the deep green 
 tinge in the transparent waters of the " Eye of 
 the Sea." 
 
 The cause of this heavenly beauty was no 
 secret to the Karpathian peasants. They knew 
 that on the brow of a precipice, which almost 
 reached to the level of eternal snow, a CAR- 
 BUNCLE lay, imbibing all day long the sun's 
 unveiled glances, and radiating them forth again 
 at night on the whole country around. 
 
 This wonderful stone was so magnificent, that 
 its renown necessarity spread all over the world. 
 Many a King had heard of it, and promised 
 half a kingdom to him who would lay the cele- 
 brated gem on the steps of the throne. 
 
68 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 The prospect of such a reward excited more 
 than one fearless man to the enterprize, but in 
 vain. Like polished marble, the rock offered ifo 
 projection to the ascending foot. ISTo one could 
 approach the shining jewel, which lay aloft, 
 beyond the flight of the arrow, or of the eagle. 
 Its purple rays continued to illumine the lovely 
 nights of the unpeopled valley, as if it disdained 
 the palaces of Kings; and every attempt to 
 reach it failed. 
 
 A sportsman had for years and years longed 
 to climb up to this virgin summit. He vied 
 with the chamois, and even surpassed its danger- 
 despising alertness, but remained ever far from 
 his aim. At last he resolved to try with his 
 rifle to win the treasure he was unable to 
 grasp. He chose to expose the precious 
 stone to be scattered in pieces, rather than 
 renounce its possession ; for he knew that every 
 fragment of it would prove of priceless worth. 
 But his new mode of attack had no better suc- 
 cess than before : his balls rebounded from the 
 rock, and fell flattened to the ground; none 
 
THE FKEE SHOT. 69 
 
 attained to the height of the Carbuncle. But 
 the heart of the .sportsman was bent upon his 
 purpose. He would not recede, and pledged 
 his soul to the Demon for a "Free Shot."* 
 At dusk he hastened to the lake. His sight 
 
 * The " Free Shot" is a tradition well-known by Ger- 
 man and Hungarian sportsmen. The devil, called upon by 
 the sportsman, grants to him six balls, which cannot fail 
 their aim, but the seventh ball belongs to the devil, and he 
 directs it according to his own choice. This tale has been 
 rendered more generally popular by Carl M. Weber's well- 
 known opera, " Der Freischiitz." 
 
 I recollect to have heard in the county of Saros, that 
 a forester of the family of Ketzer performed, at mid- 
 night, the ceremonies of the invocation for a " Free 
 Shot." Horrified by the apparition of ghostly sights, 
 he reeled beyond the magic circle, which he had traced 
 around him for protection. In the very same instant 
 all the hair was rent from his head, and he returned 
 home entirely bald; for two whole days he speechlessly 
 looked up the chimney, in hopes to discover his hair, 
 as he well knew that if the devil had caught hold of a 
 single hair, he had no longer a chance of escaping. On the 
 third day, when he was just ready to blow out his brains, 
 he examined his rifle, and to his great satisfaction, found 
 his whole wig in the barrel. 
 
70 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY, 
 
 was dazzled by the golden twilight around. He 
 trembled as he drew the trigger, yet his aim 
 could not fail. 
 
 The ball precisely hit the point in which the 
 gem was joined to the rock ; but the power of 
 the shot was too great. It severed the car- 
 buncle from the granite, but instead of precipi- 
 tating it on to the meadow, which lay between 
 the rock and the water, hurled it into the waves 
 of the bottomless lake. 
 
 Hereupon the "Bye of the Sea" grew dark, 
 and since that time it reflects only the barren 
 rock, being no longer brightened by the car- 
 buncle. The secluded dale is disturbed no more 
 by the cupidity of men, for its treasure has 
 vanished. 
 
THE GOLDEN CEOSS OF KOKOSFO. 
 
 K&ROSFO had grown tlie ricliest village in the 
 county of Saros. The gold and silver mines 
 of the neighbourhood yielded such splendid 
 revenues, that every inhabitant of the village 
 possessed a polished chest. Eight oxen, and 
 four horses, stood in every stable. The sheep- 
 skin of the peasant was fastened with golden 
 hooks. The buttons of his blue jacket were of 
 the purest silver. Golden spurs clanked on his 
 boots. The large linen sleeves of the youngsters 
 were trimmed with precious laces. The maidens 
 adorned themselves with silver wreaths. The 
 women wore golden caps. Silver spoons and 
 
72 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 plates glistened on the shelves of their kitchens : 
 they drank their imperial Tokay in golden cups. 
 The blessing of Heaven thus richly manifested 
 itself upon the peasants of Korosfo. But they 
 likewise proved deserving; for the treasures 
 they won in the sweat of their brows were 
 employed to the benefit of their brethren. No 
 beggar was seen in the whole neighbourhood. 
 Whoever wanted work, got profitable labour ; 
 and whoever proved unequal to it, was placed 
 in the hospital, and was' nursed with provident 
 care. 
 
 Eaising a worthy monument of their thanks- 
 giving to the Dispenser of all bounties, they 
 erected a large stone church, and on its steeple 
 they placed a globe of beaten gold, so large 
 that a quarter of wheat would hardly have filled 
 it; and upon the globe they fixed a cross of 
 massive gold, two fathoms high. One duty, 
 however, had escaped their attention regard 
 for the education of their children. It is true 
 that they got them the most costly teachers of 
 languages and philosophy, of dancing and 
 
THE GOLDEN CBOSS. 73 
 
 music. The boys and girls knew every plant, 
 from the cedar to the hyssop ; but they were 
 not taught to work. The generation which had 
 explored the lucrative mines died away, and 
 their descendants had only learnt to enjoy, not 
 to earn. They grew luxurious and selfish : loud 
 songs and merry fiddles deafened the ear to 
 every other interest ; feasting went on from 
 morning to night. Beggars hovered round the 
 houses of the wealthy, desiring to be fed with 
 the crumbs which fell from the rich man's 
 table. But it was not a tender care for less 
 fortunate brethren that conceded this help to 
 the poor ; it was the selfish motive " to get rid 
 of the beggar," which granted momentary sup- 
 port, and neglected the supply of lasting wants. 
 The number of claims increased daily, and 
 many a pang of widowed hearts remained un- 
 soothed, whilst parasites thronged to the hos- 
 pitable tables of the rich peasants of Korosfo, 
 who, no longer satisfied with the pork and beef, 
 the veal and poultry of their own yards, and 
 
 with wheaten bread and wine grown in their 
 4 
 
74 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGAKY. 
 
 fields, purchased delicacies fetched from the 
 towns. One family vied with another. Every 
 one found willing flatterers, who occasioned dis- 
 putes and hatred. 
 
 As none of the inhabitants worked during 
 the week, none of them felt the blessing of 
 Sunday's repose, which leads to the grateful 
 attendance on divine service. The church soon 
 remained deserted, and nobody listened to the 
 earnest sermons of the old clergyman; and 
 when he died, the peasants resolved to elect no 
 more preachers, but to turn the empty church 
 into a dancing-hall, which they found indis- 
 pensable, as their rooms were not spacious 
 enough for their entertainments. 
 
 The next Friday was fixed upon for a bril- 
 liant ball, by which the sacred building was 
 to be inaugurated for its new service. It 
 struck no one that the appointed day was Good 
 Friday : Christian holidays had long escaped 
 minds occupied with worldly concerns alone. 
 Men and women, boys and girls, all met in 
 their most costly apparel in the church, which 
 
THE GOLDEN CKOSS. 75 
 
 was now the new dancing-liall. Instead of the 
 solemnly touching sounds of the organ, the wild 
 strains of the fiddling gipsy-band were to be heard. 
 Unruly crowds elbowed through the nave, 
 giddy pairs whirled around, peals of laughter 
 were heard, and the dinner-bell was calling to 
 abundant feasts. But a tremendous thunder- 
 clap suddenly interrupted the enjoyment; it 
 grew dark ; the earth burst asunder, and swal- 
 lowed up the corrupt village with all its 
 graceless inhabitants. 
 
 Centuries have passed since the catastrophe. 
 The gold and silver-mines in the neighbourhood 
 of Korosfo have disappeared ; a poor village 
 marks the place, where the wealthy community 
 once resided in forgetful luxury. But on Good 
 Friday, whilst throughout all Catholic Christen- 
 dom every church-bell is silent, and the rattling 
 woodclapper alone calls to prayer, ringing of 
 bells is to be heard here, rising from the 
 depths of the earth. These lugubrious sounds 
 are sometimes mingled with terrific shrieks, 
 
76 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 such, as escape the human breast when con- 
 vulsed by fright. 
 
 The inhabitants of the village regularly on 
 that day go to the heath, and notice the spot 
 where these sounds are most distinctly heard. 
 On the next following work-day,, they then dig 
 the ground to find the golden cross, and the 
 golden globe of the tower, which sank into the 
 depth ; but every research, has hitherto proved 
 fruitless. Once, it is true, the treasure was 
 detected, but only to be lost again. 
 
 It was noon. The herdsman of Korosfo sat 
 on the pasture-ground, at the fire which he kept 
 up from the heaps of brushwood. On a 
 pointed stick he turned a piece of bacon about, 
 tossing it over the flame, and dripping the 
 grease down on a slice of bread, sprinkled with 
 salt, whilst savoury potatoes were baking in the 
 glimmering ashes. The sheep and lambs grazed 
 here and there, and basked in the sun, when sud- 
 denly the dog, drawing up his hind foot, 
 hobbled with loud yelps to his master's side. 
 
THE GOLDEN CROSS. 77 
 
 The shepherd examined his faithful attendant, 
 and saw that the paw was wounded. Ho 
 had ended his meal, so he took a draught of 
 wine from his wooden-bottle, and then followed 
 the traces of blood to find out where, and by 
 what, the animal had been so sharply hurt. 
 
 To his great surprise he beheld a yellow 
 point, peeping out from the meadow ! there 
 could be no doubt he had discovered the long- 
 sought for golden cross. His first thought 
 was to keep the treasure to himself alone ; to 
 dig it out by degrees, and to lift it piece by 
 piece. He ardently set to work, and though he 
 had no other tools than his hands and a pocket- 
 knife, he, with the greatest energy, laid bare 
 a considerable part of the cross. When the 
 evening came on, he had scratched off no less 
 than two spans' deep of the hard earth; and 
 the gold sparkled as bright as the edge of the 
 cloud behind which the sun was just setting. 
 But the strength of the shepherd proved in- 
 sufficient to break even the smallest particle 
 from the cross. He became aware that it was 
 
78 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 impossible for Mm alone to raise tlie treasure. 
 So lie hid the golden point with hay and dry 
 leaves to mark the spot where it was, and 
 hastened to the village with the tidings that he 
 had discovered the golden steeple. 
 
 Though night had come on, the inhabitants 
 took lanterns and torches in hand ; and, armed 
 with spades and hatchets, hastened to the pas- 
 ture-ground. They had seen that the dog was 
 lame, and therefore could not doubt that he 
 had pierced himself by the golden point. But 
 when they came to the meadow, the shepherd 
 could no longer ascertain the spot where the 
 cross had appeared. Dispersed hay and dry 
 leaves were scattered over the heath, but 
 nothing else could be found. The peasants 
 returned home. On the subsequent day they 
 came again to renew the anxious search ; the 
 whole turf was turned up, yet the steeple could 
 not be traced. The shepherd certainly had 
 seen it, but it had disappeared for ever. 
 
THE GUAKDIANS. 
 
 A JEWISH LEGEND. 
 
 GOD created man and formed his body gigan- 
 tic in length and in breadth, and wove for him 
 a garment of the light of heaven, so that it 
 shone from sunrise to sunset; and gave him 
 dominion over the fish of the sea and over 
 the fowl of the air, and over every living thing 
 that moveth upon the earth. And when the 
 creatures beheld man, they trembled before him, 
 and believed him to be the Creator, and ap- 
 proached him to worship him, because he stood 
 upright on his feet, and was created in the 
 image of Grod. But the man said unto them : 
 
80 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 "You come to worship me? Forbear: let us 
 clothe ourselves in power and glory, and elect 
 him as our King who has created us ; for the 
 people will do well to serve a King, but no King 
 can set up himself, if the people do not elect 
 him." 
 
 And Adam went and served the Lord God 
 as his King, and all creatures followed him. 
 
 And Jehovah rejoiced at the obedience of the 
 man, and spake unto the angels, saying : " Go 
 ye down from your stars, stand around the man, 
 and serve him.' 7 
 
 And the angels came down from their stars, 
 and served the man, and returned again unto 
 heaven, and praised the Lord that he had created 
 the man. 
 
 But the man was created with free choice, 
 and in his breast lived, besides good desires, a 
 propensity to bad ; at first, thin as a cobweb, 
 but the man did not resist it, and it grew strong 
 as a cable. And the man sinned, and was 
 driven out from the Garden of Eden, and lost 
 the length and the breadth of his body, and 
 
THE GUARDIANS. 81 
 
 his radiant garment fell from him, and the skins 
 of the wild beasts now clothed the naked man, 
 and he lost his dominion over creation. 
 
 And when the angels saw that he who had 
 once been so glorious now tilled the ground 
 which brought forth thousands of thistles, and 
 ate his bread in the sweat of his brow, Sham- 
 hazai and Azael, the first of the guardians, 
 approached the throne of the Lord, and asked : 
 " Why hast thou created him who has provoked 
 thy wrath ? Why didst thou give him the do- 
 minion over creation, who did not know how to 
 preserve his dominion ? Why hast thou com- 
 manded us to go down unto him and to serve 
 him who is more miserable than the worm that 
 creeps upon the earth?" 
 
 And the Lord said, and spoke unto them: 
 "Go ye also down to the earth, and ye will 
 sin as he hath sinned." 
 
 And the guardians went down unto the earth, 
 
 in number two hundred, in the days of lared, 
 
 to the Mount Hermon, when men began to 
 
 multiply on the face of the earth, and daughters 
 
 4* 
 
82 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 were born unto them. And. the sons of God 
 saw the daughters of men, that they were fair, 
 and they were smitten with love to them, and 
 dallied with them. But they knew that when 
 an angel remains seven days upon earth, his 
 form attracts to it that which is earthly, until 
 he himself becomes earthly, so that he can, no 
 more soar unto heaven ; but his star wanes, 
 and a mist bedims its glance. 
 
 When now the first evening twinkled for 
 them upon earth, they looked up and said : 
 " Our stars still shine in silver purity, let us 
 remain one day more ;" and they remained the 
 second day with the daughters of men : and 
 when the evening came the earthly husk which, 
 they had attracted formed transparent bodies for 
 tliem, and the daughters of men rejoiced that 
 they could see the angels who until now had 
 moved bodiless around them. And the angels 
 looked up again, and said : " Our stars still 
 shine with golden light, let us remain one day 
 more ;" and they remained the third day, and 
 their bodies grew more compact and more like 
 
THE GUARDIANS. 83 
 
 the bodies of men, and the daughters of men 
 rejoiced that they were becoming more like to 
 them. 
 
 From night to night the ray of the two 
 hundred stars turned redder and less pure ; they 
 were surrounded by a murky halo, and the 
 angels grew daily more fleshly, and the love of 
 the daughters of men more glowing. So when 
 the seventh evening came on, the guardians 
 remembered the words of the Lord, and wished 
 to fly back to their stars, and to forsake the 
 daughters of men who wept and clung to them. 
 
 But they could no longer soar up ; for their 
 bodies stuck to the ground with leaden weight, 
 and they could not return to their stars, now 
 dim. The daughters of men rejoiced; but the 
 guardians did not humble themselves before the 
 Lord, when they saw that they could no longer 
 leave earth ; and disregarding His sacred decree, 
 they were seized with wrath against men, as if 
 it were to these, not to their own pride, that they 
 ascribed their fate. And their sons became 
 mighty men which were of old, men of renown, 
 
84 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGAKY. 
 
 and declared war against one another and 
 against mankind, and collected hosts with which 
 they joined in bloody battles ; and thousands and 
 thousands of men bled for the renown and the 
 rapaciousness of the mighty ones. Thus they 
 continued and do continue the work of destruc- 
 tion until the day of retribution the Day of 
 Judgment, when time stall be closed, and every 
 earthly thing shall cease. 
 
 But as for the guardians, Jehovah commanded 
 them to be bound by Eaphael, both hand and 
 foot, and to be thrown into the bottomless pit. 
 He opened the wilderness in Dadael, and exiled 
 them thereto ; and on the great Day of Judgment 
 will judge them and cast them into the eternal 
 fire of the Gehenna. 
 
THE LOVE OF THE ANGELS. 
 
 THE tradition of tlie Angels' love is not 
 confined to the ancient world ; we meet a 
 similar legend with the Objibway savages in 
 North America. But in the new world the 
 legend is nothing more than the sport of ima- 
 gination, without the moral weight giving 
 additional charm to the Jewish and Persian 
 tale. 
 
 The Objibway Chief, Kahgega Gahbowh, 
 relates in the traditional history of his nation : 
 
 " There was once a time when this world 
 was filled with happy people, when all nations 
 were as one, and the crimson tide of war had 
 
86 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 not begun to roll. Plenty of game was in tlie 
 forest, and on tlie plains. None were in want, 
 for a supply was at hand. Sickness was un- 
 known. The beasts of the field were tame, 
 and they came and went at the bidding of man. 
 One unending spring gave no place for winter 
 for its cold blasts, or its unhealthy chills. 
 Every tree and bush yielded fruit. 
 
 " Flowers carpeted the earth ; the air was 
 laden with their fragrance, and redolent with 
 the songs of the myriad warblers that flew from 
 branch to branch, fearing none, for there was 
 none to harm them. There were birds then 
 of more beautiful song and plumage than 
 now. 
 
 " It was at such a time, when earth was a 
 paradise, and man worthily its possessor, that 
 the Indians were the lone inhabitants of the 
 American wilderness. 
 
 They numbered millions, and, living as 
 Nature designed them to live, enjoyed its many 
 blessings. Instead of amusements in close 
 rooms, the sports of the field were theirs. At 
 
LOVE OF THE ANGELS. 87 
 
 night they met on the wide green fields. They 
 watched the stars ; they loved to gaze at them, 
 for they believed them to be the residences of 
 the good who had been taken home by the 
 Great Spirit. 
 
 " One night they saw one star that shone 
 brighter than all others. Its location was 
 far away in the south near a mountain peak. 
 For many nights it was seen, till at length it 
 was doubted by many that the star was as far 
 distant in the southern skies as it seemed to be. 
 This doubt led to an examination, which proved 
 the star to be only a short distance, and near 
 the tops of some trees. 
 
 " A number of warriors were deputed to go 
 and see what it was. They went, and on their 
 return said it appeared strange, and somewhat 
 like a bird. A committee of the wise men 
 were called to inquire into it, and if possible, 
 ascertain the meaning of the strange pheno- 
 menon. 
 
 1 i They feared that it might be the omen of 
 some disaster. Some thought it the precursor 
 
88 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 of good, others of evil, and some supposed it to 
 be the star spoken of by their forefathers as the 
 forerunner of a dreadful war. 
 
 " One moon had nearly gone by, and yet 
 the mystery remained unsolved. 
 
 " One night a young warrior had a dream, 
 in which a beautiful maiden came and stood 
 at his side, and thus addressed him : 
 
 " l Young brave ! charmed with the land of 
 thy forefathers, its flowers, its birds, its rivers, 
 its beautiful lakes, and mountains clothed with 
 green, I have left my sisters in yonder world to 
 dwell among you. Young brave ! ask your 
 wise and great men where I can live and see 
 the happy race continually ; ask them what 
 form I shall assume in order to be loved. 7 
 
 "Thus discoursed the bright stranger. The 
 young man awoke. On stepping out of his 
 lodge, he saw the star yet blazing in its accus- 
 tomed place* 
 
 "At early dawn the chief's crier was sent 
 round the camp to call every warrior to the 
 conncil-lodge. When they had met, the young 
 
LOVE OF THE ANGELS. 89 
 
 warrior related his dream. They concluded 
 that the star that had been seen in the south 
 had fallen in love with mankind, and that it 
 was desirous to dwell with them. 
 
 "The next night five tall, noble-looking, 
 adventurous braves were sent to welcome the 
 stranger to earth. 
 
 " They went and presented to it a pipe of 
 peace, filled with sweet-scented herbs, and were 
 rejoiced to find it took it from them. As they 
 returned to the village, the star with expanded 
 wing followed, and hovered over their homes 
 till the dawn of day. 
 
 1 i Again it came to the young man in a 
 dream, and desired to know where it should 
 live, and what form it should take. 
 
 " Places were named. On the top of giant 
 trees, or in flowers. At length it was told to 
 choose a place itself, and it did so. 
 
 " At first it dwelt in the white rose of the 
 mountains : but there it was so buried that 
 it could not be seen. It went to the prairie, but 
 it feared the hoof of the buffalo. It next 
 
90 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 sought the rocky cliff, but there it was so high 
 that the children whom it loved most could not 
 see it. 
 
 " 1 1 know where I shall live,' said the bright 
 fugitive; ' where I can see the gliding canoe of 
 the race I most admire; Children ! yes, they 
 shall be my playmates, and I will kiss their 
 brows when they slumber by the side of cool 
 lakes. The nations shall love me wherever I 
 am.' 
 
 " These words having been said, she alighted 
 on the waters where she saw herself reflected. 
 The next morning, thousands of white flowers 
 were seen on the surface of the lakes, and the 
 Indians gave them this name, i Wah-le-gwon- 
 nej (White Lily). 
 
THE MAID AND THE GENII. 
 
 THE rabbinical tradition of Shamhazai and 
 Azael is not only to be met with amongst the 
 Jews in Hungary ; founded on a passage of the 
 Genesis,* it is spread as far as the Talmud, 
 from which it is derived, and its poetical beauty 
 has made it popular in a still wider sphere, as is 
 obvious by the Persian tale of Anahid. This 
 bears so striking a relation to our rabbinical 
 tradition, that we are induced to add it here, as 
 illustrative of the different conception of Persian 
 and Jewish genius.f 
 
 * Genesis vi. 1 4. 
 
 t A Persian tradition may find its place amongst 
 Hungarian ones with so much more reason, as the 
 
92 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 Anahid was the most beautiful of the virgins 
 of Iran : her beauty was the expression of her 
 soul. Harmonious in her thoughts and feel- 
 ings, harmonious in her countenance and move- 
 ments, she instinctively was attracted by the 
 charms of her lyre, whose strings vibrated under 
 her fingers with the expression of most perfect 
 serenity. Her accords soothed the passions 
 which were awakened by her virgin loveliness. 
 Conscious that her beauty was no merit, she 
 charmed every one who approached her; she 
 
 Hungarians, a " Scythian" people, seem anciently to 
 have inhabited the frontiers of Persia. The name 
 of Ahriman, the god of evil to the ancient Persians, 
 remains to these days with its primitive signification in 
 the Hungarian language, Armany being still the term 
 for intrigue and base treachery. The name of the 
 god Ormuzd, is also to be found in Hungary connected 
 with the names of places and families, but without any 
 other signification. The root of this word in Hungarian 
 is " Orom," the high place, which reminds us that the 
 Persians worshipped Ormuzd on the heights. The Hun- 
 garian expression for God, " Isten," is evidently Persian, as 
 Yezdan is a surname of Ormudz. 
 
THE MAID AND THE GENII. 93 
 
 was happy to spread joy and felicity around, 
 and the calm of her heart remained undisturbed. 
 Her praise was soon sounded all over Iran, 
 and it reached even the dwellings of the blessed. 
 Those who once had beheld her could never again 
 forget her. Even after death, when, in the 
 arms of the Hoories, in the Garden of Eden, 
 they lost the remembrance of all. troubles and 
 all joys of earth, they still remembered the 
 virgin of Iran, whose virtues resisted every 
 temptation so her name was glorified amongst 
 the blessed. At this the Hoories grew dis- 
 pleased and jealous. A damsel of earth, dust- 
 born like other mortals, was to enjoy the privi- 
 lege of the blessed spirits, untroubled happiness, 
 already in earthly life ! 
 
 Harut and Marut, the genii of the winds and 
 the waves, offered to descend unto earth to lead 
 Anahid into temptation, and to prove that she 
 was not more perfect than her sisters, and that 
 she could stumble like them. 
 
 They presented themselves before the Angel, 
 who with the flaming sword guards the gates 
 
94 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 of Paradise, and requested permission to pass. 
 He said with, a melancholy smile : " Do ac- 
 cording to your wish.; the mysterious name of 
 the Almighty ever opens the gates of Paradise 
 to you; but beware, that if you pronounce 
 that sacred name but once to human ears, you 
 forget it irretrievably, and my flaming sword then 
 prohibits your ingress." 
 
 But the genii laughed, and said : " For 
 him wlio has once tasted tlie blessings of Para* 
 dise, earth can afford no such, inducement, 
 that for its sake he should forego return to 
 heaven." 
 
 The Angel opened the gate, and on the dewy 
 wings of the evening breeze they descended to 
 earth. 
 
 In the shape of foreign merchants they ap- 
 proached the fair maiden, and said that her 
 renown had led them to Iran from the borders 
 of Kathay, and from the isles Wak-Wak, and 
 they offered her the treasures of their distant 
 homes. 
 
 But neither the flattering words, nor the gifts 
 
THE MAID AND THE GENII. 95 
 
 of the handsome strangers, made impression on 
 Anahid. She greeted them kindly as guests, 
 and entertained them according as the law com- 
 mands that guests should be greeted and enter- 
 tained. Yet her charms acted powerfully on 
 Harut and Marut; glowing emotions disturbed 
 their breasts, and they felt that the tunes of her 
 lyre alone could tame the storm and calm the 
 flood of her passion. They exerted all their 
 powers to win the heart of the virgin ; what they 
 had begun in deceitful sport had turned into 
 serious reality. 
 
 But Anahid remained equally serene, and un- 
 impassioned ; she did not partake of the feel- 
 ings she inspired. With the genii the pangs of 
 jealousy were added to those of unreturned love ; 
 they would not believe that the virgin could last- 
 ingly remain unmoved by the violence of their 
 longings ; but each of them trembled lest his 
 companion should be preferred to himself. They, 
 therefore, did not leave each other for a single 
 instant. They went together to her, and found 
 
96 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 her at the lyre, drawing the sweetest melodies 
 from its strings. Overwhelmed by the charm 
 of its tunes, they sank at her feet, confessing 
 that they were not merchants, but inhabitants 
 of Paradise, the genii of the winds and 
 the waves; and entreated her to choose be- 
 tween them, and to decide their fate, as the 
 temporary felicity of her love was preferable 
 to the eternal bliss of the garden of Eden. 
 Anahid smiled incredulously, and said : " Fools ! 
 do you believe you deceive me with such 
 assertions? If you really are those, whom 
 you pretend to be, you must know the myste- 
 rious name which opens the gate of Paradise, 
 and if one of you really loves me, he will tell 
 me that name as a token of his affection." 
 
 She hardly had finished, when the genii, each 
 trembling lest his companion should anticipate 
 him, pronounced hastily the mysterious name. 
 Anahid repeated it, and disappeared from before 
 the eyes of Harut and Marut. "With the lyre 
 on her arms, she was carried to heaven, where 
 
THE MAID AXD THE* GENII. 97 
 
 Allah adorned her lofty brow with the morning 
 star, and appointed her to lead the music of 
 the spheres, and the dance of the stars. 
 
 The Genii, astonished at the maiden 's disap- 
 pearance, desired to follow her, but they had for- 
 gotten the word which, until now, had raised 
 them from the ground: their power of flight 
 was lost ; they were bound to the earth. 
 
 Hereupon they remembered the words of 
 the angel with the flaming sword; but it 
 was too late. Then they felt the weight of 
 their sin, and bowed before the decree of 
 Allah; they repented, and prayed for the de- 
 served punishment. And God gave them the 
 choice to expiate their wrong either in time or 
 in eternity ; so they chose time. And Azael, 
 the angel of death, approached them, and 
 silently led them to Babylon, and tied them 
 with chains, and hung them up there in two 
 wells, with their heads below, and their feet 
 above ; and he rolled a huge rock on the mouth 
 of each of the wells, and put on it the seal of the 
 wise Suleiman. 
 
98 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 There they hang, both Harut and Marut, 
 in solitary darkness for thousands of years, 
 and expect the Day of Judgment, which is to 
 redeem them. 
 
 But the winds, and the waves, no longer 
 restrained and directed by the Genii, have ever 
 since been unruly and stormful all over the 
 world. 
 
 
ASHMODAI, THE LAME DEMON. 
 
 ACCORDING to the doctrine of the Kabbis, 
 God created ten things on Friday in the twi- 
 light after the heavens and the earth were 
 finished: The devil, the rainbow, the manna, 
 the tables of the ten commandments, the rod of 
 Moses, the water from the rock, the pillar of 
 cloud that led the people through the wilder- 
 ness (such is the strange doctrine of the 
 Talmud), and the worm Shamir, with which 
 Moses engraved the name of Jehovah on the 
 gems Urim and Thummim. 
 

 100 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 "When the wise Solomon began to build the 
 Temple, he required the worm Shamir to carve 
 the gems, but the chief of the devils, Ashmodai, 
 alone could procure the worm, as he only knew 
 where it was to be found. But how was the 
 King to bring Ashmodai within his power? 
 Solomon summoned the devils, and they con- 
 fessed that Ashmodai resided on a mountain, 
 where he had dug a cave, and had filled it 
 with water, and covered it with a stone, and had 
 sealed the stone. For he goes every day up to 
 Heaven, and studies there in the high school of 
 Heaven, and then he comes down to the earth 
 and learns in the schools of men. And when 
 he returns, he examines the seal, whether it is 
 damaged ; then he opens the cave, and drinks 
 from it, and covers it again with the stone, and 
 seals it, and goes away. 
 
 King Solomon, therefore, sent Benaiah, the 
 son of Jehoida, to the mountain, and provided 
 him with fetters, on which the name of Jehovah 
 was engraved, and with a sealing-ring, also 
 bearing the name of Jehovah, and with a bale 
 
THE LAME DEMON. 101 
 
 of wool, and two goat-skins of the best wine. 
 Benaiah soon found the cave of Ashmodai, and 
 made a hole under it, by which all the water 
 ran out; he then stopped the hole with the 
 wool, and made a hole above, and through it 
 poured the wine into the cave. He then stopped 
 this hole too, climbed up a tree, and waited the 
 result. 
 
 When Ashmodai now came and examined 
 the seal, and found it unimpaired, he lifted the 
 stone from the cave. Things looked to him 
 somewhat suspicious, but he was thirsty, and 
 made up his mind to drink ; so he intoxicated 
 himself and fell asleep. 
 
 Then Benaiah descended from the tree and 
 enchained the devil, and sealed the lock of the 
 fetters with the name of Jehovah. 
 
 When Ashmodai awoke, he tore the chains 
 with rage; but Benaiah, the son of Jehoiada, 
 spoke to him : " The name of thy Lord is 
 upon thee ; the name- of thy Lord is upon 
 theel" 
 
102 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 And AsTimodai saw that lie could not resist, 
 and gave himself up to be led with the chain 
 by Benaiah ; but on the way he spitefully over- 
 threw everything he met first a palm-tree, 
 then a large palace, at last the low hut of a 
 poor widow. When he began to upset this, 
 the poor woman entreated his mercy,' and 
 Ashmodai felt pity for her, and supported with 
 his foot the walls already sinking. The hut 
 remained erect, but the devil's leg broke, and 
 he is lame ever since, as the doctors badly healed 
 the fracture. 
 
 "When he arrived at the court of Solomon 
 he was. kept waiting for two days, but on the 
 third he was admitted to the presence of the 
 King. And Ashmodai took a cloth-yard, and 
 measured four yards on the ground, and said to 
 Solomon : 
 
 " When thou art dead, this and no farther is 
 the whole length of thy realm. Such will be 
 the extreme limits of 'thy tomb. And now, 
 when thou hast subdued the whole earth, thou 
 
THE LAME DEMON. 103 
 
 art not satisfied, but desirest to extend thy 
 conquests to the world of spirits, and hast 
 brought me into thy power. Say, therefore, 
 what now dost thou want ?" 
 
 Solomon replied : " Nothing do I want 
 from thee, save that thou get for me the worm 
 Shamir, which I need for the carving of the 
 Temple." 
 
 "It is not in my power," replied Ashmodai ; 
 "it is with the Lord of the Sea, and he gives 
 it to no one but to the woodcock, who is his 
 faithful client, and is bound to him by an 
 oath." 
 
 " And what does the woodcock with the worm 
 Shamir?" 
 
 " He carries it into the mountains, where 
 grow neither trees nor grass, and breaks open 
 the rocks, and sows seeds in the clefts, so that 
 trees and grass shoot forth ; therefore the wood- 
 cock is likewise called Nakkar Tura, l the sculptor 
 of the rock.' 7 ' 
 
 Benaiah was now sent again, and he found 
 
104 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 the home of the woodcock, and he covered with 
 a glass the nest where the chickens of the wood- 
 cock lay. And when the woodcock flew to his 
 young ones, he could not get to them on account 
 of the glass. He therefore flew away, and 
 fetched the worm Shamir to burst the glass. 
 
 When the woodcock appeared with "the worm 
 Shamir, Benaiah cried aloud; the frightened 
 woodcock dropped the worm ; Benaiah suddenly 
 snatched it up, and carried it off with him. 
 Then the woodcock fell into despair and hanged 
 himself, because he had broken his oath. 
 
 The King now continued the erection of th& 
 Temple, with the aid of Shamir, Ashmodai, and 
 the other spirits subjected to Solomon, for all 
 the devils submitted to his commands. Once 
 only was he outwitted, when he had put this 
 question to Ashmodai : 
 
 " Tell me wherein are the devils more power- 
 ful than men if we, notwithstanding, rule over 
 you?" 
 
 The devil replied : 
 
THE LAME DEMON. 105 
 
 " Take the fetters off my feet and my hand, 
 and give me for a moment thy ring, with the 
 awful name, and thou shalt see." 
 
 Then the King granted this request, but no 
 sooner had he had him unfettered and handed 
 over to him the ring, than Ashmodai carried the 
 King through the air four hundred miles into 
 the wilderness, and himself assumed the shape 
 of Solomon, and sat on his throne, and governed 
 the Jews, and no one noticed that he was not 
 the real Solomon. But from that time the 
 erection of the temple was discontinued, the 
 Rabbis got no more presents from the King, 
 and they became aware that the devil's hand 
 was in it. And it came to their minds that the 
 King never permitted his shoes to be taken off 
 by the chamberlain, and they therefore strewed 
 flour and ashes before his bed on the floor, and 
 in the morning, after the King had got up, they 
 perceived the traces of the devil's foot. Seeing 
 this, they began to pray, and prayed until their 
 prayers recalled Solomon from the wilderness, 
 where he had till then lived in repentance and 
 
106 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 mourning, and placed him once more on the 
 legitimate throne of Israel. But Ashmodai fled 
 at the approach of Solomon, fearing to be fet- 
 tered again. 
 
THE NUN OF KAUSCHENBACH. 
 
 THE village of Kauschenbach, in the county 
 of Zipsen, well known in Hungary for its 
 mineral springs, is situated at the foot of a 
 mountain of the chalk formation pierced by 
 numerous caverns. The country around is 
 unfertile; no fruit-tree grows on the green 
 but treacherous sod, which covers a marshy 
 ground. When the wanderer approaches the 
 hot spring, his steps resound on the soil, 
 and his ear is caught by the rushing of sub- 
 terranean waters, which give name to the 
 place.* He sees everywhere manifold petri- 
 
 * Rauschenbach means in German rushing brook. 
 
108 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGAKY, 
 
 factions; whatever falls into the boiling foun- 
 tain is covered with, a crust of lime and turned 
 into stone. Thus are water-lilies and reeds 
 interlaced in the most varied forms, and but- 
 terflies and beetles, attracted by the beautiful 
 plants, partake their fate. Life does not seem 
 extinct, but spell -bound in the delicate incrus- 
 tations. 
 
 The hot element, breaking violently, through 
 the earth, in a short time moulds a gigantic 
 stone basin by the continuous precipitation 
 of chalk. In the midst of the boiling waters 
 which fill the basin, bubbles of gas incessantly 
 gurgle and splutter until the deposit of chalk 
 obstructs the free passage of the waters, 
 which are thus forced to seek elsewhere an 
 unimpeded course, and to form a new shelf in a 
 lower part of the mountain. 
 
 This process has been carried on for cen- 
 turies. Many an empty cauldron of this kind 
 gives evidence of the incessant activity of the 
 spring. The most remarkable, and probably 
 the most ancient of these basins, is close to 
 
THE NUN. 109 
 
 the tog of the mountain ; it is half-filled with 
 lurid water, from which, especially in the morn- 
 ing, and after rain, such quantities of carbonic 
 acid gas are exhaled, that the whirling crowds 
 of insects, which alone in this dreary atmo- 
 sphere dance around, fall drowsily to the ground, 
 followed by lizards, frogs, and birds, who, pur- 
 suing their prey with too much avidity, are, 
 like them, often poisoned by the deadly exhala- 
 tions. 
 
 The legend tells, that a health-endowing 
 spring once gushed in this basin, now filled by 
 the murky pool which benumbs the very air. 
 At that time a nunnery stood in this neighbour- 
 hood ; it was raised on the mountain overlook- 
 ing the country around. 
 
 One summer morning one of the young 
 sisters was descending towards the valley ; she 
 had been called to attend a sick peasant woman, 
 and while hastening to the fulfilment of her 
 duty, she little heeded the charms of nature 
 which spread all around her. She looked down 
 
110 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 on the rosary she held in her hand : one pearl 
 after the other slipped through her fingers, and 
 marked the prayer her lips repeated with 
 accustomed devotion, until she reached the 
 humble hut where her nursing care was ex- 
 pected. It was evening before she had fulfilled 
 her pious duty, and retraced her path to the 
 cloister. She was tired; the cool transparency 
 of the mineral spring attracted her attention. 
 Everything around was silent, yet eloquent with 
 the charms of nature. The sky was of clear 
 blue, and the summer clouds, tinged rosy by 
 the purple and gold of the sinking sun, were 
 drifting on the mirror of the fountain, which 
 was limpid and bright as heaven itself. The 
 young nun longed to dive into the waveless 
 surface. No step was to be heard, no eye could 
 detect her; she gently lifted her veil, laid down 
 her garment on the meadow, and descended 
 slowly into the rocky recess, where the waters 
 pressed around her. 
 
 The whistle of the shepherd, the bell of the 
 
THE NUN. Ill 
 
 returning herds, the cheerful songs of the 
 peasant girls and boys who came from the 
 fields, sounded up from the distant valley 
 which the shade of the mountain covered. 
 All was silent again ; the young nun felt 
 emotions bewildering her secluded heart. She 
 felt as if sighs of longing and love escaped the 
 balmy breath of earth. She had spent the day 
 at the couch of an old mother who, surrounded 
 by her weeping sons, daughters, grand-children, 
 and their flaxen-haired boys and girls, had 
 calmly breathed her last. She had blessed her 
 family, had affectionately seized the hand of the 
 old man who had led her through so many 
 years of toil and of joy, and thanked heaven that 
 her companion stood by her in death as he had 
 done during life. The old man had pressed to 
 his heart the hand of his dying wife, and when 
 he had closed her eyes, he said : "I follow you 
 soon." 
 
 The hut was poor, yet the young man could 
 see that the old mother whom she had nursed, 
 
112 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 and with whom she' had prayed, had been 
 blessed by the full measure of earthly felicity : 
 a life of work and toil, vigorous children who 
 tenderly looked up to her, an affectionate hus- 
 band, whose cares she readily shared, whose 
 whims she ever smilingly met. Their love had 
 outlasted time. 
 
 The mind of the sister had been impressed 
 by this inartificial happiness, and now all around 
 seemed to repeat the simple tale of love and 
 enjoyment, and to sympathize with her own 
 feelings and thoughts. Birds, sailing through 
 the wide ocean of air, glided to their nests, and 
 warbled aloud as if to apprise their brood that 
 they approached. The cricket chirped in the 
 luxuriant grass, the humming of honey-loaded 
 bees, blended into a pleasant concert with the 
 monotonous tune of the cuckoo, and the melody 
 of the nightingale. Bushes and flowers seemed 
 in sweet repose to listen and smile, when 
 the parting sun threw the golden veil of 
 his last rays over blossoms and leaves, as if 
 
THE NUN. 113 
 
 to protect them from the chill of the 
 night. 
 
 The young nun sorrowfully felt her isolation 
 from the sympathies alive all over nature, and 
 bitterly felt the weight of her vows which re- 
 pressed her feelings into cold solitude. Her 
 eye filled with tears, her heart with longing; 
 she repented the oath which shut her out of 
 the beautiful world, to tread the dreary path of 
 seclusion, a stranger to all but the walls of the 
 cloister, which always recalled to her mind the 
 premature sacrifice. 
 
 But hardly had the sinful thought escaped 
 her bosom, when all darkened around. The 
 storm raged fiercely, clouds of dust blinded her 
 eye, the water began to . swell, subterraneous 
 thunder rolled, lightning broke forth, the soil 
 trembled, the nun fainted. 
 
 On the subsequent morrow she was missed, 
 and was everywhere sought for, but in vain : 
 she had disappeared. The torn veil, attached 
 to a withered bush of eglantine, was the only 
 trace left. But the clear spring of health had 
 
114 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 also dried up, and poisonous exhalations alone 
 streamed from the foul water in the half-empty 
 chalk-basin, and excited in the mind of the 
 frightened sisterhood the sinister belief in a 
 mysterious crime. 
 
THE CLOISTEE OF MANASTIR 
 
 FIVE hundred years ago a large forest ex- 
 tended all over the mountains of Zemplin, 
 where now stands Manastir, the Basilite 
 cloister. 
 
 But the dark woods of pines, varied by birch- 
 copses, or by the stately beech, were not lonely ; 
 sick and paralytic people thronged from every 
 direction to the crystal well, which streamed 
 forth under a rock, overgrown by mosses, and 
 surrounded by trees of a past age. Hundreds 
 of wealthy men owed their health to the forest- 
 spring; but when they recovered, they soon 
 forgot the benefit they had received, and no one 
 
116 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 thought of raising a pious monument of 
 gratitude. 
 
 Once a blind beggar came and bathed in the 
 waters. Their mysterious virtue restored his 
 sight, and what the rich had neglected to do, 
 the beggar performed. Out of the alms which 
 in long years of privation he had collected, he 
 erected a chapel at the fountain, and conse- 
 crated it to his patron Saint Basil. The inhabit- 
 ants of the neighbourhood thus reminded of 
 their duty, went thither in pilgrimage every 
 year on the anniversary of the Saint, to celebrate 
 mass, to surround the sacred images with gar- 
 lands, and to offer a wax candle before the 
 altar, in sign of thankful devotion. 
 
 These processions yearly increased in length 
 and splendour. With flowing standards and 
 loud songs, the cross carried by a monk who 
 preceded them, hundreds and hundreds thronged 
 to the chapel at the fountain. The monk 
 blessed the well; on this day every one of the 
 faithful then filled the rim of his hat with the 
 water and drank it ; he knelt down on the steps 
 
THE CLOISTER OF MAN ASTIR. 117 
 
 of the chapel, uttered his prayer, flung a coin to 
 the altar through the bars of the sanctuary, 
 and again joined the procession, to return with 
 the same solemnity. 
 
 The lord of this neighbourhood, Yendelin 
 Drugeth, was an imperious man who lived only 
 for reckless enjoyment. Eegardless of Sundays 
 and holidays, he and his companions hunted the 
 stag, or tracked the boar all the year long. On 
 one of these occasions the bugle sounded 
 through the woods, and "Vendelin Drugeth 
 appeared, riding his steed at the head of a 
 merry company, after a day of lucky sport. 
 The horses were covered with sweat, as they 
 toiled along under the burden of the carcases 
 of deer, trailing over their backs. The field- 
 bags of the sportsmen showed the long ears or 
 feet of hares, and the dogs followed barking and 
 w r hining. Vendelin had just left the outskirts 
 of the forest, leading to the meadows which 
 were watered by the spring, when the festival 
 procession turned round the corner of the 
 chapel, and the multitude struck up the hymn 
 
118 POPULAK TALES OF HUNGAKY. 
 
 to Saint Basil. The high-flowing standards 
 and the loud song, which suddenly burst forth, 
 frightened the steed of Drugeth, so that it 
 sprang aside and reared on its hind-feet. The 
 bold horseman pressed his spurs sharply into 
 the animal's flanks ; but, only the more bewil- 
 dered, it fell backwards and crushed its master 
 under its weight. The arm of Drugeth was 
 broken. 
 
 Infuriated at such a welcome, with bitter 
 imprecations he gave orders to disperse the 
 procession, and to pull down the chapel. The 
 people fled, with hatred in their hearts, 
 and complaints on their lips; but the chapel 
 of the blind beggar was razed to the ground. 
 
 Though supporting himself with difficulty, 
 the Baron fiercely whipped up his steed, had his 
 arm loosely tied up, and rode home, where his 
 bruised limb was dressed and nursed by the 
 most experienced old woman, who applied herbs 
 of unquestionable efficacy. Yet the broken 
 bone did not join, the wound remained unhealed, 
 and grew sore and inflamed. The great man at 
 
THE CLOISTER OF MANASTIB. 119 
 
 / 
 
 first was fretful, then swore and cursed the pro- 
 cession, but soon after was seized by panic, and 
 sent far and wide for advice. But the skill of 
 the most renowned surgeons was here unsuccess- 
 ful ; human knowledge seemed to be insufficient, 
 and Drugeth saw that his days on earth were 
 numbered. 
 
 It was a cheerless night, the wind blew strong, 
 thick flakes of snow covered the pathless valley ; 
 the deep windows of the castle were bedimmed 
 by ice, the candles feebly flickered within the 
 manor, which was silent and gloomy, as its lonely 
 master. Unexpectedly the bell rang at the iron 
 gate, the barking of dogs answered, but was 
 silenced by the huntsman, who, leaving the hall 
 with a lantern in his hand, went to open to the 
 stranger. An aged Misericordian claimed hos- 
 pitality. The tin-box at his leather girdle marked 
 out his vocation, for he had been rambling about 
 the neighbourhood to collect pious gifts for the 
 cloister. He was shown to one of the spacious 
 rooms in the ground floor, ever ready for the 
 reception of strangers. Abundance of wood 
 
120 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 soon crackled in the high, chimney, wine and 
 bread were put on the table, and the curtained 
 bed was uncovered for rest. A savoury supper 
 of pickled cabbage, ham, fouls, dry cakes, and 
 preserved fruits was served in the hall ; the 
 steward attended the meal, freely partook of the 
 bottle, and at length, when warmed by it, related 
 to the guest how merry the castle had been until 
 the wild conduct of their lord (here the steward 
 crossed himself) had been justly punished. Yet, 
 he continued, it is sad to see a man in his very 
 best years of enjoyment helplessly laid up on a 
 pillow of suffering; a man so wealthy to die 
 without children, all his property to go to un- 
 known heirs. Poor master ! the sound of the 
 hunting horn will no more rejoice his ear, he 
 will soon be gone. 
 
 " Would he not see me ?" inquired the 
 friar. 
 
 " He never was fond of devout ways, and 
 long prayers," replied the steward, "and since 
 his sad accident, he hates the friar's frock. Yet 
 his strength is broken, and in the hours of 
 
THE CLOISTER OF MANASTIE. 121 
 
 sleepless pain lie will perhaps not object to the 
 consolation of a holy father." 
 
 Next morning the friar was introduced to 
 the lord of the manor. Vendelin was glad 
 of his presence, and though without great hopes 
 of recovery, attentively listened while the friar 
 spoke of the grace of God, and the miracles often 
 performed upon sinners. 
 
 " Providence has granted thee, my son," the 
 Misericordian said, " a source of health in thy 
 neighbourhood. The blessed spring of the 
 forest, ever mild and healing, may impart to 
 thee new vigour." 
 
 " Never to me," Drugeth despondingly ob- 
 jected ; "my health is gone by my own fault. 
 No marvel will be wrought for me." 
 
 " Trust and try," replied the Misericor- 
 dian. 
 
 " No, no," interrupted the sick man ; " for 
 me there is no help for me no hope. I have 
 never relied upon any but myself. I mani- 
 fested this at the spring, and now the curse of 
 profanation rests upon me." 
 6 
 
122 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 " My son, the All wise often comforts the 
 sinner by the very means which have served to 
 chastise him. Humble thy heart, and thou shalt 
 be comforted." 
 
 The sun shone bright. Drugeth was care- 
 fully lifted from the bed, to which he had been 
 confined for months, and was laid on a couch, 
 covered with sheep-skin. Four huntsmen sup- 
 ported it, and attended by the monk, Vendelin 
 was conveyed through the court of his manor. 
 The dogs sprang joyfully up at the unwonted 
 sight of their master ; they wagged their tails, 
 and followed the retinue. It moved through 
 the woods; the snow on the ground crunched 
 under the heavy boots of the huntsmen ; the 
 hanging combs of the tufted larches strongly 
 contrasted with their horizontal boughs, bur- 
 dened by shining masses of snow. The branches 
 of beech and oak sparkled from afar with 
 myriads of icy crystals, reflecting the rays of 
 the sun. The silence of the woods was only 
 interrupted by the distant howling of wolves, 
 or by the occasional sounds of crashing, when 
 
THE CLOISTER OF MANASTIR. 123 
 
 the sturdiest branches of trees were rent by 
 the violence of the frost. Over slippery rock 
 and through thickets, the men slowly reached 
 the spring, which alone fostered life and vegeta- 
 tion, in a region, where nature was benumbed 
 by. winter. Whilst everywhere else the 
 beauty which adorns the mild seasons had 
 been swept away, and left no trace, yet 
 mosses, fresh herbs, and green leaves greeted 
 the eye, wherever streamlets of the warm spring 
 bedewed the rock or the sod ; spring seemed to 
 have marked out that lovely spot for its place 
 of rest. 
 
 Here they set down the couch on which lay 
 the invalid, colourless, with oppressed breath 
 and faint heart. The attendants retired, the 
 friar knelt beside the helpless man, and devoutly 
 listened to the confession pronounced in low 
 accents. He then crossed himself, stretched 
 his arms to heaven, joined his hands and put 
 them on the head of the penitent, whispering a 
 short prayer. Turning to the spring, he re- 
 
124 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 peated the. pious invocation. The huntsmen, 
 who meanwhile had knelt down, approached 
 when the Misericordian beckoned them. They 
 gently lifted Drugeth, unfastened his fur, untied 
 the leathern doublet, and dipped the suffering 
 arm into the waters of the well. Vendelin felt 
 as if new vigour streamed into the limb ; the 
 bone was joined; he was healed. 
 
 But the miracle had not only restored health 
 to his body, his mind too was changed ; he 
 resolved to live a new life. 
 
 "When April had melted the snow in the 
 mountains, and the stems of the forest put forth 
 new buds, he erected a church on the spot 
 where the chapel once stood, which by his 
 arbitrary order had been pulled down ; and at 
 the side of the church he founded a Basilite 
 cloister, in which he himself entered as lay- 
 brother. His devotion and Christian virtues 
 soon raised him to the dignity of abbot in the 
 monastery, to which he bequeathed all his pro- 
 perty. The cloister enjoys down to this day 
 
THE CLOISTER OF MANASTIB. 125 
 
 the fruits of the liberality of Vendelin Drugeth ; 
 but the spring of the forest, with all its beauty 
 and its marvels, in the course of time has 
 disappeared. 
 
PA1ST TWAEDOWSKY: 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE DEMON OUTWITTED. 
 
 THE tale of Pan Tw&rdowsky is more Polish 
 than Hungarian, but I have heard it told in 
 Hungary with several variations, imparting to it 
 a totally different character. 
 
 Pan Twardowsky was a wise man. He 
 could assign a cause for whatever happened, 
 and always pointed out precisely how things 
 should have been done. No cow ever fell 
 without the Pan saying why it had come to 
 mischief; could the animal have consulted him, 
 it was sure to have been saved. He knew 
 
PAN TWARDOWSKY. 127 
 
 every disease by description ; and could his 
 advice only have arrived in time, or could the 
 patient have conformed to the diet he pre- 
 scribed, no man would have died in our coun- 
 try, and more Hungarians would people the 
 earth than stars the skies. His deep learning 
 excited his presumptuous pride. He often, 
 for pastime, summoned the enemy of mankind, 
 and disputed with him about topics too com- 
 plicated for the intellect of human creatures. 
 At last, the Pan thought he was more clever 
 than the devil himself; and when the cloven- 
 footed gentleman offered to serve him, if he 
 pledged his soul, he gladly subscribed the 
 agreement, convinced that he would easily 
 outwit his partner. The compact laid down : 
 
 "That the Pan should be the absolute 
 master of his attendant ; and that the latter 
 should nowhere, but in Eome, claim the soul 
 pledged for his service." 
 
 The Pan was no easy master. He took 
 no rest day or night, travelling from north 
 to south, and investigating everywhere the 
 
128 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 undiscovered causes of all which, he saw, 
 heard, or fancied. He had the ambition to 
 be appreciated according to his merit, and to 
 occupy an exalted station in society, not being 
 satisfied to be courted solely for the riches 
 he lavished and despised. This, however, 
 proved the more difficult, as after all he was 
 but a doctor ; and the devil himself could not 
 get him what he most ardently desired a 
 noble pedigree. 
 
 Yes, he was subjected to taxation and to 
 military service ; and though his gold easily 
 boiight him a substitute, and his purse grew 
 no lighter by the contribution, he still knew 
 that he was not entitled by birth to the privi- 
 leges, which his coachman possessed, who was 
 of noble origin; and that the -title of "Your 
 Honour," with which he used to be addressed, 
 was granted to his dress, but was not his by 
 right. 
 
 Though wherever he stayed his officious 
 attendant established a house for him in the 
 most costly taste, provided it with the best 
 
PAN TWARDOWSKY. 129 
 
 table, and disposed gold-tasselled hussars be- 
 hind every chair, yet he was far from being 
 contented. Our Pan had no manor; no 
 peasants to command; his bread did not 
 grow on his own fields; he had no herds as 
 the patriarchs of ancient times ; no park with 
 ancient trees planted by his predecessors ; no 
 long rows of ancestral portraits in his hall. 
 But these privations were yet trifling in com- 
 parison with all the humiliations he had to 
 undergo in town, where he sought fashionable 
 society. He one day ordered his red-haired 
 companion to take him to Court, and to get 
 him a wife of illustrious birth; nothing was 
 easier, he thought, for one initiated into all 
 circles of high-life, as the devil professed to 
 be. Now, however, when forced to comply 
 with that desire, he shrugged his shoulders, 
 and grinned so despisingly, that the blood rose 
 to the very nails of the Pan, and boiled in 
 the tops of his fingers ; recollecting, however, 
 that it would be ungentlemanlike to express 
 his feelings with his hands and tongue, lie 
 6* 
 
130 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 took his long pipe, lighted it, and vented his 
 humour in clouds of smoke. 
 
 They went to Vienna, where the Queen held 
 her. Court. The renowned Hungarian doctor, 
 with his secretary, who dispensed the munifi- 
 cent gifts of his master to the poor, and praised 
 in every quarter the unparalleled wealth and 
 wisdom of his Pan Twardowsky, attracted 
 general attention. A doctor who took no fee 
 but distributed princely alms ; who courted no 
 patient, but never refused advice; a doctor 
 whose very secretary had not only the sem- 
 blance of a cavalier, but even refused the silver 
 and gold of those anxious to get access to the 
 doctor ; so i are a personage could not fail to 
 become a chief lion of the day. He was 
 honoured with a summons to a high dignitary, 
 and was lucky enough to alleviate an inve- 
 terate indigestion ; this got him an introduc- 
 tion to her Majesty's great chamberlain, so 
 he was presented at the first drawing-room^ 
 and got an invitation to the next ball at 
 Court. 
 
PAN TWARDOWSKY. 131 
 
 With a sword at his side, and a powdered 
 wig, in a stately coach drawn by four richly 
 caparisoned horses, the Pan almost forgot that 
 he had no pedigree. But when he entered 
 the dancing-hall, where a crowd of high-born 
 damsels appeared to his dazzled sight, he felt 
 so humbled that he hardly dared advance ; and 
 when her Majesty herself beckoned him to 
 join the dance with one of the ladies, he obeyed 
 without ever venturing to raise his eyes or to 
 move his lips. He would have been grievously 
 embarrassed to say whether his partner was 
 sloe or beetle-eyed ;* that she was noble, he 
 knew. What more could he wish to inquire? 
 And when the Queen approached, and said : 
 u I see you are delighted with your partner. 
 I must assist your timidity, and propose for 
 you," he was overwhelmed with the honour, and 
 soon celebrated with great festivity his brilliant 
 marriage. 
 
 The lady was no longer a child. Her coun- 
 
 * Hungarian expression for blue and black eyes. 
 
132 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 tenance even made it difficult to fancy that she 
 ever had been a child. Her mature judgment 
 made her fully aware of the great sacrifice she 
 had made in accepting the millionnaire fortune 
 of the Pan, and himself in the bargain. He 
 never could become chamberlain he never 
 could be admitted to the small parties of the 
 illustrious circles, where only the most exclu- 
 sive of the exclusives found their place-; and 
 the lady, now vulgarly called Panna Twardow- 
 ska, was excluded from familiar intercourse 
 with the persons who alone constituted " So- 
 ciety." Could she accustom herself to any 
 other atmosphere ? 
 
 This she often enough repeated to her 
 humbled consort, who was so fully convinced 
 of her pretensions, that he most patiently bore 
 her contempt, which was seldom mitigated by 
 the sunshine of lofty compassion. 
 
 The Pan applied to his familiar spirit for 
 advice to remedy the depression of his spirits, 
 which made him, as he confessed, completely 
 insensible to the charms of his noble wife. 
 
PAN TWAHDOWSKY. 133 
 
 He was ill, no doubt, said lie, as his high-born 
 companion herself appeared insupportable to 
 him. His familiar spared no trouble to im- 
 prove the nervous system of the Pan, whose 
 perception was so sadly disturbed. He made 
 him renounce the practice of his art, and re- 
 frain from study ; public amusements, music 
 and dance, races, picture-galleries, and museums 
 were visited : in vain. An ancient palace was 
 purchased from a family of great name and 
 ruined fortune. No expense was spared to 
 adapt the old building to the modern fashion. 
 The tedious uniformity of the classical style 
 was corrected ; Gothic arches were decorated 
 d la renaissance, and the grey walls ornamented 
 with the gaudiest productions of modern art 
 and foreign manufacture. No cheap article 
 was tolerated ; nothing but what was costly and 
 gorgeous seemed worth having. 
 
 The hills were transformed into gardens ; 
 champagne flowed in fountains ; music bands 
 deafened one another : all the world was in- 
 vited. The world was enchanted. The gentle- 
 
134 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 men titled and untitled, presented themselves 
 at the Panna's. She was a distinguished 
 woman, who had amazingly improved since 
 her marriage wonderfully, indeed, considering 
 her mesalliance. The canonesses, with whom 
 she had been intimate in her former days, 
 accepted her carriage-and-four, and honoured 
 her parties with their company, and even 
 acknowledged the Pan with a gracious nod. 
 Though but a doctor, he was tolerated in the 
 drawing-room of his wife. He did not exer- 
 cise his profession; he earned not his liveli- 
 hood by labour ; and, therefore, on the score 
 of his wealth, an indulgent judgment might 
 be passed, and he might be treated as a gentle- 
 man. 
 
 Intoxicating himself in this success, he 
 silenced the yearning of his heart, which whis- 
 pered " a pedigree." He spent his nights in 
 amusement, his mornings in calls, his after- 
 noons in dinners, his evenings in the theatre, 
 where the fashionables used to chew the cud 
 on their dinner and to yawn ; yet he him- 
 
PAN TWARPOWSKY. 135 
 
 self could not get rid of some interest in the 
 performance, and even forgot himself so far as 
 to whisper to the Panna, and request her to 
 lower her voice a little in her animated dis- 
 cussion with Baroness Fifi, about the milliner 
 of Princess Mimi, as he was anxious not to 
 lose a word of Hamlet's " to be or not to be." 
 
 This high-treason against " good-breeding' 7 
 condemned the unfortunate Pan to the forfeiture of 
 his seat in the box of his wife. He was banished 
 to a stall. There he sat one evening, all eye 
 and all ear to the heroes and heroines, when 
 suddenly his powdered wig was blown down 
 from his head as if by magic, and when he 
 turned round, in utter amazement, he saw the 
 wand which had struck him in form of a large 
 green fan, in the hands of an old Countess- 
 dowager, who leaned behind him in the box 
 elbowing his stall, No. 1. 
 
 The conversation he then heard completed 
 his horror ; the old dame said : " The insolent 
 fellow hindered me seeing whether your Prince, 
 my dear, was at his post.' ? 
 
136 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGABY. 
 
 " Your Ladyship served. the man right," was 
 the younger lady's reply. " Who can he be ? 
 He bowed when he entered the house." 
 
 "Some barbarous-named parvenu, surgeon, or 
 barber, who has amassed money by his quacking. 
 He was mentioned to me when my pet dog had 
 hurt its foot. Such people, of no family, dare 
 to obstruct our view 1" 
 
 The Pan did not wait for his carriage ; he ran 
 home, breathlessly ordered everything to be packed 
 in readiness for instant departure, and issued 
 the same order even to the Panna, in a tone so 
 strange, that for the first time since her mar- 
 riage, she complied without objection, and vio- 
 lently shutting the door, he muttered to himself 
 the sole words : " all is lost I" 
 
 No one, however, understood this significant 
 phrase, but lanko, the old faithful servant of 
 the Pan, who, though very sulky since the club- 
 footed secretary had supplanted him, yet pre- 
 served the most sincere attachment for his good 
 master, whom as a child he had carried in his 
 arms, singing him to sleep with pious lulla- 
 
FAN TWARDOWSKY. 137 
 
 bies, and accustomed to watch his very emo- 
 tions. 
 
 "My poor master," objected faithful lanko, 
 "do calm yourself; you are not fit for the 
 excited life you lead, surrounded by a host of 
 guests and festivities. Let us two return to 
 our country ; leave the Panna to the care of our 
 mysterious companion ; you have had enough of 
 both." 
 
 But the grinning secretary knocked already 
 at the door, and presenting himself with a devout 
 mien, inquired for orders. His appearance 
 rekindled, as a flash of lightning, the half- 
 choked passion of the Pan. 
 
 " Get me a pedigree I must have one !" he 
 peremptorily exclaimed. The devil bowed, and 
 turned upon his heel. The carriage stood at 
 the gate, the postillion blew his horn ; but no 
 one could penetrate to the Pan he was locked 
 up in his room. He remained invisible for two 
 days and two nights. lanko went restlessly to 
 and fro, listened at the door, but heard only 
 hurriedly interrupted steps, intermixed with 
 
138 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 deep sighs. He at last distinguished the 
 sonorous voice of his master, and the cutting 
 accents of the mysterious valet. 
 
 " You have got it at last, 7 ' said the former. 
 
 "No doubt," retorted the other; " and as 
 long a one as any in the archives of the King 
 of arms. You are derived, from King Svato- 
 pluk himself, by the cousin of his cousin in the 
 fourth degree. Nothing can be more clearly 
 established than your titles, and I dare say the 
 Panna herself will be satisfied." 
 
 "Well, well," the Pan impatiently interrupted, 
 " do not now make a fuss about it ; we shall 
 lock up that paper, and use it only in urgent 
 cases ; no necessity whatever to press upon any- 
 body the evidence of our rights." 
 
 The devil scornfully laughed; he was de- 
 lighted that "the Pan, in the very moment when 
 he got possession of his forged pedigree, had 
 already learned to speak with aristocratic dig- 
 nity of his rights. But poor lanko turned 
 red, like a lobster, when he heard that his 
 master abased himself to an imposture. 
 
PAN TWAEDOWSKY. 139 
 
 On the subsequent morning the Pan waited 
 upon his lady, and asked if she would be ready 
 to set out at noon on their journey. But it 
 seems that the Panna was no shrew to be tamed 
 by whims; for since her consort had, without 
 any obvious cause, insisted upon a speedy de- 
 parture, and then had delayed it, though she 
 had been frightened into compliance, she now 
 was fully determined to remain in Vienna, in 
 spite of the contrary wishes of her husband. 
 Not that she cared for it just at present, when 
 summer was approaching, and there soon would 
 be nobody in town ; but she never forgot, that 
 for once she had yielded to " terrorism," and 
 often remembered it in matrimonial conferences, 
 in which she acted as accuser and judge. 
 
 The Pan bowed to her sway in every respect, 
 except as to a prolongation of his stay in the 
 Austrian capital. He longed for his own 
 country the country of genuine hospitality, easy 
 tolerance, and warm-hearted patriotism ; where 
 every guest was welcomed as a relative, and every 
 relative as a brother. 
 
140 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 But the Panna did not long for the " barba- 
 rians." A compromise was made at last, a visit 
 to several capitals of Europe was to precede their 
 return to Hungary. 
 
 They travelled with great pomp and little 
 amusement: the Panna sought watering-places, 
 and drawing-rooms, but found nowhere the 
 abundance of Viennese entertainments. The 
 Pan longed for intellectual intercourse, but 
 shunned every new acquaintance as a possible 
 spy into his social position, and into the 
 mystery of his pedigree. This pressed on 
 his heart this haunted his sleep; he had a 
 pedigree ; but not only did his own conscience 
 reproach it with illegitimacy, his grinning com- 
 panion did it no less not by word, it is true, 
 but by every muscle of his hypocritical, insult- 
 ingly devout countenance. How the Pan hated 
 it how he hated the triumph in the sly glance 
 of approbation when the Panna spoke with 
 weariness of everything she had seen on her 
 journey, and mentioned Rome as the only place 
 she still cared to visit. 
 
TWAKDOWSKY. . 141 
 
 " No," the Pan desperately opposed " I 
 will not go to Rome, it will be my death ; the 
 malaria would kill us, I mean " 
 
 The Panna pointed to her head, and waved 
 her hand contemptuously, which plainly bespoke 
 what she thought of the wits of her lord. She 
 treated him accordingly, and made all necessary 
 preparations for a journey to Rome, without 
 taking the slightest notice of his protestations. 
 He knew by experience that contradiction acted 
 with his lady as a stimulant against his purpose, 
 and therefore left her to take her own choice, 
 setting out himself to Hungary by the shortest 
 way: 
 
 There he was heartily welcomed ; many were 
 glad of the return of the renowned doctor, who 
 had ever gratuitously attended the poor and the 
 sick. He had arrived in a town, where he in- 
 tended to spend some months in study and rest. 
 He read, and he wrote, and visited those who 
 required assistance. That he was not content, 
 and not as calm as^he appeared, lanko alone 
 noticed ; and shuddered, when in the midst of 
 
142 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 the night, he repeatedly heard altercations in the 
 room of his master, and distinguished the voice 
 of the malicious attendant in accents far from 
 submissive. 
 
 Once at dusk it was announced to the Pan, 
 that at the hotel a lady, who had given birth to 
 a child, was in imminent danger, and required 
 his attendance. He hastened to the bed of the 
 sick, but had hardly time to feel her pulse, when 
 he perceived at his side his evil companion, the 
 well-known contract in his hand, and on his -lips 
 the words : 
 
 " The condition is fulfilled, thou art mine. I 
 am no longer thy servant I" 
 
 The Pan glanced through the window, and 
 saw that the sign of the hotel was " The City of 
 Borne." Without a moment's hesitation, he 
 seized the innocent child, which had been sanc- 
 tified by baptism, and had as yet committed no 
 sin. With this burden in his arms, he prepared 
 to leave the room, well aware, that shielded by 
 the innocence of the child, he could reach the 
 street, where " out of Kome," the fiend had 
 
PAN TWARDOWSKY. 143 
 
 no more power over him. Yet lie stopped at 
 the threshold, and said : 
 
 "Thou seest, I am not so easily caught; I 
 have profited by thy example ; I know subter- 
 fuges as well as thyself. But I am sick of thy 
 company. Since, therefore, one of us must 
 yield the ground, let us once more measure our 
 wits. Wilt thou try a new compact, and let it 
 decide irrevocably? If thou canst fulfil three 
 more of my commands, I am thine ; but if 
 thou failst, thou must give me up, and I am 
 freed." 
 
 "Well," grinned the patron of mischief, who 
 saw his prey escaping out of his reach, " be it 
 thus : I agree." 
 
 The Pan returned to his house, which stood 
 opposite the spacious church. That very 
 night he summoned the devil, and commanded 
 that before dawn, a quarter of poppy should, 
 grain by grain, be nailed to the roof of the 
 cathedral* 
 
 Before the cock crowed, every one of the 
 grains of the poppy were attached with pointed 
 
144 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 pins to the roof. The Pan, who had not closed 
 his eyes, felt still less inclination to rest. He 
 saw that no physical difficulty was insurmount- 
 able to his attendant, and resolved to try another 
 expedient. 
 
 He therefore desired him to bathe instantly in 
 consecrated water. The * devil shuddered, but 
 transformed himself into a mouse, and sprang 
 into the vessel, filled with holy water, which 
 stood at the entrance of the church. The water 
 hissed and boiled as if glowing iron had been 
 thrown into it, and the mouse came forth severely 
 scalded, so that when the devil again adopted his 
 human semblance, he was covered with scars, 
 such as are occasioned by fire. 
 
 The Pan was driven to his last entrenchment : 
 but he did not despair. He was sure of his 
 triumph as he said : 
 
 " I command thee to live a whole year with 
 my dear consort, Panna Twardowsky, without 
 forsaking her for a single day." 
 
 " I to live a whole year with Panna Twar- 
 dowsky!" retorted the vanquished gentleman, 
 
PAN TWARDOWSKY. 145 
 
 chuckling. " No, I will rather return to hell with- 
 out thee. Keep your Panna and your soul ; I 
 cannot fulfil your command. An ill-tempered 
 woman is insupportable to the devil himself 1 " 
 
 The Polish version is different. It says : 
 
 When the Pan, with the innocent babe in his 
 arms, was on the point of escaping, the devil 
 saw that no chance was left for getting hold of 
 his prey, but to appeal to the honour of the Pan. 
 The subtle rogue therefore said : 
 
 " Domine Twardowsky, verbum nobile debet 
 esse stabile."* 
 
 This was more than the Pan could withstand : 
 the devil himself had recognised his nobility, 
 the most ardent desire of his heart was fulfilled, 
 he replaced the child in its cradle, and gave him- 
 self up. 
 
 lanko, the faithful servant, who ever followed 
 him, did not now abandon his master ; but 
 
 * The word of a nobleman must be kept. 
 7 
 
146 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 clung to the feet of the Pan, and was carried 
 along with him in storm-like rapidity through 
 the air. When they were already so far above 
 the clouds, that the earth appeared not bigger 
 than a nut-shell, the Pan began, to sing one of 
 the hymns, which in youth he had composed in 
 honour of the holy Virgin, and which after many 
 years, for the first time again struck his memory. 
 When the pious tunes and the sacred names 
 were uttered, the devil lost his power and fled. 
 The Pan and his faithful lanko remained sus- 
 pended in the air, and are to remain there, until 
 the great day of judgment is to come, and 
 Unity and Justice shall reign upon earth, and 
 there shall be one shepherd and one flock. 
 
 Pan Twardowsky becomes sorely tired in his 
 aerial exile, and yearly in autumn sends his 
 lanko down upon earth. The faithful servant, 
 transformed into a spider, descends upon long 
 cobwebs, which he spins about all parts of the 
 world, and returns to the Pan, to inform him 
 that there are yet many shepherds, and many 
 
PAN TWARDOWSKY. 147 
 
 flocks, and that Unity and Justice is as yet 
 nowhere to be found. But the webs lanko 
 spun are carried by the wind over the plains, 
 and are termed by men the threads of Autumn. 
 
THE POOE TAETAE. 
 
 THE moral of the Twardowsky tale is yet 
 more strongly expressed in the anecdote of the 
 poor Tartar, a story well known all over Hun- 
 gary. 
 
 When in the thirteenth century, the Tartars, 
 led by their chief, Batu Khan, invaded Hungary, 
 and King Bela was forced to flee from the dis- 
 astrous battle at the Sajo, despair seized upon 
 the Hungarians. Many had fallen on the field, 
 still more were butchered by the faithless 
 enemy ; some sought escape, others apathetically 
 awaited their fate. Amongst these was a no- 
 bleman, who lived retired on his property, distant 
 
THE POOR TARTAR. 149 
 
 from every high-road. He possessed fine herds, 
 stately horses, rich corn-fields, and a well-stocked 
 house, built but recently for the reception of his 
 wife, who now for two years had been its 
 mistress. 
 
 The disheartening account of the general 
 misfortune reached this secluded shelter, and its 
 peaceful lord was horrified. He trembled at 
 every sound at every step ; he found his meals 
 less savoury. His very sleep was troubled; 
 he often sighed, and seemed quite lost and 
 wretched. 
 
 Thus anxiously anticipating the days to come, 
 he sat at his well-closed window, when suddenly 
 a Tartar on his steed gallopped into the court. 
 The Hungarian bounced from his seat, ran to 
 meet his guest, and said : 
 
 " Tartar, thou art -my lord ; I am thy servant; 
 all thou seest is thine. Take what thou fanciest ; 
 I do not oppose thy power ; command, thy ser- 
 vant obeys." 
 
 The Tartar impatiently sprang from his 
 horse, entered the house, and cast a careless 
 
150 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 glance on all the precious objects around. His 
 eye was fascinated by the brilliant beauty of the 
 lady of the house, who appeared tastefully 
 attired to greet him here, no less graciously 
 than her consort had in the court below. 
 
 The Tartar seized her without a moment's 
 hesitation, and unheedful of her shrieks, swung 
 himself upon his saddle, and spurred away, 
 carrying off his lovely booty. 
 
 All this was but an instant's work; the 
 nobleman was thunderstruck, yet he recovered, 
 and hastened to the gate. He could hardly 
 still distinguish the Tartar galloping in the 
 distance, and bearing away the lady fair. 
 
 Her consort heaved a sigh, and exclaimed 
 with deep commiseration : " Alas ! poor 
 Tartar F ? I , 
 
THE MAIDENS' CASTLE. 
 
 THE Hungarians, as is well known, mostly 
 occupy the extensive plains of the country 
 they won with their sword ; the mountainous 
 parts they abandoned to the Slovacks, Wallacks 
 and Kuthenians, retaining for their own culti- 
 vation only the chain of the Matra, the heights of 
 the Biikk, and the hills of the Hegyalya, where 
 the golden Tokay grows. We see many of these 
 elevations crowned with picturesque ruins of 
 castles, destroyed in great part during the 
 Turkish wars. The last of these feudal abodes 
 were demolished at the desire of Maria Theresa. 
 She disliked the aristocracy to be reminded by 
 
152 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 their lofty forts of their once more independent 
 position; she was averse to the powerful landed 
 proprietor occupying among his dependents 
 the place ancient castles held in the country, 
 which they protected and swayed over ; but 
 she gladly saw the Hungarian Peers at Court, 
 with the richly embroidered dress replacing 
 the plain cuirass, and the powdered wig sub- 
 stituted for the high flowing feather. The 
 scheme succeeded ; the old rebels were tamed 
 and the ancient castles pulled down. But the 
 legends and tales connected with them could 
 not be effaced from the memory of the people, 
 which seldom cares for historical facts, but 
 shapes feats and events according to its own 
 feelings and imagination, bearing to reality a 
 similar relation to that in which tradition stands 
 to legitimate history. 
 
 In the beech-woods of the heights of the 
 Biikk, in the county of Borsod, stand the ruins 
 
THE MAIDENS 7 CASTLE. 153 
 
 i, 
 
 of two abodes, which, in ancient times pro- 
 bably were united by a wall, and formed but 
 one castle. They were raised ,on the two 
 edges of a ridge of hills. 
 
 These ruins, popularly called " The Maidens' 
 Castle," are known by the following tale : 
 
 A fairy lived here, and at her command the 
 castle had been erected. No one knew whence 
 she had come with two beautiful children, who 
 resembled each other like drops of dew. Both 
 of them were fair and delicate as the pearls of 
 the sea. 
 
 When Alma felt delight in hunting the 
 butterfly through the shades of the wood to 
 the enamelled meadows, Mandula's cheeks too 
 were tinged with the bright colour of playful 
 enjoj^ment. "When Mandula spied with childish 
 curiosity the glow-worm which she fancied to 
 be a star hidden in the luxuriant grass, Alma too 
 peeped from behind the brushwood with a 
 glance as shining as the glow-worm itself. The 
 
 twins on each side of their mother seemed two 
 
 7 
 
154 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY, 
 
 ' * ' * ^ 
 
 unopened buds, rising from the same stem 
 which a full-blown white rose already graced. 
 
 The days passed in undisturbed happiness, 
 and the little girls grew to be lovely maidens. 
 Once at sunset when the evening breathed re- 
 pose, and Nature smiled so bright as if she never 
 could be darkened by clouds, the fairy stood on 
 the terrace that overlooked the wall uniting the 
 wings of the castle. Alma and Mandula sat 
 at her feet, selecting garlands of ivy with which to 
 crown their beloved mother. She looked down 
 upon them with melancholy; her eyes were 
 bathed in tears ; a deep sigh escaped her 
 bosom. The daughters looked up; their 
 glances expressed the anxiety trembling on 
 their lips. They rose and clung to their parent. 
 She pressed them 'to her heart ; they kissed 
 her. She pressed tnem again ; they felt 
 glowing tears on their cheeks, and she also 
 wept. 
 
 " Mother! mother! why do you weep?" ex- 
 claimed Mandula, and sank down on her knees. 
 
155 
 
 It was the first time she experienced grief. The 
 fairy raised her up, took both maidens' hands in 
 her own, and, after a painful silence, spoke with 
 broken accents : 
 
 " My children, we must part. The Queen of 
 the Fairies commands, and I must obey. But 
 few are the instants granted to me with you. 
 We must not yield to overpowering sorrow, that 
 at least I may leave you my advice and my 
 blessing, with tokens of my motherly affection. 
 I attempt to provide for your future, but your 
 fate rests in your own hands; it can only be 
 decided by yourselves. Every human being 
 pronounces by his deeds the verdict of his life, 
 which no power can alter. I give you two 
 golden apples : to these youth, beauty, and 
 happiness are bound ; but to preserve them 
 must be your care ; over this I have no control. 
 Wisdom cannot be bought ; it must be acquired. 
 My prayers may warn, but they cannot secure 
 you. Beware of passion. It lights the fire of 
 ecstacy, which melts the purest treasures of the 
 heart. Thus transformed, they easily escape 
 
156 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 with the airy clouds of imagination ; and when 
 the flame of enthusiasm has burnt out, you 
 remain beggars, without love, without sympathy. 
 Beware, my children ; let never any feeling, any 
 thought, estrange you from each other ; then, 
 only then, your youth will never fade, any more 
 than the brilliancy of the golden apples to which 
 your lives are bound. The precious fruit con- 
 tains the vigour of your existence; watch over 
 these my last keepsakes, and remember my 
 prayers, my warning." 
 
 The maidens were lost in a labyrinth of woe. 
 Their happiness had been so perfect, that they 
 never dreamt it could be otherwise. Now they 
 were smitten with an inexpressible pang ; they 
 felt destitute and wretched ; their consciousness 
 forsook them, and before they came to them- 
 selves the fairy had disappeared. 
 
 Hours passed. The rays of the sun warmed 
 the world around, but gladdened not the sisters ; 
 the icy chill of misfortune had struck their young 
 hearts. Their senses could hardly believe in 
 the reality of their loss, yet it was so their 
 
m 
 
 THE MAIDENS' CASTLE. 157 
 
 motlier liad departed. They knelt in speechless 
 agony on the spot where she had left them ; 
 the golden apples lay at their side, and shed a 
 bright lustre on the blossoms around. At last 
 the instinct of youth, revolting against the tor- 
 ture of pain, melted grief into tears. Mandula 
 sank in the arms of Alma ; they clung to each 
 other in tight embrace; their hearts throbbed; 
 they suffered, but were relieved. They mutually 
 guessed every unexpressed feeling; they com- 
 municated every thought ; they recapitulated 
 what their mother had spoken ; they tried to 
 recal every word. Their eyes rested on the 
 keepsakes sha had left ; they pressed them to 
 their lips, and gazed on them with tender emo- 
 tions of sorrow and gratitude. Hardly remem- 
 bering that the gifts had intrinsic virtue, they 
 treasured them up as the last tokens of their 
 mother's affection. 
 
 Alma retired to the right wing of the castle, 
 Mandula to the left ; but it was only to repair 
 again to her sister. Both indulged their regret 
 in communion, and felt that united tears give 
 
158 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 birth to consolation. Neither of the sisters had 
 a pleasure by herself; they had no enjoyment 
 but when together, or when occupied for one 
 another. Alma watered Mandula's flowers ; 
 Mandula selected the most beautiful blossoms of 
 Alma's garden to adorn her beloved com- 
 panion. They caressed each other like the 
 billing-doves of their turrets ; nor did the white 
 fawn they fed in common know whether it was 
 Alma's or Mandula's hand which offered to it the 
 herbs and the sugar. 
 
 Their favourite recreation was to admire 
 the golden apples, to behold themselves in 
 their polished surface, and to compare them, 
 wondering which reflected more distinctly their 
 own smiling countenances. On their rosy fin- 
 gers they balanced the apples, and exchanged 
 and returned them, and exchanged them again, 
 to see if they could be distinguished from one 
 another. This playful pastime was so often 
 repeated, that the sisters quite forgot which of 
 the apples was Alma's, which Mandula's. But 
 what did they care? Did not Alma see with 
 
THE MAIDENS' CASTLE. 159 
 
 her sister's glance ? Did not Mandula breathe 
 with her companion's smile, whom she loved 
 better than her own self? 
 
 They at last determined to keep reciprocally 
 the emblems of their fate. Their fate, they 
 deemed, could be but one and the same; how 
 could ever one remain happy without the other ? 
 .And each thought her treasure safer with her 
 sister than with herself. 
 
 Days, weeks, months, passed in happy dreams 
 of immutable communion. One evening the 
 sisters sat at their window, when the unwonted 
 sound of a horse's hoof clattered in the court of 
 the castle. A handsome young sportsman had 
 lost his way pursuing the trace of a white fawn 
 which led him to the double castle of the sisters. 
 They both greeted him with gracious hospitality, 
 offering shelter and rest. He gladly accepted it, 
 but found no repose in the silk-curtained bed. 
 "When he closed his eyes, two maidenly counte- 
 nances flitted before his mind. He longed to 
 contemplate them, but when he attempted to do 
 so, the delicate features melted in the dazzling 
 
160 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 light of a distant star, from which two meteors 
 shot down, and, transformed into arrows, hit the 
 throbbing heart of the young man. He awoke 
 with a start, but reclosed his eyes to behold the* 
 alluring dream again. 
 
 When he met the twins next day, his dream 
 seemed almost revived : both appeared beautiful 
 as the morning star ; both met his glance with , 
 the same blush, both with the same thrilling 
 pulse. And when the young sportsman took 
 leave, and requested permission to return, both 
 sisters bowed their heads and lisped " Come 
 again." 
 
 When he was gone, each retired to her wing of 
 the castle, and when they joined in their accus- 
 tomed walks, they spoke of their flowers, their 
 birds, and their fawn, but never of him who was 
 equally present to both minds and both hearts. 
 He came again; and every time he left, the 
 sisters felt more estranged from each other. 
 Alma found fault with Mandula ; Mandula grew 
 timid in the presence of her sister, whose looks 
 and very movements expressed displeasure and 
 
THE MAIDENS' CASTLE. 161 
 
 distaste. Mandula sought solitude ; unconsciously 
 to herself she shunned all explanation. 
 
 One afternoon -it was dusky, and heavy 
 clouds threatened a shower Mandula bowed 
 over a magnificent bush of roses, collecting the 
 finest of them in a bunch. Alma stood in the 
 veranda : 
 
 " Why dost thou rob the garden of its adorn- 
 ment?" she called to her sister in a tone of re- 
 proach. 
 
 " The rain will crush all the flowers ; is it not 
 better that these be saved?" replied Mandula, 
 carrying her bunch to the house. 
 
 " No, no, my head aches; I cannot bear 
 the strong fragrance," objected Alma impa- 
 tiently. 
 
 " Art thou ill ?" inquired the other. " Yes, 
 thou lookest flushed now thou art pale say, 
 what aileththee?" 
 
 "Dost thou care for it? Thou dislikest my 
 look ; do not others too ? Have they not told 
 thee?" 
 
162 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 Mandula felt that her sister was hurt slie 
 longed to throw her arms round her neck, to kiss 
 off the offence ; but steps approached, the door 
 opened, and the sportsman entered. 
 
 Both sisters greeted him warmly; Mandula 
 offered one of the roses she held in her hand : 
 
 " What a sweet welcome!" exclaimed he joy- 
 fully. 
 
 Alma heard no more, she darted from the 
 room, and flung the door violently after her. 
 Mandula rose ; she felt confused the visitor 
 uttered a hasty excuse, mentioning the weather, 
 and withdrew. Mandula followed her sister 
 but found no access ; the door of Alma's apart- 
 ment was locked. 
 
 Mandula retired to her lonely castle ; her tears 
 flowed too burning to cool her glowing cheeks ; 
 she longed to be reconciled to her sister she 
 wished to force her door to entreat forgiveness. 
 But for what offence ? what could she say ? 
 what could she promise? She hid her face 
 in her hands, and invoked the memory of 
 
THE MAIDENS 7 CASTLE. 163 
 
 her mother, to calm her overpowering emo- 
 tions. 
 
 Alma, with a chill in her veins and bitterness 
 in heart, shut herself up. She recapitulated 
 the wrongs of her sister ; she frowned, and 
 defyingly glanced around. Her eye was caught 
 by the golden apple resting in the marble niche 
 on a crimson cushion, where her own name, in- 
 terlaced with Mandula's, was embroidered by her 
 sister's hand. This keepsake, once her favourite, 
 seemed now an insult. Cold as the marble 
 wall, which protected the talisman entrusted to 
 her, she seized the golden apple ; she pressed it 
 in her hands, as if she could crush it; she 
 relaxed it again, put it back in the niche, 
 walked up and down the room with a bewil- 
 dered look, struck her breast violently, crossed 
 her arms, and stared at the apple with fixed 
 gaze. 
 
 After a pause, she again grasped the apple, 
 rushed to the balcony, flung it violently down ; 
 it was dashed to atoms; and she precipitated 
 herself after it into the court below. 
 
164 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 But hardly had she touched the ground, 
 when she was rooted to it ; her arms were 
 transformed into branches, and she was meta- 
 morphosed into an apple-tree. 
 
 The apple she had destroyed had been her 
 own, not her sister's, whose existence she had 
 deemed she held in her power. The golden 
 fruit had so often been exchanged, that Alma 
 had kept her own, whilst she believed it to be 
 Mandula's. 
 
 She saw her sister preferred by the sports- 
 man, without whose love she would not live, 
 but neither should a hated rival survive her. 
 This was why she dashed down the apple, and 
 precipitated herself after it. 
 
 Years rolled on, and found the young sports- 
 
 9. 
 man united to Mandula. 
 
 They often sat in the court of the castle, over- 
 shadowed by the blooming apple-tree, happy 
 amidst their family ; but they remembered with 
 regret the fate of their sister, and more than one 
 tear bedewed the blossoms strewed around by 
 the summer's breeze. 
 
THE MAIDENS' CASTLE. 165 
 
 Centuries have passed since, and cattle graze 
 on the height of the Biikk. The herdsmen 
 admire the magnificent bloom of the apple- 
 tree, but no one has ever seen it blessed with 
 fruit. 
 
THE HAIR OP THE ORPHAN GIRL. 
 
 AT every election in Hungary each of the 
 parties chooses its standard, and its party sign, 
 which they wear on their hats ; a rose, a green 
 branch, a cock, or an ostrich feather. The 
 prettiest of the signs is no doubt the feather- 
 grass, bearing from afar the semblance of a 
 paradise-bird ; it is extremely sensitive, unfold- 
 ing of itself when exposed to the sun's rays, 
 whilst its delicate fibres shrink during rain. 
 
 In Hungary this plant is called " the hair of 
 the orphan girl." The origin of this name is 
 explained by popular tradition in the following 
 manner : 
 
 A lovely maiden was married to a nobleman. 
 
THE HAIR OF THE ORPHAN GIRL. 167 
 
 She was a favourite with Ellen, the Queen of the 
 Fairies, who stood godmother to her friend's 
 first child, a wonderfully fair little girl. The 
 mother soon died after the birth of the baby ; 
 and her last consolation had been the promise of 
 the Queen of the Fairies never to forsake the 
 motherless Ellen, for so was she called after her 
 godmother. The father deeply mourned the 
 loss of his wife, and the baby was entrusted to a 
 nurse. 
 
 A full year passed away. The nobleman had 
 soothed his sorrow by mourning, and now 
 sought his friends again ; and they so often 
 repeated to him : " It is not good for the man 
 to be alone," that he at last allowed himself to 
 be married to a good-looking widow. He soon 
 became aware that she was fully accomplished 
 in the art of rule, and he himself being endowed 
 with a quiet temper, abandoned to her what she 
 termed " her share," viz. : the irresponsible 
 government of the household, including her hus- 
 band's estates, and himself. 
 
 The lady had two daughters, and little cared 
 to educate a third. Ellen was left with her 
 
168 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 nurse, a good woman, who had more work than 
 wealth, but whose love for the orphan was not 
 less than for her own girl, at whose grave she 
 often prayed and wept. 
 
 The foster-child throve in the fields and mea- 
 dows. There she roamed about, and breathed 
 the fresh air that playfully fanned her waving 
 hair, as brilliant in hue as the rays of the sun. 
 Her father visited her seldom, but when he came, 
 he always found her improved in looks and in 
 wit. She knew every herb and its virtue ; she 
 not only assisted in breaking and hatching her 
 hemp, but she had likewise learnt to spin like a 
 great girl, and the thread on her distaff was equal 
 to any in the whole village. 
 
 And though she shunned no work and no 
 sun, yet, as the foster-mother said, she always 
 remained a young lady from top to toe, with 
 hands as delicate and transparent as if solely 
 created to be looked at and longed for. When 
 her father inquired, " Who taught her all her 
 wisdom ?" she replied : 
 
 " My godmother. To her I repeat the songs 
 I hear of the birds in the fields ; to her I recount 
 
THE HAIR OF THE ORPHAN GIRL. 169 
 
 what I do all day long ; and she smiles and tells 
 me how good my mother is, who watches from 
 heaven all I do, and there prays for my weal." 
 
 The father wiped a tear in his eye, and blessed 
 the child ; and when he came home, he said to 
 his wife : 
 
 " My dearest soul ! Ellen is growing up ; you 
 must have her brought home." 
 
 "Yes, yes," his consort replied, "when our 
 daughters get stronger. Now the little thing 
 would be too noisy; it would try their nerves 
 and interfere with their studies." 
 
 In this case, as in many others, appearances 
 must have been deceptive ; for though the two 
 daughters seemed as firmly built as any of the 
 buxom peasant-girls in the village, they must 
 long have remained weak, for years came and 
 went, and the orphan was still with her affec- 
 tionate nurse. Why might she not have 
 remained there for ever? thought she, when 
 at last her stepmother came and com- 
 manded her to take off her purple skirt, 
 and purple boots, and her gaudy stays, and 
 
 put on a homely grey frock, and a black apron, 
 8 
 
170 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 and to twist her flowing hair under a close-fitting 
 cap. 
 
 "Oh, that she might have remained with her 
 nurse for ever! was her inward thought, after 
 she had been taken to her father's house, where 
 she met stern looks and unkind words. What- 
 ever she did was called awkward, though she 
 did her best to please the whims of the three 
 ladies. But her sisters told her so incessantly 
 that she was a silly child, that she at last be- 
 lieved it, and often wept over her own ignorance. 
 On this she was chidden as a " whimpering 
 good-for-nothing creature" by her step-mother, 
 who did not like her the better for her uncom- 
 mon beauty, now breaking forth from the twilight 
 of childhood into the radiant magnificence of 
 womanhood. And when her father's eye fondly 
 rested upon the orphan, his lady never failed to 
 remark : 
 
 "Do not make her vain. You know her 
 mother left her penniless. You know your 
 estate was encumbered when I came into the 
 house. I spent my whole fortune to disengage 
 it, and to put it in a decent state. You know 
 
THE HAIR OF THE ORPHAN GIRL. 171 
 
 my improvements amount to more than the 
 value of the whole property : this of course 
 must, according to law, come back to my. 
 daughters. We therefore have nothing to dis- 
 pose of in favour of Ellen." 
 
 On this the father sighed, called for his car- 
 riage, drove to a distant farm, and did not 
 return till after sunset. 
 
 Little Ellen had grown to be a lovely young 
 woman, and attracted the notice of all who 
 saw her. As the lady-mistress did not think 
 this desirable, she gave her charge of all the 
 household affairs; and when guests filled the 
 house, the orphan had to attend the larder and 
 the kitchen. When the sisters drove to the 
 ball, she had to assist at their toilets, and to 
 guard the house during the absence of the 
 family. She then sat in her desolate room, 
 pondering what a ball could be, and fancying 
 that it certainly was the realization of one of the 
 brilliant tales her godmother had been wont to 
 tell her. Her dear godmother the lovely 
 woman with the blissful smile and the benignant 
 glance ! Ellen began to weep when she thought 
 
172 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 of her, who had never appeared since she re- 
 turned to the house of her father, where she 
 was more motherless than she had ever felt with 
 her good nurse, who called her "my own little 
 pet," a phrase at which the lady step-mother had 
 been very cross when the poor woman once called 
 at the manor. 
 
 Ellen was so fully taken up with her thoughts 
 and her feelings, that she hardly noticed a well- 
 known step, which approached her. The kind 
 nurse had seen the ladies depart, and knowing 
 that the lord was at the county meeting, she 
 longed for a chat with her pet, whom she knew 
 to be by herself; and after she had ended her 
 work, she came up, though it was late, to say 
 that in the afternoon she had returned from the 
 market in town, where she had been to sell 
 her turkeys; and that everybody spoke of 
 the great festivity to be held at court, where all 
 the ladies of the whole realm were to appear, 
 as the old King had given up his throne to his 
 illustrious Prince, and wished him to marry, but 
 that he had declared that he would marry none, 
 but the fairest of all the Hungarian ladies ; 
 
THE HAIR OF THE ORPHAN GIRL. 173 
 
 that therefore all the ladies of the whole realm 
 were to appear at the ball. The good nurse 
 said, that she had directly thought ef her pet, 
 the fairest child under the sun. 
 
 " Only in your eyes, my dear soul," inter- 
 posed Ellen. " I am homely to every one else, 
 be assured : so says my stepmother, and my 
 father does not gainsay it; and you know he 
 always has been kind to me. Yes, I must be 
 homely; no one c^res for me, except you, my 
 soul." 
 
 But the good nurse reiterated the contrary 
 so positively, and with such affectionate gar- 
 rulity, that the orphan felt a little cheered, 
 and even entertained a very slight hope that, 
 perhaps, she might be allowed to have a peep 
 at the ball, which every o$e was to attend. 
 She embraced her nurse, who promised to call 
 again ; and she .fell soon asleep, half in tears, 
 half in smiles. She started up at dawn, and 
 hastily dressed, and feared that she awoke too 
 late ; all was silent ^ but she remembered that 
 bread was to be baked, and she ran down, 
 calling "Josi," and gently tapped on the 
 
174 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 shoulder of the gipsey boy, who slept on the 
 threshold, but gladly opened his eyes, though 
 not without rubbing them very hard, and jumped 
 up, when he perceived his young mistress, who 
 bid him light the fire. 
 
 With an active step she moved over the 
 whole house, and called every one up, and 
 dispensed breakfast to all, not forgetful of the 
 dog and the poultry. And the sun shone so 
 bright, and approaching spring breathed so 
 sweet, that Ellen felt quite happy, and did not 
 start as sometimes she happened to do 
 when the carriage rolled into the court. But 
 she ran to meet the lady and her daughters, 
 who, tired and cross, claimed her attendance. 
 
 The dream was dispelled, and the poor 
 orphan obeyed in^ilent submission. 
 
 The tidings of the festivity at court were soon 
 spread all over the country; the excitement 
 created by the important event was without 
 precedent. Mothers and daughters conjured up 
 all their charms, and called into requisition all 
 their resources. All thronged to the capital, 
 and stormed the shops, engaging the attendance 
 
THE HAIR OF THE ORPHAN GIRL. 175 
 
 of tailors, Hair-dressers, milliners, and every 
 artist wlio could in any way improve looks and 
 figure. The Jews liad busy days; property 
 was pawned ; jewels and plate sold to borrow 
 more splendid ornaments for the great occasion. 
 Could anything appear extravagant, when the 
 royal hand was to be won ? So thought 
 Ellen's stepmother, and acted accordingly. 
 Gold-embroidered velvet for herself, silver 
 garlands for her daughters ; laces and gems 
 were purchased, and prepared. Messengers 
 went and came, none brought a parcel for poor 
 Ellen, who had no courage to inquire, if now 
 too she was to stay, and keep the house. And 
 why should she inquire? Did she not know 
 that she was a penniless orphan ? What could 
 she seek at court? No mother's hand would 
 ornament her' brow, no mother's eye would 
 watch her gait. How should she go to court ? 
 No, no ; much better to stay at home than in- 
 trude into the golden halls, where all would shine 
 and smile, but no glance would beam on her 
 with sympathy and joy. 
 
 Such consolation flitted before the mind of 
 
176 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 the girl ; and when her father said to her, 
 " Dear child, I gladly would have taken thee> 
 but thou art yet too young ; it is better for thee 
 to stay at home," she kissed his hand, and 
 hardly could have told why a sigh then escaped 
 her breast. She served and packed, and saw 
 the carriage drive up the court, and the family 
 depart, followed by more horses and more 
 stately servants than she ever had seen before. 
 She watched them all until they had turned 
 around the corner of the house, then she re- 
 treated to the yard, and caressed the barking 
 watch- dog, who wagged his tail at her approach, 
 and licked her round little hand. She felt 
 lonely she felt sad ; she could have wept : she 
 knew not why. Was not all for the best? 
 She stepped to her room, and took up the 
 legends of the saints. But the letters caught 
 her eye only, not her mind; she could not 
 read ; she could not think ; her book fell on her 
 lap ; she hid her face in her hand, and sobbed 
 bitterly. Suddenly a silver voice thrilled to her 
 heart; she glanced up with tearful eyes, and 
 a blushing brow. She had not heard the creak - 
 
THE HAIR OF THE ORPHAN GIRL. 177 
 
 ing of the door, the fall of a step, and yet here 
 stood a radiant lovely woman, her own dear, 
 dear godmother. 
 
 Ellen found herself in her arms before she 
 could pronounce a single word. The fairy 
 smoothed the maiden 's golden hair, and said : 
 " My dove, come, let me adorn thee for the 
 festival." Before Ellen had recovered from her 
 joyful surprise, she was seated in a stately coach 
 drawn by six spotless horses. 
 
 At court all was bustle and excitement. The 
 hall could hardly hold the throng of guests. 
 The fresh flowers which covered the marble walls 
 looked faint in comparison with the women of 
 Hungary. Their brilliant complexion and 
 sparkling eyes, still more than- the splendour 
 by which they were surrounded, recalled the 
 voluptuous brightness of the East. They stood 
 around with palpitating hearts and flushed 
 cheeks. The mothers whispered; the fathers 
 formed in different groups; whilst the young 
 men ambitiously sought to catch a smile or a 
 glance, soon to be absorbed they knew, by that 
 one centre of admiration, the young King, who 
 
178 POPULAR TALES OF HUKGARY. 
 
 had not yet appeared. The minutes, by expecta- 
 tion, seemed to grow into hours. At last the 
 trumpets and viols announced his approach, and 
 he was seen. His noble features, which were 
 stamped with a gentle and kind expression, 
 made many a heart beat quick. The intoxicating 
 whirl of the dance began, and ambition soon was 
 drowned in thoughtless joy. But suddenly all 
 faces were turned ; surprise thrilled through the 
 whole company, when the young King stepped 
 forth with a partner, whose loveliness envy itself 
 could not deny. Her countenance beamed with 
 child-like unconsciousness ; every one of her 
 movements was graceful as the waving of her 
 hair, which shone behind the silvery clouds of 
 the veil that covered her neck and shoulders, 
 and was fastened by golden tresses woven 
 into a diadem. A velvet corslet closely fitted 
 her waist, where a pearl-embroidered apron was 
 fastened ; and her skirt of white satin sparkled 
 with peerless flowers. Every eye was dazzled by 
 the brilliancy of her attire, and riveted by- her 
 beautiful features. JSTo -one disputed that she 
 
THE HAIK OF THE ORPHAN GIRL. 179 
 
 was the rightful queen of the festival : hers was 
 the acknowledged crown. 
 
 The Prince led her to the dance ; he held her 
 hand, and still remained at her side, when the 
 other gentlemen had already more than once 
 changed partners. The dance was over, a general 
 movement led old and young to the adjoining 
 hall ; the pairs were broken up. The old King 
 addressed his son, and pointed to the admired 
 young lady. The Prince turned round to follow 
 her but she was gone, whither ? no one 
 could tell ! The music sounded again, the dance 
 was renewed, but the young King did not join 
 it. With his partner every charm had disap- 
 peared. But who was she ? no one was found 
 to know. 
 
 When the step-mother returned home with 
 her daughters, they found Ellen attentive, as 
 usual, to the household. They spoke of nothing 
 but of the royal ball, and of the unknown lady 
 who had obviously charmed the Sovereign. No 
 wonder, said they, that she looked beautiful with 
 such a dress, set off by the glance of diamond- 
 
180 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 stars. Whoever can afford sucli finery is sure 
 to strike. 
 
 They compared themselves with the myste- 
 rious apparition, and concluded that if they 
 could next time appear with more magnificence, 
 they would be sure to stand their ground against 
 the " elfish beauty." 
 
 Ellen listened and thought : " They are not 
 quite wrong : the dress did vastly alter me, as 
 they never recognised the homely Ellen in that 
 shining * garb." She smiled, but breathed not 
 her secret; her god-mother had recommended 
 silence. Moreover, not for this alone she did 
 not speak ; she had entered into a new life since 
 the glance of love had warmed, her cheeks ; she 
 now felt as though she were another being, not 
 the poor forlorn orphan, but richer, when alone, 
 with memory as her companion, than she had 
 been in the midst of all the vying splen- 
 dours. 
 
 Ever since the maiden with the golden hair 
 had disappeared, the young King had no care or 
 interest in anything ; his life was nothing but a 
 sigh of longing. She ever flitted before his mind 
 
THE HAIR OF THE ORPHAN GIRL, 181 
 
 with the glorious diadem given her by nature, to 
 mark her out as Queen ; his throne seemed to 
 him to be hers by right, that he was himself 
 a usurper, until she should share its honours. 
 He therefore sent all around messengers to cry 
 aloud and say : Seeing that Heaven has marked 
 out the legitimate Queen by her golden hair, 
 let her who is endowed with it appear, to be 
 led to the. altar by her King. Great recom- 
 pense was promised to any one who could 
 trace her. 
 
 The step-mother had strictly enjoined Ellen 
 never to leave off her cap, for which she had 
 reasons of her own. She knew what hair the 
 orphan had, and always had surmised that 
 some mysterious spell was connected with it. 
 
 When the golden hair was pointed out as the 
 infallible sign of destined royalty, the lady was 
 struck with the thought of transferring the 
 orphan's hair to the head of one of her own 
 daughters, who then would shine in unrivalled 
 magnificence. "With this view she rose from 
 her bed when all were fast asleep, and entered 
 the small room of the orphan. There she drew 
 
182 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 forth, lier largest scissors, and slily cut the golden 
 treasure. 
 
 Ellen slept an infant's sleep and never woke 
 till tlie cock crowed. She then shook off the 
 sweet repose, and alas ! missed her curly hair. 
 She sprang bewildered up. Who could have 
 stolen it from her ? No one but her step-mother 
 could enter unperceived, for she alone had the 
 key of the passage, which joined her room to the 
 wing where Ellen slept. Big tears rolled down 
 the orphan's cheeks, as she silently invoked the 
 help of her god-mother. 
 
 Hardly had the dear remembrance thrilled 
 through her heart, when the fairy stood before 
 her, and pressed a motherly caress on her head. 
 At this soothing touch the thinned hair wonder- 
 fully grew, and unfolded as the wings of a soaring 
 angel. Ellen fell on her knees the Fairy Queen 
 had disappeared. The orphan felt and kissed 
 her restored treasure, and twisted it up more 
 carefully than ever, that no one should notice 
 and grudge the gift of her dear god-mother, the 
 beauty which had attracted his eye. 
 
 Meanwhile, the step-mother was shut up 
 
THE HAIR OF THE ORPHAN GIRL. 183 
 
 with her daughter, and being expert in con- 
 trivances, she shaved the head of the young 
 lady, and artfully adorned it with the magnificent 
 hair of which she had deprived the orphan. She 
 so cunningly hid her artifice that she made every 
 one believe her daughter's hair was thus im- 
 proved by virtue of a juice she had prepared of 
 berries and of herbs. 
 
 The gold crown, woven by the inimitable 
 hand of nature, reflected beauty on the young 
 brow of the daughter, who gladly followed her 
 ambitious parent to Court. The eye of the King 
 was bathed in joy when the golden-haired maiden 
 was announced ; yet he grew pale when he beheld 
 her, so unlike the image in his heart. Had she, 
 who once appeared, stepped down from heaven 
 to point out by what sign -the royal bride was 
 to be recognised? He felt he could not love 
 this maiden, and yet an inexpressible longing 
 bound his heart to her golden hair. He there- 
 fore, without delay, fixed the day for the grand 
 nuptials. It came. A sumptuous procession 
 slowly moved to church ; at its head was the 
 
184: POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 King on his black steed, and the bride proudly 
 borne by a white horse. 
 
 The skies were radiant when they set out ; 
 but when they approached the cathedral a peal 
 of thunder rolled, and suddenly a mighty storm 
 arose, which tore the bridal veil from the head 
 of the betrothed ; the King galloped to take 
 hold of the veil ; another whirling gust blinded 
 all around, and rent the borrowed hair from the 
 bewildered bride, who remained bald, and fainted. 
 The King, with a stern look, commanded his 
 retinue to take her to the palace : with the golden 
 hair all his attachment to the maiden had fled. 
 He then summoned the deceitful mother to 
 confess what she had done. She told her crime, 
 and was banished for ever from the realm. 
 
 Ellen at this time was kneeling at the rivulet 
 behind the garden- wall, where she was washing 
 linen ; she heard the clink of spurs, and of a 
 sword ; she turned astonished round ; her 
 hasty movement deranged the cap which had 
 confined her rich hair, that now rolled down 
 and unfolded as a golden cloak reaching to the 
 ground. 
 
THE HAIR OF THE ORPHAN GIRL. 185 
 
 Ellen was not aware of this; her head was 
 bent over a hand which held her own ; she saw 
 the Prince, and her dearest wish was fulfilled. 
 
 But she soon was raised on a white steed, 
 and triumphantly carried to the altar. When 
 the bridal procession returned over the heath 
 from the cathedral to the palace, all the hills 
 around were adorned with golden bunches the 
 hair which the storm had rent from the false 
 bride. It still adorns the heath of Hungary, 
 and its name, " the hair of the orphan girl," 
 reminds the shepherd of the beautiful Ellen. 
 
THE EOCKS OF LIPNIK. 
 
 AMONGST all the rivers of Hungary but two 
 bend their course northward, not joining the 
 waters of the Danube, which carries all the other 
 streams to the Black Sea. The Poprad and the 
 Dunajetz, in the county of Zips, flow to the great 
 plain of Poland, and united with the Vistula, 
 hasten to the Baltic. 
 
 At the banks of the Dunajetz, the Eed Abbey 
 marks the limits of Hungary towards Gralicia, 
 seldom visited by strangers, except by patients 
 who seek the baths of Smerdzonka, in the neigh- 
 bourhood of the village of Lipnik, from which 
 the guests get their provisions. The villagers 
 
THE EOCKS OF LIPNIK. 187 
 
 who bring these supplies not seldom entertain the 
 guests with traditions of bygone days. 
 
 In ancient heathen times, Kullin, a powerful 
 King, ruled over this country. His sway ex- 
 tended along the whole range of the Karpathians; 
 his herds grazed on all the alpine meadows; 
 but higher up, where no vegetation springs 
 forth, the mighty Omna reigned over the barren 
 rocks. She was a far-famed sorceress, not im- 
 mortal, but in possession of the balm of youth. 
 She preserved the semblance of a youthful 
 woman, though she was many centuries old. 
 Yet whenever she neglected to smooth her 
 brow with the youth-imparting balm, she looked 
 withered and weather-beaten as the moss of the 
 rocks. Like the Thetis of ancient mythology, 
 she had the power to adopt every shape, and 
 could dazzle the human eye, but her heart was 
 of stone, for it had been petrified by the lapse of 
 time. 
 
 Prince Wladin, the son of the King, was the 
 handsomest youth of the realm, and none equalled 
 him in skill and in courage, in kindness and 
 generosity. He was beloved by all, but by none 
 
188 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 more than by Adla, the pride of the Court, the 
 favourite of the Queen, the betrothed of the 
 Prince. 
 
 Once upon a time Wladin, while hunting, 
 caught sight of a magnificent chamois of un- 
 common size. He followed it for hours, and 
 left his .companions far behind. Whenever he 
 thought he had approached it near enough to 
 strike it with his arrow, it slowly climbed farther 
 up the steep rock, and thus induced the Prince 
 to follow it again. It allured him higher and 
 higher to the brink of eternal snow. Just when 
 he thought it was within his reach, the chamois 
 seemed to perceive the danger, fixed its back- 
 ward-bent horns on the cliff which overhung 
 the precipice, swung itself over with a powerful 
 leap, and disappeared from the sight of Wladin. 
 The Prince, disappointed at his failure, now 
 sought to retreat. He had so eagerly pursued 
 his prey, that he had not noticed the steep 
 height which he had climbed up. He stood on 
 a narrow platform, surrounded by giddy abysses, 
 and perpendicular rocks ; no outlet was visible, 
 nor could he retrace the way he had come. He 
 
THE ROCKS OF LIPNIK. 
 
 189 
 
 knew that in descending, it would be impossible 
 to find the clefts on which he had ascended, 
 and he could discern no path on any other side. 
 He sounded his bugle to give notice to his 
 companions, but the sounds died away without 
 echo; he was too far off to be heard. Dusk 
 approached night came on ; he eagerly 
 awaited the dawn of the morning, which, he 
 thought, might light up some unknown path. 
 Morning came, but the rays of the sun only 
 showed him still clearer that there was no way 
 out. He waited till the evening, every attempt 
 failed to climb the rock above him, and he 
 thought a sudden death would be preferable to 
 hopeless starvation; but on the very moment 
 when he approached the brink of the precipice 
 to throw himself down, he heard a noise as the 
 rustling of silk garments. He turned round, 
 and beheld a majestic woman, the queen of the 
 rocks. 
 
 She took his hand, and silently beckoned 
 him to follow. Her steps seemed to create 
 paths, for descent was easy. When they ar- 
 rived at the alpine meadow well known to the 
 
190 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 Prince, Omna pointed at his retinue, now 
 visible in the distance, and said: "Wladin, 
 thou dost not further require my aid." But 
 the Prince bent his knee, and pressing the 
 hand which had led him. exclaimed: " Let me 
 
 s 
 
 thank thee who saved me from destruction. 
 It is not death I feared, but there is one whom 
 I love, and I know that with my life Adla too 
 would be lost, who would not survive me; 
 Adla! the peerless beauty! the best of all 
 women ! This thought alone embittered the 
 danger from which thou hast rescued me. Our 
 gratitude is thine thine our veneration to the 
 last of our days/' 
 
 The sorceress smiled. 
 
 "The feelings of youth are passionate, in 
 gratitude as in love, but they vanish soon. 
 When thou seest the cloud, from which thunder 
 and lightning break forth, thou wouldst deem 
 its irresistible power lasting, if thou hadst not 
 seen that a ray of the sun, a gust of the 
 wind, suffices to dispel or absorb the cloud. 
 Thy feelings will not prove more lasting." 
 
 " My gratitude will last as long as my love, 
 
THE BOOKS OF LIPOTK. 191 
 
 and my love ceases but with my life," replied 
 Wladin. 
 
 "We shall see," she said, and disappeared 
 behind a rock. 
 
 Wladin hastened down the hill, and met his 
 companions ; who after having anxiously sought 
 him night and day, had given him up as lost. 
 He returned to the court of his father ; the Queen 
 weeping pressed him to her bosom ; and the 
 eyes of Adla were radiant with tears, and with 
 joy. When he related this adventure, the 
 Queen praised Omna, but Adla shuddered, and 
 said: "I fear the sorceress. She never rejoices 
 in dispensing benefits ; she allures man without 
 love; she seeks the wilderness, stony as is her 
 heart. Do not again venture near her ; do not 
 seek the mountains which hide danger and 
 treason. The open plain smiles in the light of 
 the sun, and offers the sweet breath of its 
 flowers to every sense. The realm is wide ; 
 its green meadows extend in the valleys below, 
 where men have erected their abodes. There 
 live they, over whom thou shalt sooner or later 
 
192 POPULAB TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 be called to rule, not in the mountains, the dens 
 of wild animals." 
 
 "My love," Wladin jestingly replied, "the 
 chase is the image of war. The energy of men 
 is lulled to sleep in the fertile plain : the breeze 
 of the mountain gives strength to the arm, to 
 shield these who peaceably till the ground below, 
 where the horizon is shut in. Those who are to 
 hold sway, must reign from above, whence they 
 overlook their realm ; they must seek danger, 
 that they may be ready to encounter it, when it 
 intrudes." 
 
 The Queen joined her prayers to those of Adla: 
 the Prince closed her lips with a kiss. 
 
 Kullin was the best of fkthers, but as long as 
 he occupied the throne, he did not wish his son 
 to rule: one king is enough for the realm, 'he 
 thought. Wladin should defend it if attacked, 
 he should wield the sword, not the sceptre, as 
 long as the crown did not sit on his brow and 
 press it with the weight of royal duties. As 
 deep peace now prevailed, Wladin's sword rested 
 
THE ROCKS OF LIPNIK. 193 
 
 in its sheath, and he often roamed through the 
 mountains and valleys alone, in disguise, to ac- 
 quaint himself with his realm and its inhabitants. 
 Thus one hot summer morning he rode over the 
 plain, conversing with the peasants busy at the 
 harvest ; and as the rays of the sun became more 
 burning, he turned his horse to the shadows of 
 the pine forest which bordered the Karpathians. 
 The steed and the rider both felt tired and 
 thirsty, and he looked out for a fountain. He 
 alighted from his horse, took the reins in his 
 hand, and went through the thicket, where the 
 murmur of a rivulet was audible. When he 
 approached it, he saw a peasant girl gathering 
 strawberries, which spread their fragrance 
 around. 
 
 " Wilt thou let me partake of thy berries, my 
 girl ?" he said. 
 
 She offered them courteously, and replied : 
 
 " I have been long in collecting them ; but to 
 you, my Prince, I gladly give them." 
 
 " Thou knowest me ?" 
 
 " How should I not? Who in the whole 
 9 
 
194 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 country is not anxious to see Prince Wladin ; 
 and if lie has once seen him, can he ever forget 
 him ? My father took me to town three years 
 ago, when you returned home at the head of the 
 victorious knights, coming from the bloody 
 battle. Hundreds of voices shouted, l Here 
 comes the hero ! 7 and all the ladies who 
 stood at the windows, and waved their hand- 
 kerchiefs from the balcony, threw garlands at 
 your feet. I peeped through the crowd, and 
 caught just a glimpse of your countenance. 
 I have never forgotten this, and should recog- 
 nise you amongt thousands. I likewise cried: 
 1 Long live our Prince P but you could not hear 
 me : my accents were lost in the noise." 
 
 The Prince smiled and said : "I certainly 
 did not hear it, else my memory would have 
 proved as faithful as thine. Where art thou 
 living, my pretty girl ? In the woods, I am sure, 
 such courtesy is not taught," 
 
 " My father is the gamekeeper, who every 
 week carries the venison to Court ; my mother 
 is long dead, and I live in the forest. My father 
 
THE KOCKS OF LIPNIK. 195 
 
 never takes me with him but on great occasions. 
 He leaves me at home, to take care of his house 
 and his clothes." 
 
 " Art thou quite lonely? Is there no one to 
 converse with thee ? no one to play the shalm 
 under thy window during the summer-night? 
 no one to wait for thee at the dance under the 
 linden-tree ?" 
 
 She laughed, and calling a beautiful grey- 
 hound which playfully bit the grass, she pointed 
 to him : 
 
 "Look, this is my faithful one, who never 
 leaves me : I have no other. He understands 
 my every movement ; he heeds my voice. "When 
 I sleep, he watches my threshold. He is fed 
 by my hand, which he licks in gratitude. 
 When I am at work, his barking warns me of 
 the approach of a stranger ; and when I go out 
 he accompanies me. He even watches the weather 
 for my sake, as just now he was biting the 
 grass, a sure sign that it will rain." 
 
 " He is quite right," said the Prince : " heavy 
 drops begin to fall: thou must hasten home." 
 
 " Not without you. Believe me, I am better 
 
196 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 acquainted with, these parts than you in town. 
 A thunder-storm is approaching so terrible, that 
 woe to every one who is shelterless. Do you 
 see the white cloud hovering over the moun- 
 tain? Let us hasten, that the violence of the 
 wind may not overtake us. You know that in 
 the mountains the storm is nowhere so danger- 
 ous as in the pine-forests. Their roots are not 
 deep enough to resist the hurricane ; they are 
 swept down in a moment, and bury the wan- 
 derer who seeks refuge under their branches. 
 The path to our house leads yonder, quite 
 straight." 
 
 Wladin was aware of the danger. He quickly 
 mounted his horse, caught hold of the girl to 
 raise her on the back of his steed, and gallopped 
 off in the direction indicated by her. He liked the 
 adventure, yet the thought crossed his mind 
 that he never had heard anything of the game- 
 keeper's daughter, who far surpassed in beauty 
 and wit any peasant girl he had ever met. When 
 the rain began to fall in thick showers, and the 
 storm raved fiercely, the girl began to tremble 
 with cold. He therefore unfolded his cloak, 
 
THE BOOKS OF LIPNIK. 197 
 
 wrapped it round her, and told her to cling fast 
 to him that the storm might not blow her down 
 from her insecure seat. 
 
 Half blinded by rain, lightning, and wind, 
 they arrived at the gamekeeper's house. Wladin 
 sprang from the horse, and lifted the girl to the 
 ground. He knocked at the door, but no one 
 answered the summons. 
 
 " Father is not yet at home. To meet this 
 I have a key in my pocket," she said, unlock- 
 ing the gate. She took the horse into the 
 stable, and directed Wladin to seek the room, 
 where soon a merry fire was kindled in the 
 chimney. Here the Prince warmed and dried 
 himself whilst the girl went to and fro, but 
 soon approached in Sunday apparel, and covered 
 the oak table with a clean linen cloth, the work 
 of her hands, as she told him. She placed fruit 
 and cheese, bread and milk on the board, and 
 adorned it with a gay bunch of flowers. 
 
 "Wladin sat down, and she sat at his side. 
 The meal was hardly touched, for the Prince 
 listened with increasing attention to the words 
 of the girl, who described to him her secluded 
 
198 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 life, often left to herself from morning to night 
 whilst her father went to the chase. He was 
 the only man familiar to her ; for seldom did a 
 guest knock at the door, and when that 
 happened, it was some outlaw seeking shelter 
 for a night, who enforced hospitality with his 
 sword. Then she spoke of the terrors and 
 the dreams which haunted her mind, after she 
 had listened for hours to tales of misery and 
 violence. 
 
 " But you do not touch the meal, my Prince," 
 she interrupted herself. " I hope you will take 
 a glass of wine with me." 
 
 She rose and went to the cupboard, and took 
 out a flask filled with darkened wine, and a 
 large silver goblet, on which long-bearded faces 
 were engraved. She poured the liquor into the 
 goblet, and every drop appeared to the Prince 
 sparkling with fire. She offered the cup, and 
 said: 
 
 " Drink, Wladin!" 
 
 The voice sounded to him different, but yet 
 as if he had heard it once before. "When he 
 raised the goblet in his hand, it seemed burn- 
 
THE ROCKS OF LIPNIK. 199 
 
 ing; the bearded faces on its sides grinned at 
 him ; but the wine pearled so invitingly, that he 
 could not resist. He emptied it in one draught. 
 
 All around now took another shape ; silk 
 covered the table ; the earthenware had turned 
 into gold; the flowers shone as jewels, and 
 exhaled fragrance of frankincense. The room 
 dilated into a spacious hall, sumptuously illu- 
 minated by hundreds of lamps ; marble pillars 
 rose all around; sweet music vibrated through 
 the air. 
 
 "Wladin rose astonished from his seat. Before 
 him stood the girl, but her countenance shone 
 with majestic dignity. A purple cloak flowed 
 from her shoulders. She presented to him anew 
 the silver goblet, and said, alluringly : 
 
 " Drink, Wladin!" 
 
 He stared at her, and seized the goblet ; but it 
 slipped through^ his trembling fingers, and fell to 
 the ground. 
 
 Everything was again as before. He sat at 
 the table covered with the linen cloth ; the 
 fruits lay on the earthen dish ; the small room 
 was scarcely lighted by the two candles on the 
 
200 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 board ; the peasant girl stood smiling before him, 
 and said : 
 
 " "Why do you stare at me ? don't you like my 
 wine ? Come, take another cup with me : it will 
 warm you after the cold ride.' 7 
 
 Wladin seemed to awake from a dream ; it 
 was as if a film fell from his eyes. Exclaim- 
 ing : " Get thee hence, Omna I" he burst from 
 the room and fled. He had recognised the 
 temptress. 
 
 When he returned home he did not relate his 
 adventure, but remembered it well, and did not 
 forget Adla's warning. 
 
 Once when he returned from a visit to his 
 stud, he heard piercing shrieks from the forest, 
 and hastened in that direction. A lovely maiden, 
 clad in the dark garments of a burgher's 
 daughter, threw himself at his feet. Two horse- 
 men followed on her traces, but when they beheld 
 "Wladin drawing his sword, ready to encounter 
 them, they fled. 
 
 The maiden burst into tears ; she could 
 utter no word every accent was choked in 
 sobs. The Prince tried to comfort her, and 
 
THE BOOKS OF LIPNIK. 201 
 
 raised her from the ground where she still 
 knelt, her face hid in her hands. 
 
 " Are they gone, are they gone ?" she uttered, 
 glancing around with a bewildered look ; and 
 when she saw that all was safe, she pressed the 
 hand of Wladin to her heart, and exclaimed : 
 
 "You are my deliverer. How can I thank 
 you, what can I do, I, the poor orphan! 
 Shall I return to the old miser, the remorseless 
 guardian, who sold me to the ruffian from whom 
 I have escaped, thanks to thee! Could I but. 
 serve thee, noblest of men, as thy very humblest 
 attendant, I would watch thine eye to obey 
 thy yet unexpressed desires. I would never 
 obtrude on thee, but ever be ready at thy com- 
 mand. I would follow thee faithfully and 
 silently as thine own shadow. But what 
 do I say? I wish to prove grateful, and I 
 claim a new boon," cried she passionately, 
 folding her hands and looking up to the Prince 
 with the glance of inexpressible grief. 
 
 Wladin took her hands, while he hardly knew 
 himself what he did, and said with uncertain 
 
 accents : " What can I do for you ?" 
 9* 
 
202 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 These words seemed to revive the energy of 
 the girl, for though she yet trembled, she ob- 
 viously composed herself. 
 
 "You do not forsake me," replied she, with 
 confidence. " You will preserve the life you 
 have saved. Thither," said she, pointing in the 
 direction of the capital, " thither I will not 
 return ; but some hours from hence the way 
 leads over that mountain before us there re- 
 sides my aunt, with whom I lived until called to 
 town by my guardian. To this aged relative 
 I will now return, if you will take me to her, for 
 alone I fear to go." 
 
 The Prince bowed his assent. 
 
 It was afternoon; the steep path led over 
 loose stones and through thickets. Wladin 
 supported his fair charge, who leaned on his 
 arm, and often stopped, as if overcome with 
 exhaustion. Her colour came and fled, till at 
 last she avowed she must .rest. She sat down 
 on a stone, over which "Wladin had spread his 
 cloak. He stood beside her with folded arms. 
 
 The dark pines, the rocks, tne purling of a 
 rivulet, awoke in him strange recollections. 
 
THE ROCKS OF LIPNIK. 203 
 
 And when he glanced at the beautiful maiden, 
 and marked her blue eyes, shining with a mys- 
 terious brilliancy, he thought he had beheld her 
 before. But her clear voice soon dispelled this 
 impression. He asked her who she was? and 
 she related that her father had fallen three years 
 ago on the field of battle, under the banner of 
 the Prince ; her mother did not survive him ; 
 she had remained with the old aunt, who, deaf 
 and blind, could but little care for her. 
 
 " Yet I grew up," she sorrowfully continued, 
 " as you see. But, alas ! why ? to return to 
 the sad abode where no eye watches my cares, 
 where I witness a misery I cannot alleviate, and 
 where I tremblingly anticipate the hour when the 
 joyless life of my poor aunt shall depart, and I 
 remain at the mercy of the hated miser. Oh ! 
 I am the most unfortunate creature in the world !" 
 She shuddered. 
 
 The young man turned to her with deep 
 commiseration. Her bright forehead was bent 
 forward against her head, while her elbow rested 
 on the knee ; her dark eyelashes covered a half- 
 suppressed tear; youth and misfortune spread 
 
204 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 irresistible charms over her winning counte- 
 nance. 
 
 " Come," she said, as if comforted by his 
 glance of compassion, " let us continue our road. 
 I shall find my strength again ; but, nay generous 
 deliverer, promise that you will never forget me, 
 but will shield me when I am without protection. 
 You never will forsake me promise*" 
 
 She rose, and Wladin pressed a kiss on her 
 hand; but his lips burnt, fire shot through his 
 veins ; he retreated a step ; he looked full in 
 her face, and cried " Omna I" then precipitately 
 hastened down the path they had just ascended. 
 
 Accents of despair, heart-rending entreaties, 
 struck his ear ; but he did not return. Scornful 
 laughter, a thousand-fold repeated by the echo, 
 seemed to follow his steps; but still he did not 
 return. 
 
 " Coward ! coward !" vibrated through the air. 
 The Prince stopped, involuntarily put his hand 
 to the hilt of his sword ; but not even then 
 returned. 
 
 He reached the palace, sought his apartment, 
 and locked himself in. 
 

 THE EOCKS OF LIPNIK. 205 
 
 It was night, yet lie closed not his eyes ; the 
 sorceress haunted his imagination ; the burgher 
 maid and the peasant girl both flitted before his 
 mind. He paced his room in feverish excitement 
 
 The morrow came, and he saw his Adla again. 
 She had been anxious at his absence, as she 
 ever was, she blushingly said. Her eye inquired 
 if Wladin had nothing to relate ; but he was pre- 
 occupied by a thought he did not utter, and 
 Adla would not heighten his discomfort by dis- 
 closing her cares. Yet they sickened her heart ; 
 the lover felt it, and grew more reserved and 
 more restless. 
 
 Yet he soon was determined. He would 
 voluntarily meet the danger which had ob- 
 truded itself. He would convince the sorceress 
 by deed, and by word, that he did not fear her ; 
 and that the talisman of his love for Adla would 
 ever protect him. He would call upon her 
 generosity, not to embitter his gratitude by per- 
 secuting him with temptations which he would 
 ever resist, but which troubled the life of his 
 Adla no less than his own. 
 
 He told no one of his intention, but set out. 
 
206 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 He penetrated through the forest ; he ascended 
 the hills ; he did not rest on the alpine meadows, 
 he climbed up the cliffs of the Carpathians ; and 
 when he had left the borders of his own realm 
 far behind, he exclaimed: " Omna, Queen of 
 the Eocks, grant me thy presence ! " 
 
 Hardly had these words escaped his lips, when 
 the majestic woman stood at his side, just as she 
 had appeared at the brink of the precipice, when 
 she saved his life. 
 
 " Thou callest ; I am here," said she, with a 
 radiant smile. " I gladly greet thee in my 
 realm. Art thou sick of the earth below of 
 human follies, and human grief? Thou art 
 right; breathe with me the purer air of the 
 heights; they shall be subject to thee, as they 
 are to me. Yes, more than to me ; thou hast 
 found favour in my eyes, and a woman's favour 
 makes her the slave of him she adores." 
 
 "Be not deceived," interrupted Wladin. "I 
 cannot remain here ; below is my country, and 
 my love : with them rests my life. I am come 
 to claim thy generosity ; leave me undisturbed in 
 my meaner region. Thine is the world far above 
 
THE ROCKS OF LIPNIK. 207 
 
 the land where I breathe in peace. The climate 
 where thou reignest stuns my senses. Thou com- 
 mandest supernatural beings ; I am but of human 
 frame, and cannot live here." 
 
 "Is this thy objection? Know, mine is the 
 balm of eternal youth, and thine it shall be. I 
 touch thy brow, and no wrinkle shall ever 
 dim thy sunny glance. Eemain with me, and 
 thou art free from all earth-born woes. Thine 
 is then the long life of the raven, who for 
 centuries and centuries survives man, and his 
 decay. Thine is the enjoyment of everlasting 
 youth ; thou ever renewest thy vigour like the 
 serpent ; thine is the magnificence of the empire 
 which I abandon to thee ; thine the hidden 
 treasures of the caverns, for whose sake thou- 
 sands of men bury themselves in the dark depth 
 of the mines : subject to thy care the wells which 
 spring forth from the rocks, and stream through 
 the veins of the mountains, to carry life all 
 over the earth. Thine are the flowers, peerless 
 in brightness, peerless in fragrance ; thine the 
 herbs unequalled in virtue, whose juice yields 
 the balm that alleviates sickness and suffering. 
 
208 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 Of all these canst thou dispose, and dispense their 
 riches as thy princely heart desireth." 
 
 " These treasures I covet not ; they never 
 can be mine, O mighty Queen! I know thy 
 realm is loftier than mine thy power is greater ; 
 yet a short life shared with her I love in my 
 humble home, is what I long for, and prefer to 
 centuries of glory." 
 
 u It is not love I claim," Omna continued ; 
 " I claim but gratitude : I have saved thy life ; 
 I offer thee eternal youth, and centuries of un- 
 dimmed vigour. Do not refuse too hastily ; a 
 more exalted prize never has been offered. If 
 thou art really grateful, love will awake in thy 
 breast. Do not bind thy life to a frail tenure ; 
 thy manly mind deserves that its energies be not 
 confined to a score of years. Eeflect once more 
 before thou declinest." 
 
 The Prince said : "I love Adla ; this is my 
 reply/' 
 
 " Thou spurnest ? Well, thou shalt know 
 my power. Thy request is granted ; I never 
 shall tempt thee more ; but we shall see, if thou 
 wilt not seek me. Thou hast known me thy 
 
THE ROCKS OF LIPNIK. 209 
 
 friend. If ever thou meetest me again, it will be 
 as thy enemy : beware !" 
 
 With these words she disappeared. 
 
 Wladin retraced his steps, recapitulating to 
 himself every word the sorceress had said, which 
 awakened sad forebodings. 
 
 Adla was pale, for she had been yearning for 
 his return ; yet joy recalled the blood to her 
 cheeks, and she was lovely as before. The 
 beauty of her features was even more striking 
 than when she had bloomed in full health. 
 But from day to day she grew paler and fainter, 
 an invisible spell seemed to press upon her, and 
 the angel of death at last hovered around 
 her. 
 
 Wladin knew who had conjured up that 
 spirit. He was aware that human art would 
 prove vain, and he cursed the hour when he 
 was saved on the rocks at this price; but he 
 would not submit to the fiendish decree, and 
 he resolved to defy the sorceress herself. He 
 knew that a drop of the balm of youth would 
 save his Adla; this, therefore, he would wrest 
 from the Queen of the Eocks. 
 
210 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 He went to her realm, and summoned her. 
 She appeared majestic as before, but with a 
 look framed to rouse all the evil passions in the 
 bosom of man. 
 
 " Art thou here to beg favours for thy toy ?" 
 she exclaimed, taking from her bosom a small 
 phial, and holding it up. " One drop of this 
 can restore her health, but thou shalt not have 
 it. Dost thou now recognise my power, and 
 thy feebleness ?" 
 
 " Not before we have measured our strength," 
 replied Wladin. 
 
 He rushed forward, grasped her arm, to 
 catch hold of the phial, but in the same 
 moment the sorceress transformed herself into a 
 dragon. Wladin stepped backwards, drew his 
 sword, and said : 
 
 " Thank thee, that thou appearest in thy real 
 shape"; now I can combat thee." 
 
 He attacked her with undaunted courage, 
 but the steel, touched by the glowing breath of 
 the monster, melted in the hand of the Prince. 
 He flung the useless weapon away, and threw 
 both his arms around the neck of the dra- 
 
THE BOOKS OF LIPNIK. 211 
 
 gon. The monster, in agony, coiled round the 
 breast of the hero, but too late he had 
 strangled it. 
 
 He took up the balm, and though seriously 
 wounded, joyfully returned to Adla. She sat in 
 the garden at the fountain, which reflected her 
 marble-like countenance. Flushed with the 
 instinctive glow of joy, she met her lover, who 
 triumphantly presented her the phial. But 
 his face was livid, his hands bore the traces 
 of blood, and he soon sank down in exhaustion. 
 She knelt at his side, she examined his wounds, 
 the venomous teeth of the dragon had im- 
 pressed them with death ; and against this, she 
 knew the balm of youth itself had no power. 
 Without him, life had no charms for her ; she 
 flung the too-highly bought phial into the 
 fountain, and throwing herself into her 
 lover's arms, her heart broke in the same 
 moment when death darkened the eyes of 
 "Wladin. 
 
 The earthly remains of the lovers did not 
 decay : they were transformed into stone. And 
 up to this day, when the wanderer sees the two 
 
212 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 rocks at the fountain of Lipnik, winch in the 
 distance appear to be two human forms clinging 
 to each other, he may learn from the sym- 
 pathizing peasant, the marvellous tale of Wladin 
 and Adla. 
 
 
JACK, THE HOESE-DEALER. 
 
 OF all the German Emperors, none has ever 
 made so lasting an impression on the imagina- 
 tion of the German people, as the Emperor 
 Frederick Barbarossa, the Hohenstauf. His grand 
 struggle against the craft of, the Popedom, the 
 power with which he enforced the German 
 supremacy over Italy, the vigorous rule he main- 
 tained in his realm, and lastly, his mysterious 
 death in the East ;* all this made him the hero 
 of German tradition. The people do not believe 
 him dead, but say that he sits in a magnificent 
 
 * He was drowned while bathing in the river 
 Callikadnus, in Cilicia, during his crusade. 
 
214 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 subterraneous hall, in the midst of the Kyfhauser 
 mountain in Thuringia. On his head shines 
 the Imperial crown ; the purple cloak folds 
 around him ; at his side hangs his victorious 
 sword ; but he sleeps;, his weary head, sunk on 
 his arm, leans against a white marble slab ; the 
 red beard of the" Emperor grows on and on, and 
 has grown through the marble slab down to the 
 ground, and from the ground again up to the slab. 
 
 A young shepherd so tradition relates who 
 had lost one of his sheep, once crept about the 
 caverns of the Kyfhauser, lost his path, and 
 suddenly found himself in the hall of Barbarossa. 
 The Emperor awoke and inquired : " Do the 
 black ravens still fly around the mountain ?" The 
 lad answered: "Yes;" and the Emperor said: 
 " Then my time has not yet ctome " and again 
 began to snore. 
 
 The youth was frightened, and hastened away. 
 He got to daylight only on the third day. A 
 stone, which he had taken from the Imperial 
 hall, served as a proof of the truth of his ac 
 count, for the fragment was ascertained to be 
 pure gold. 
 
 
JACK, THE HORSE-DEALER. 215 
 
 Since then many people have attempted to 
 get into the Kyf hauser, but in vain. Not until a 
 German peasant shall hoist the German stan- 
 dard, and hang his shield on a dry tree, 
 three times felled, and three times grown up 
 again from the root not until this tree shall 
 sprout, will Frederick Barbarossa awake, and 
 restore the great German Empire in its full 
 power and glory. 
 
 The tale of the Emperor Frederick in the 
 Kyf hauser is not unique. We find such tradi- 
 tions in the south no less than in the north of 
 Europe. 
 
 Similarly to Barbarossa, spell-bound in the 
 mountain cavern, Marko Kraljevits too, the 
 king's son, sleeps in the Serbian mountains. 
 
 When once the ..sword, which the Prince has 
 thrown into the Adriatic, shall be carried to 
 shore by the waves, and come into the hands of 
 a hero, then Marko will step forth from the 
 mountain, to erect in the south the great Scla- 
 vonic realm. 
 
 In the Grampian mountains of the Scotch 
 Highlands, Tom the Ehymer likewise assembles 
 
216 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 his knights, and waits for the right man, whom 
 the British isles shall obey. 
 
 When, two years ago, Archduke John of 
 Austria was called from his Styrian farm, where 
 he lived as a peasant, to Frankfort, to be there 
 the Administrator of the Empire, many thought 
 that the spell was broken, which banishes the 
 old Barbarossa to the Kyfhauser. The German 
 Emperor, with the victorious sword on his side, 
 was generally expected, and the tables were 
 already dressed at Frankfort for the banquet of 
 the coronation. But it soon became obvious 
 that the Administrator was, in fact, an Archduke, 
 not a real peasant ; and the ravens, which had 
 assembled from every part of Germany, all 
 croaked together so hoarsely, that the Emperor 
 Frederick, already risen from his marble seat, 
 suddenly relapsed into an iron sleep. 
 
 In the south, too, it was reported that the 
 Ottochans had found an ancient sword at the 
 coast, and had brought it to the Ban Jellachich. 
 
 The whole Sclavonic south fell into commo- 
 tion, and in the mountains Marko himself, the 
 powerful son of the King, was said to have been 
 
JACK, THE HORSE-DEALER. 217 
 
 seen. But every one soon became aware, that 
 the Ban Jellachich, who had girded himself with 
 Marko's sword, was no hero, but a simple cour- 
 tier ; and the movement subsided. Marko sleeps 
 undisturbed as before. 
 
 Tom the Rhymer too, who, during the last 
 century had repeatedly risen, now, since the 
 battle of Culloden Moor, but seldom gives a sign 
 of life. 
 
 On a sultry evening in the summer of 1848, 
 Jack the horse-dealer returned from the market 
 of Fort William. He had sold all but one of 
 his horses, a black steed, which he now rode, 
 after having emptied with his customers many a 
 glass of whisky on the conclusion of a good 
 bargain. 
 
 It was dark before he had passed the Ben 
 Nevis ; nevertheless, as he was well acquainted 
 with the road, he pursued it without fear. 
 
 But when an uncertain moonlight for a mo- 
 ment pierced the clouds, he thought he perceived 
 that he had mistaken his way. The path unex- 
 pectedly went up a very steep hill, and led to 
 
 the side of rocks, quite unknown to him. No 
 10 
 
218 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 doubt Jack strongly had partaken of the Scotch 
 whisky at the market, but now he at once got 
 sober. 
 
 To his great satisfaction he caught sight of 
 a human shape preceding him at hardly fifty 
 paces. At first he conceived it to be a Highland 
 shepherd, and therefore briskly rode up to meet 
 the man, and was just going to request him to 
 show the way, when, approaching more closely, 
 he discerned that he was no shepherd. The 
 stranger had a long silver beard, and wore black 
 garments cut in the Highland fashion ; he met 
 the looks of our horse-dealer with so dignified a 
 glance that Jack could hardly find courage 
 enough to accost him. But the old man relieved 
 his embarrassment by inquiring whether he 
 would sell the black horse he rode ; price was no 
 object, provided he would engage that the horse 
 had not a single white hair on his whole body. 
 
 Jack assured the old Highlander that the steed 
 was black and unstained, and the bargain was 
 immediately concluded. The old man, without 
 further negotiation, paid the price demanded, 
 mounted the horse, and pointed out to Jack a 
 
JACK, THE HORSE-DEALEK. 219 
 
 footpath, by which, he could leave the moun- 
 tains, and get to the canal. But the horse- 
 dealer was not the man to avoid an adventure 
 so favourably begun ; he stopped the stranger 
 and said : 
 
 "It is not .my custom to conclude a dry 
 bargain ; thou hast bought the black horse, now 
 come to the first public-house ; let us drink 
 a draught of whisky together." 
 
 "I never go to a public-house," objected the 
 old man ; " but if thou hast courage, accompany 
 me to my abode ; there I offer you the most 
 excellent wine. But if thou believest that thy 
 courage might sink, then rather return this mo- 
 ment, for if thou shrink 'st after having overstep- 
 ped my threshold, thou art a child of death." 
 
 Jack had always been a stout boxer, and his 
 courage was not lessened by the whisky he had 
 tasted in Fort William. He therefore fearlessly 
 followed his mysterious guide, though he could 
 no longer doubt that this was Tom the 
 Khymer, the great poet king, whose name he 
 had heard mentioned so often by his nurse. 
 
 As Tom was riding along the side of the 
 
220 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 steep declivity, lie touched the rocks with his 
 stick ; they opened, and a narrow subterraneous 
 path became visible. The Ehymer King well 
 noticed that the pulse of his companion beat 
 audibly, and therefore once more admonished 
 him to return if he thought that his heart 
 might fail ; but Jack was now ashamed to 
 withdraw, and boldly followed his guide into 
 the cavern. A faint light, resembling the 
 flash of a will-o'-the-wisp, danced before them 
 on the soil of the cavern ; upon which the hoofs 
 of the black horse sounded hollow. Eound the 
 walls hung black caparisons, armour, and 
 broad claymores, all carefully polished, yet still 
 bearing traces of ancient spots of blood. In the 
 distance flamed a large chimney fire, illumi- 
 nating a spacious hall. In the hall stood nearly 
 a thousand horses, all perfectly black, with 
 black caparisons, and at the side of every 
 steed, stood a knight in black armour, girded 
 with a sword. None of the knights moved 
 all were spell-bound in sleep. 
 
 Jack could not refrain from reviewing the 
 steeds with a jockey's eye, to praise the one and 
 
JACK, THE HORSE-DEALER. 221 
 
 to find fault with most. The old king gladly 
 saw that his g.uest was not devoid of courage. 
 His eyes sparkled, he filled his goblet with the 
 best wine, and offered it to Jack, who emptied 
 it at once. Tom the Ehymer now seized his 
 hand, and led him to a board, on which lay a 
 hunting-horn and a sword in its sheath. 
 
 " Thy fate and that of thy country now rest 
 with thee," said Tom to him. " Choose one of 
 two things : either blow into the horn, or draw 
 the sword from its sheath ; do as thy heart 
 wishes, as thy understanding advises, but know, 
 that thou decidest between power and death. 
 If thou choose well, thou art sovereign of the 
 islands ; if thou err, death is thy lot." 
 
 Jack reflected for a moment, and then blew 
 vigorously into the horn. The walls of the 
 hall trembled, the knights awoke, sprang on 
 their horses, and swung their swords around. 
 But Tom the Ehymer, with a strong hand, 
 seized poor Jack, and thundered in his ears : 
 
 " Fool ! how dared thou blow into the horn, 
 and awake the hidden powers of the night, with- 
 out first having armed thyself with the sword ?" 
 
222 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 Jack lost his senses. On the subsequent 
 morning, lie was found lying beside his grazing 
 horse, at the border of the Loch Lochy, wildly 
 talking of Tom the Ehymer, and his black 
 steeds. The friends of the horse-dealer thought 
 his tale fully explained by the whisky he had. 
 drunk in Fort William ; but a German pro- 
 fessor, who at that time happened to travel in 
 the Highlands, and heard the story to]d by Jack 
 himself, was thoroughly convinced that Tom the 
 Ehymer had intended to give a lesson to the 
 Germans; and that he meant for them what he 
 had said to Jack : " Fools, how dared you to 
 blow into the horn before you have unsheathed 
 the sword?' 
 
KLING-SOHR OF HUNGARY. 
 
 IN the middle ages, when the illustrious art 
 of song was not, as nowadays, only the faint 
 reproduction of the ideas of inventive genius, 
 when it was not a pastime applauded by the 
 idle, and the curious, but the full expression ofi 
 the feelings and thoughts of poet-minstrels, 
 amongst whom Kings were proud to be ranged, 
 the Landgrave Herrmann of Thuringia invited 
 all the celebrated minstrels to his Court, where 
 they were themselves to appoint the prize by 
 which the most accomplished song was to be 
 rewarded. 
 
 Henry of Veldeck, "Walther of the Vogel- 
 weide, Wolfram of Eshenbach, Bitterolf, Rein- 
 hard of Zwetzen, Henry of Ofterdingen, and 
 
224 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 many more of less glorious memory, all obeyed 
 the summons. Each proposed a different prize. 
 One thought a golden crown would best reward 
 the triumphant poet ; another objected, that no 
 crown could equal in glory the stamp of genius, 
 by which nature's own hand marks the brow of 
 the great minstrel. Eiches and honours in 
 every form were tested, but found insufficient ; 
 all acknowledged that success itself was the 
 exalted prize for which alone the poet's heart 
 could yearn ; and at the same time they felt, 
 that to be vanquished was a misery so profound 
 to every lofty mind, that it would be well es- 
 caped by the forfeiture of life. Therefore the 
 triumphant minstrel should simply get a wreath 
 of bays to crown him " king of poetry, 77 and all 
 the minstrels should bow in homage to him, as 
 vassals to their liege. But only the worthiest 
 could enter the list for such prize; mediocrity 
 could not contend ; whoso claimed the crown, 
 must be ready to sacrifice his life, if he failed. 
 A kingdom to the successful ; death to the 
 vanquished I Thus it was unanimously agreed 
 upon. 
 
KLINGSOHR OF HUNGARY. 225 
 
 In the year 1207, tlie minstrels all appeared 
 on the appointed day, in the great hall of 
 Wartburg, to compete in song, and thus to war 
 for the crown. The whole Court was assembled 
 in festive magnificence. The Landgrave Herr- 
 mann presided ; many renowned knights had 
 come to witness the issue of the day. The 
 fairest dames sat around, above whom the 
 Landgravine Sophia shone in beauty, and in 
 loveliness. The doors of the spacious hall were 
 all thrown open, that the people might view 
 the triumph of the victor. But none offered to 
 undergo the dangerous combat, except Wolfram 
 of Eshenbach, and Henry of Ofterdingen ; they 
 stepped forward, and were greeted by loud 
 applause, and many a secret sigh. 
 
 Henry of Ofterdingen begins. His voice 
 leads to the paradise of love, where root the 
 blessings of the heart, where bloom the flowers 
 of eternal spring, where shines the morning sun 
 of sympathy. The harp re-echoes the melodious 
 strains, and melts the glowing feeling of passionate 
 affection into tears and longing. 
 
 " His is the prize I" then exclaimed thou- 
 10* 
 
226 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 -sands of softly vibrating voices, and a thousand 
 smiles thanked the youthful poet. His golden 
 curls cover his snowy brow as he bows in 
 gratitude. 
 
 Wolfram of Eshenbach now takes the place. 
 His harp sounds in proud harmonies, his words 
 describe the glorious deeds of heroes, who 
 struggle for the truths of Christendom, and fall 
 in holy battle. Faith-imbibing power streams 
 from his lips, and spreads enthusiasm around. 
 
 " "Wolfram is the conqueror!" is the verdict pro- 
 nounced by Landgrave Herrmann, and approved 
 by the arbiters. Landgravine Sophia trembles, 
 the wreath of laurels she holds falls to the floor. 
 In the background appears the executioner, the 
 polished sword in his raised hand. Deadly 
 silence ensues. No one will be the first to press 
 the execution of the sentence. The dark eye of 
 Wolfram himself is anxiously bent on his rival ; 
 but Henry of Ofterdingen approaches the 
 Princess, kneels at her feet, takes up the green 
 wreath, and returning it to her, says : 
 
 " I am judged to have forfeited this prize. 
 I do not care for an inglorious life, but I can- 
 
KLINGSOHR OF HUNGARY. 227 
 
 not die without protesting what I feel to be 
 true ; that though "Wolfram of Eshenbach ex- 
 cels in the powerful expression of undaunted 
 faith and illustrious deeds, yet he is not the 
 king of poetry. His is the bloody field of 
 battle, the world of generous martyrdom ; mine 
 are the lays of love, streaming from my heart 
 as freely as the crystal resources from the mother 
 earth. Whose is the prize? Is it due to the 
 eagle, who moves the breeze by the power of 
 his wings, or to the swan, who re-echoes the 
 gentle murmur of the waves? There is one 
 who unites the charm of melody with command- 
 ing harmony, but he resides in distant lands. To 
 him alone I bow, in full consciousness of his 
 superiority, proud to be a vassal in his realm 
 not to Wolfram." 
 
 Sophia had thrown the ermine border of her 
 purple cloak around the shoulders of the kneeling 
 minstrel to protect his life ; but Henry of Ofter- 
 dingen now rose to meet his fate, when Wolfram 
 of Eshenbach exclaimed : 
 
 " Stop ! a contested crown is worthless ; my 
 sovereignty must be acknowledged by the rival 
 
228 POPULAR TALES OF 'HUNGARY. 
 
 himself whom I have defeated, or it bears the 
 stamp of usurpation. Let him fetch the poet 
 whom he deems worthy to wear the laurel; till 
 then the crown may rest in abeyance. Let it be 
 proved whether the stranger deserves the exalted 
 praises, or whether it is the fear of death that 
 inspired Henry with panegyrics." 
 
 " I say but what I can prove," interrupted 
 Ofterdingen with passionate accents ; " he 
 is the king of song, who dwells afar on the 
 wide plain Klingsohr of Hungary, the minstrel 
 of all minstrels. If you grant me one year from 
 this day, I will seek him over hill and dale. I 
 will wander through the woods and over the 
 heath, and will never rest till I lead him hither 
 < him who surpasses us in power and tender- 
 ness, and who is alone worthy to fill the world 
 with his renown ; and if this is not recognised 
 unanimously, then I shall gladly die, justly con- 
 demned for a vain boast." 
 
 " Thus be it," replied the Landgrave; "but 
 know that, if thou dost not appear on the 
 appointed day, the strings of thy harp shall be 
 rent by the executioner, and thy shield shall 
 
KLINGSOHE OF HUNGARY. 229 
 
 be broken by the hangman. In the meantime 
 Wolfram may take the crown, and wear it till a 
 worthier comes, whom we can recognise his 
 liege.' 7 
 
 Henry bowed with a bitter smile, .glanced 
 gratefully at the Princess, who stretched out her 
 hand, as if to say, " Heaven protect thy path! r 
 and left the hall. 
 
 The way was long, but the minstrel hastened 
 over land and stream, to view the country, blessed 
 by the richest gifts of nature the country 
 where the soil returns a hundredfold what it 
 receives the country which profusely yields 
 iron to till and protect its fertile ground, and 
 silver and gold which rule the world the 
 country which hides in its depth the opals 
 sparkling dew-drops of Heaven, cherished in 
 the cool caverns of earth, condensing and beau- 
 tifying the light which they reject the country 
 of a noble race, proud to be the freest and the 
 most loyal all over the world, honouring woman, 
 not as the idol of passion, but as the mother of the 
 brave, and sharer of his toils and of his glory. 
 
 But all this Henry of Ofterdingen little heeded. 
 
230 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 His thoughts were bent upon his purpose, to 
 find the greatest minstrel of the age, that his 
 voice might resound all over Germany. 
 
 Steep were the paths, and rapid was the 
 stream. The youth climbs over the rocky 
 mountains, and sails along the rapids, but still 
 is far from him he seeks. Everywhere he hears 
 songs, and cannot doubt their author. He goes 
 down into the depth of the mountains, and 
 inquires from the miner : 
 
 " Whose is the song thou singest? is it not 
 Klingsohr's ?" 
 
 The miner replied: "I learned it from the 
 subterraneous waters, dropping slowly down 
 from the rocky walls in melodious cadence, 
 and purling in unfathomed depth; but of 
 Klingsohr I never heard." 
 
 Henry mounted to. the hills, where the ever 
 beaming sun ripens the grapes, and imparts its 
 glow to the sparkling wine. He hears the glee 
 of the vintager, and inquires : 
 
 " Whose is the song thou singest; is it not 
 Klingsohr's?" 
 
 " I do not know such a name. The swallow 
 
KLINGSOHK OF HUNGARY. 231 
 
 and the stork bring the songs, when they come 
 in spring. I repeat what they teach." 
 
 Henry wandered where the darkness of virgin 
 forests filled the heart with awe. He listened 
 to the melancholy whistle of the robber, to the 
 distant doleful sound of the hunter's-horn ; he 
 asked whose tunes they repeated? and robber 
 and huntsman replied : " We do but repeat 
 the rustling of the leaves when they fall in 
 autumn." 
 
 Henry descended to the unbounded plain; 
 he heard the lays, here of the shepherd at his 
 fire, there of the reaper on the wheat-field. 
 
 ""Whose are these melodies? are they not 
 Klingsohr's?" he inquired. 
 
 " The wind brings them along the plain ; 
 the murmuring waters, the warbling birds, the 
 rustling leaves know them ; why should not we 
 learn them also ? but the man you mentioned, 
 we do not know him." 
 
 Henry proceeded farther, restless and sleep- 
 less. Months had passed since he had set out ; 
 he was met everywhere by the echoes of the 
 minstrel, but him he had not found ; and if he 
 
232 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGABY. 
 
 could not soon trace liim out, death, and sliame 
 awaited the German poet. 
 
 The sun had set, the shadows of the evening 
 lengthened, when over the green plains he ar- 
 rived at the banks of the yellow Theiss, where 
 nothing fettered his view but the deep blue 
 canopy of heaven. His ear was struck by 
 melodious strains; he listened breathless, and 
 heard: 
 
 " Plain of Hungary ! Thy luxuriant vegeta- 
 tion withers where it stands ; thy rivers flow in 
 silence among their reed-covered banks. Thine 
 is not the grandeur of mountain scenery, not 
 the soft beauty of the valley, not the majestic 
 shade of the forest. It is not one single beauty 
 which reminds us of thee: but who will ever 
 forget the awe he felt, when the rising sun 
 poured his golden light on thee ; or when, in 
 the hours of noon, the Fairy Morgana covered 
 the shadeless expanse with flowery lakes, like the 
 scorched land's dream of the sea ; or at night, 
 when all was so still that the breeze of the 
 evening came to the wanderer's ears, sighing 
 amidst the grass. Boundless plain of my 
 
KLINGSOHR OF HUNGARY. 233 
 
 country, thou art more grand than the moun- 
 tains of this earth. A peer art thou of the 
 boundless ocean, imparting a freer pulsation to 
 the heart, extending onward, and far as the eye 
 can reach ! 
 
 " Vast plain, thou art the image of my people. 
 Hopeful, but solitary ; thou art made to bless 
 generations by the profuseness of thy wealth. 
 Thy energies are still slumbering ; and the cen- 
 turies which have passed over thee have departed 
 without seeing the day of thy gladness! But 
 thy genius, though hidden, is mighty within 
 thee ! and there is a boding voice in my heart, 
 which tells me that the great time is at hand. 
 Plain of my country, mayst thou flourish I and 
 may the people flourish which inhabit thee ! 
 Happy he who sees the day of thy glory ; and 
 happy those whose present affliction is lightened 
 by the conviction that they are devoting their 
 energies to prepare the way for that better time, 
 which is sure to come I"* 
 
 * It is almost superfluous to mention, that the song of 
 Klingsohr is borrowed from Baron Joseph Eotvos, who with 
 these words winds up his Village Notary. 
 
234 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 The singer rose. The expression of his 
 proud forehead was softened by the smile of his 
 lip, and the brilliant glow of his dark-blue eyes 
 brightened the paleness of his noble coun- 
 tenance, enframed by a dark beard. Wrapt in 
 the white cloak of the peasant, he graciously 
 greeted the German minstrel, who addressed 
 him with the words': " Thou art Klingsohr of 
 Hungary." 
 
 " And if I am Klingsohr of Hungary, what 
 more ?" 
 
 " Thou sing'st here in the lonely wilderness, 
 unheard, and unadmired. Even the people who 
 repeat thy songs, do not know thy name. But 
 in Germany honour awaits the minstrels ; they 
 are at the table of Kings and Princes. Hast thou 
 not heard of the war of the Wartburg ?" 
 
 " My country lives in peace, what do I care 
 for foreign feuds?" 
 
 " It is not a struggle between kings, but a 
 glorious combat of song. Herrmann of Thu- 
 ringia has summoned all the poets to contend in 
 his presence for the crown of song, he bestows 
 it on the worthiest, and recognizes him as his 
 
KLINGSOHR OF HUNGARY. 235 
 
 peer, and all minstrels must bow to him in 
 homage as vassals to their liege. And dost thou 
 remain here in the desert, whilst mediocrity 
 usurps what thou alone can'st claim?" 
 
 Klingsohr smiled. 
 
 " Germans, do you think that the crown 
 of poetry can be bestowed by princes, that it 
 needs a crown of bays from the hand of a 
 princess to be the peer of kings? Does the 
 nightingale require the crown of song from the 
 hands of Landgrave Herrmann? The people 
 alone give the crown. Whosesoever songs 
 they singj he sways over their hearts. And 
 they do not give it to him who seeks it ; they 
 give it to him who sings undesigningly as the 
 nightingale, not for a crown, not even for the 
 thanks of love, but because the spirit urges 
 him ; to him who sings for the flowers and the 
 birds, for the waves and the winds, not caring 
 whether man hears him. The sincere expres- 
 sion of feeling is never lost, nature conveys it to 
 the hearts of men." 
 
 "Klingsohr. thou art greater than I could 
 conceive. I now perceive that not only the 
 
236 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 meanest but the greatest too, can spurn fame. 
 Thou refusest the prize which others covet; 
 thou art right : honour cannot be conferred on 
 thee. But what thou wilt not do for glory's 
 sake, that do for my sake, whom death and 
 shame await, if I cannot prove that there lives 
 one greater than Wolfram of Eshenbach, who 
 was judged superior to me when we waged war 
 for the crown on the Wartburg. I am Henry 
 of Ofterdingen." 
 
 " Do you then kill the finch in Thuringia 
 because his strains are different from those of 
 the lark? Do you thus admire song? Well, 
 I will go with thee, thou shalt not die, though 
 I am not willing to deprive thy rival of his 
 princely toy. Princes reward the courtier, not 
 the poet." 
 
 They started. The anniversary of the Wart- 
 burg war is come. In the hall of the Landgrave 
 all the minstrels are assembled anew, at their 
 head Wolfram, with the garland of bays. 
 Prince Herrmann and Sophia, his consort, sat 
 on the throne, surrounded by cavaliers and 
 dames awaiting the events of the day. To 
 
KLINGSOHK OF HUNGAKY. 237 
 
 beguile the hours of expectation, the minstrels 
 had sung many a lay, but Henry and the 
 mysterious stranger did not arrive ; it struck 
 noon, and the brow of the Landgrave darkened ; 
 he made a sign with his hand, and the red 
 cloak of the executioner appeared in the court 
 below, where the harp and the shield of the 
 absent minstrel lay on the ground, and a 
 numberless multitude thronged to witness the 
 spectacle of the pompous degradation of their 
 favourite. 
 
 The Princess's cheeks were pale, her eyes were 
 fixed on a distant cloud of dust : " They come !" 
 she exclaimed. The Landgrave stepped to the 
 balcony ; two horses were visible, approaching 
 the castle at full speed : it was Henry and Kling- 
 sohr. Cheers received them. They entered the 
 hall. Klingsohr bowed with courteous dignity 
 to the Princess Sophia, and cordially offered his 
 hand to Wolfram, whom he recognized by the 
 wreath of bays. He then approached the harp 
 and sung : 
 
 " A seer, I address thee, Prince of Thuringia ; 
 the veil of the future is lifted before the eyes of 
 
238 POPULAK TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 the poet. I sing to thee of days to come, 
 more radiant in their reality than the dreams of 
 imagination. 
 
 " Happiness attends thy son. In this very 
 hour to King Andrew of Hungary a daughter is 
 born, who is to be the wife of Prince Louis 
 posterity will call her St. Elizabeth. My mighty 
 King will send her to thee in a silver cradle, with 
 heaps of riches, but none will equal the treasures 
 of her heart. She will live an angel on earth ; and 
 when her earthly course is closed, the nightingale 
 will sing a requiem at her bier, and ever-blooming 
 roses shall unfold their chalices on her grave. 
 
 " But her descendants will not extend their 
 sway in the land of their fathers. Thuringia 
 shall be divided between them. Yet glory will 
 never cease to surround them. 
 
 " There will come a time when war will rage 
 all over the world, when the hosts of the west 
 and the south, and those of the north and the 
 east, will meet in battle array on the field of 
 Germany, and the song of poetry shall be drowned 
 in the clashing of arms. Then thy house shall 
 be the peaceful abode where the poets, and men 
 
KLINGSOHK OF HUNGARY. 239 
 
 of thought, shall find shelter and hospitality. On 
 this oasis they will plant the palm whose fra- 
 grance will impart peace to the mind ; they will 
 sow the seed of ever-blooming beauty, ennobling 
 the German soil, and its plants shall be carried 
 all over the earth. United in friendship to their 
 illustrious Prince, their ashes shall rest with his, 
 and thy land shall become the holy ground, 
 where all will go on pilgrimage whose thoughts 
 are not absorbed by worldly gain, but whose life 
 is devoted to the worship of genius. 
 
 "And another branch of thy stem will be 
 adorned with the crown of love. 
 
 " Where the Tagus rolls the golden sand into 
 the ocean, and on the blessed islands of the 
 west, thy sons shall reign over the heart of the 
 Queen, whose sway will extend over the lands 
 and the waves. And the nations they shall 
 govern will be the strongholds of liberty, and 
 their energy will trace the way to an unknown 
 world yet covered with darkness, and will carry 
 the light of religion and civilization back to the 
 Bast, from whence it issued." 
 
 And Klingsohr continued to sing of the won- 
 
240 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 ders of the East, and as his powerful strains 
 unfolded the whole brilliancy of Eastern imagi- 
 nation those dazzling tales of Arabia, whose 
 sunny spell charms the senses as a dream of 
 everlasting youth Wolfram took the bays from 
 his own head and affixed it to the minstrel of 
 Hungary. He felt that he was vanquished, and 
 cordially proffered his hand to Henry of Ofter- 
 dingen. Both did homage to their great master ; 
 and the Landgrave stepped from the throne, 
 shook hands with the stranger, and said : 
 
 "Kemain here between us, thy admirers and 
 thy friends wear the crown of bays, and reign 
 in the realm of poetry, that thy lays may gladden 
 our hearts, and thy name may be praised through- 
 out the world." 
 
 But Klingsohr replied: "My world is my 
 country, and the delight of my people the only 
 prize of my song. In the realm of poetry there 
 is no king ; the bay sprouts new leaves every 
 spring : they suffice to twine a garland for every 
 one of us." 
 
 He laid down the wreath at the feet of the 
 Princess, and retired. He vaulted on his 
 
KLINGSOHR OF HUNGARY. 241 
 
 steed and was gone. Germany had heard him 
 once and never more ; like a flaming comet he 
 appeared, but to vanish for ever. He returned 
 to the unbounded plain of his country, and to 
 the green banks of the Theiss; his songs died 
 away with the winds ; but their spirit yet lives 
 in the glees of the people, in the songs of the 
 Hungarian heath, of the Kisfaludys and Kolcseys, 
 the Tompas and Grarays, the Vorosmartys and 
 Petofys. It is the spell of Klingsohr's harp that 
 still charms us in their lays. 
 
 11 
 
TANOSH THE HERO. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 IN the Mahommedan east, where the social 
 relations are more simple, we do not meet with 
 such marked contrasts in education as among 
 ourselves. The amount of knowledge is not great 
 with those who govern as Pashas, Mollas, and 
 Kadis. But the herdsman and the sack-bearer, 
 who occupy the lowest degrees of social hierarchy, 
 stand comparatively higher in their intellectual 
 development, than the Irish peasant or the 
 London street-sweeper. 
 
 The Koran is the religious and civil code for 
 all no one is ignorant of its contents; and 
 
YANOSH THE HERO. 248 
 
 these develop the understanding, whilst lays of 
 celebrated poets and the charming traditions of 
 the people satisfy imagination and taste. 
 
 This kind of education is accessible to every 
 one, to the poor as to the rich, and thence it 
 comes about that when the favour of chance 
 raises the son of the peasant, the pipe-dealer, or 
 the slave to the first dignities of the realm, the 
 low-born men keep up their newly-attained 
 station with an aristocratic dignity most strik- 
 ing to Europeans. The circle of notions in 
 which the new dignitary moves, is not alto- 
 gether strange to him. The cultivation of his 
 mind was but little different from the instruc- 
 tion enjoyed by the son of the Pasha. The 
 higher ranks in Turkey and Persia have no 
 literature of their own. The productions of the 
 poet and the story-teller are not devoted to any 
 peculiar caste, but belong to the people at large ; 
 they sing for every one who will listen to them. 
 The case is different with us. Knowledge and 
 experience have multiplied to so great a mea- 
 sure, that very few can comprise all the results 
 of science. The relations of state and society 
 
244 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 have grown so complicated and so artificial, that 
 only the minority of a nation can possibly ac- 
 quire the means of studying at their leisure, or 
 enjoying the- intellectual acquisitions of modern 
 times. Not only in respect of social position, and 
 of wealth and refinement, but even as to educa- 
 tion, to the direction of feelings and thoughts, 
 and in consequence their way of expression, a 
 wide gap exists with us between the higher and 
 lower classes. 
 
 As in ancient Koine, .the Plebeians and the 
 Patricians, so now in the most civilized states of 
 modern Europe, under the apparent dominion 
 of free institutions, we meet two entirely diffe- 
 rent nations opposed to one another, if not 
 inimically, yet at least as strangers. This schism 
 is fully explained by the difference of social 
 position and by the neglect of the people's edu- 
 cation ; and cannot with any conscientious 
 scrutiny be traced to the first epoch of con- 
 quests, and be attributed to the difference of 
 races. 
 
 In England unmixed Saxon or Norman blood 
 is as little to be found as in France purely Gallic 
 
YANOSH, THE HERO. 245 
 
 or Frank offspring. In the higher, equally as 
 in the lower classes, we find many descendants 
 both of the conquerors, and of the conquered ; 
 yet, in spite of this fact, the distance between 
 the more and less elevated orders is as great as 
 if the aristocracy had in our own days estab- 
 lished itself by unscrupulous force : and the 
 common people fancy that the rich mete out to 
 them no other justice than that of the insolent 
 Gaul, who threw his sword into the scale. 
 
 The turn of mind in these two distinct 
 bodies for the rich of the middle class have 
 everywhere more or less amalgamated with the 
 aristocracy differs so entirely from each other, 
 that they conceive their interests to be in oppo- 
 sition. They remain strangers in social relation 
 strangers in their thoughts, and their feelings. 
 
 Since the systematic national debt, and in- 
 creased taxation have made longer and severer 
 labour habitual to the people, the leisure time 
 and spare energies of the poor prove insufficient 
 to inquire the knowledge possessed by our age. 
 The waste of public money has not enriched the 
 lower orders, either morally or materially ; whilst 
 
246 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 the higher ranks have increased in wealth and 
 refinement, and thus are separated from the mass 
 of the population. 
 
 This contrast became too striking to be over- 
 looked, when it threatened the security of the 
 reigning classes. In Ireland, for example, 
 through many a long mile no house is to be 
 met offering perfect shelter against wind and 
 weather. But pauperism is not stopped at the 
 hut of the starved tenant ; the castle of the 
 landlord, too, who did not prevent the misery 
 of the people, is sold by the Encumbered 
 Estates' Commission, or is swallowed up by poor- 
 rates. 
 
 In France, indeed, every political revolution 
 was more or less a social one, attacking not only 
 the privileges of orders, but likewise property. 
 So now in England, philanthropy and politics, 
 Christian duty and fear of the Proletarians, have 
 begun to inquire into the state of labour, and 
 of the poor. Philosophical research, and not 
 seldom thoughtless curiosity, have unfolded the 
 mysteries of low life. Infant asylums and 
 ragged schools, emigration companies and 
 
YANOSH, THE HERO. 247 
 
 cheap buildings, workhouses and model-prisons 
 have been established. Social theories have 
 been advanced, and refuted ; and statistics, 
 both official and private, published on this 
 subject. Yet all this has only served to confirm 
 the belief, that society is divided into two 
 opposed parties, to unite which, all efforts have 
 hitherto proved ineffective. Every one sees the 
 dangers of the present state of society, but no 
 one knows how to avoid them. 
 
 It was natural that the writers of fiction took 
 no different course from the philosopher and the 
 statesman. More than one economist, develop- 
 ing his fanciful theories, unconsciously became 
 a poet, and more than one poet became a dry 
 economist ; his novels were nothing but political 
 principles, mise en scene. 
 
 But the people as little read the dreams of 
 the philosopher as the dry systems of the poet. 
 Their imagination has ever had a different course. 
 In its tales and its traditions are preserved such 
 treasures of poetry, that they can easily do with- 
 out the artificial productions officiously offered 
 them. But certainly it is not easy to write 
 
248 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 for the people. The different mould of the 
 estranged classes makes it difficult for the author 
 to adapt his ideas to the notions of the lower 
 orders. He too often ascribes to them desires, 
 privations, and views, that belong to a totally 
 different society. 
 
 This was the case in the earliest times. The 
 bucolic songs of those great Alexandrian scho- 
 lars, Theocritus, Moschos, and Bion, and the 
 eclogues of Virgil, are as little faithful pictures 
 of ancient pastoral life, as the shepherd comedies 
 under Louis the Fifteenth, or -the idyls of the 
 German Gessner give accurate notions of the 
 country pleasures in these times. Charles 
 Dickens's novels, and even those of Eugene 
 Sue, have had a great effect on the population, 
 but chiefly in the towns whose corruptions they 
 prominently portray. 
 
 The simple life of the country people has also 
 become the subject of several lovely tales per- 
 vaded by more truth, and therefore by more 
 poetry, than the bucolic songs of previous centu- 
 ries. Auerbach's and Weill's tales are known in 
 England, by Mrs. Taylor's and Lady Duff Gor- 
 
YANOSH, THE HERO. 249 
 
 don's elegant translations. Still more charm- 
 ing than these are the novels of George 
 Sand, "La Mare au Diable," "Le Champi," 
 and " La petite Fadette." They are radiant with 
 the pure gold of this great poetess's imagination, 
 without any of the dross that stains so many of 
 her compositions. 
 
 These pictures of rural life are unostentatious. 
 Their horizon does not extend beyond the steeple 
 of the next village ; the groups they sketch are 
 inartificial, and wholly devoid of the theatrical 
 effect with which the Bulwers, Dumases, and 
 Sues, dazzle the mind. The hero is no pri- 
 soner; he commits no. murder or suicide; he is 
 not hanged ; he does not even come into contact 
 with the police ; and nevertheless the situations 
 are so varied and so attractive, that they fix 
 and satisfy the attention of the reader and purify 
 the soul far more which, according to Aris- 
 totle, is the aim of tragedy than the soul-stirring 
 novels so popular with circulating libraries. 
 
 Yet, great as is the delight offered by these 
 tales to the higher orders of society, it is 
 
 doubtful whether their charm is fully enjoyed 
 11* 
 
250 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 by the people. The uneducated poor find little 
 interest in faithful pictures of their toilful ex- 
 istence. Their imagination loves not the con- 
 fined limits of their daily doings and strivings, 
 but soars from the soil of reality to the realm 
 of supernatural powers. Giants and sorcerers, 
 dragons and fairies, are the creatures of its 
 dreams : and it loves the tales in which these 
 visions are reproduced. Therefore the peasant 
 gladly listens to the mate, and to the soldier, 
 who relate the wonders of the sea, and of dis- 
 tant countries ; the most adventurous and fabu- 
 lous tale excites most admiration, and is so 
 often repeated with applause by the story-teller, 
 that, with the credulity inherent in the many, he 
 at last himself believes he has really seen and 
 heard what he describes. 
 
 A tale of this kind is John the Hero, the 
 popular Hungarian poem of Alexander Petofy ; it 
 gives us a faithful picture of the life of the Hun- 
 garian peasant, and of the turn of his imagination. 
 It is hardly necessary to point out the great af- 
 finity between this poem and the Arabian Tales. 
 -The hero does not remain in the humble sphere 
 
YANOSH, THE HERO. 251 
 
 of his birth ; he becomes a soldier, and all the 
 marvels of distant countries are introduced into 
 the tale, which farther proceeds to the fairy 
 land in which the vulgar delight. The opening 
 of the poem is therefore a simple village tale in 
 truth, without the deep insight into the heart 
 found in the pages of Auerbach, or of George 
 Sand, but abounding in striking incidents, all 
 characteristically Hungarian, amidst the peculiar 
 scenery of the great plain of the Theiss, sketched 
 with the most faithful accuracy, and intense feel- 
 ing for the beauties of nature. 
 
 The poet leads us with marked consistency 
 through all the changes of daily phenomena. 
 "Whenever he mentions sunrise, its course is 
 precisely recorded during that whole portion of 
 the tale ; and the scenes of nature are always 
 brought into connection with the hero's dispo- 
 sition of mind : the scenery is not a lifeless 
 ornament, but an organic part of the poem. 
 But this is a characteristic feature with primitive 
 ballads, and national songs in general. The 
 Hungarian national songs often begin with 
 some words describing nature, and solely linked 
 
252 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 by the rhyme to the lay, forming apparently a 
 dissonance ; and yet this abrupt transition is not 
 unfavourable to the harmony of the impression, 
 as that unconnected phrase serves to impress 
 the soul with the disposition required by the lay 
 which it thus introduces ; it is in fact like a 
 prelude to a piece of music. Its charm can 
 hardly be preserved in any translation, and so 
 much the less when the version is unrhymed, 
 as the one I have attempted. The original tale 
 written in four-lined stanzas of alexandrines, is 
 well adapted in the Hungarian language for 
 popular tales. In the translation I have adopted 
 blank verse, in order not to be diverted by the 
 exigencies of the rhyme from following the 
 original exactly, though not unaware that the 
 simplicity of an idyl is little fit for this metre, in 
 which the deficiency in the musical element 
 needs to be supplied by the richness and pomp 
 of the style, which therefore better suits the 
 rhetorical declamation of Eoman poetry than 
 the account of a peasant's life. But to a trans- 
 lation in prose my feeling still more objected; 
 as even the most conscientious one can never 
 
YANOSH THE HERO. 253 
 
 give a more precise notion of the original than 
 perhaps the back of a Gobelin tapestry of its 
 face ; we see the same lines, the same colours, 
 yet by no means the same harmony. May, 
 therefore, my essay be excused by my desire to 
 give the English public a specimen of Hungarian 
 popular poetry, not wholly shapeless, and yet in 
 its spirit faithfully adhering to the original. 
 
 The continuation of the tale, which describes 
 the hero's soldier-life, will appear very strange 
 to many readers ; but its adventurous character is 
 one of the features most striking to the imagina- 
 tion of the Hungarian peasant. 
 
 The Obsitos (hussar on furlough,) is always 
 very popular in the peasant's hut, and in the 
 public-house. After ten, often after twenty 
 years, during which he has been mostly stationed 
 in foreign countries, he at last returns to the 
 village of his birth, where relatives and friends 
 triumphantly greet him. As an experienced 
 man, who has seen the world, he relates his 
 adventures over a jug of wine to the wondering 
 people. All he has seen and heard assumes a 
 fabulous shape in his memory ; and from fond- 
 
254 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 ness of being admired, and with the natural 
 desire to appear something very wonderful, lie 
 tells the most astounding stories. 
 
 One remembrance ever fills him with disgust 
 the retrospect of his tiresome service in times 
 of peace, when he was compelled daily to clean 
 the buttons of his regimentals like so many mir- 
 rors ; the irksomeness of this duty he never can 
 forget. But then he relates with a more radiant 
 countenance, how he passed the Alps, and saw 
 that they reached up to the moon, so that he was 
 able to caress her jolly face. 
 
 " What then did the moon do when you 
 kissed her jolly face?" 
 
 " Saucy lad/' interrupts the greybeard : " she 
 complacently purred like a cat." 
 
 He proceeds to describe how he got farther 
 and farther to the very last end of the world. 
 
 " And what did you do there ?" inquires a pert 
 little girl. 
 
 " Well, I sat down on the brink of the world, 
 and swung my feet over the boundless nothing" 
 
 " And have you not likewise been up to 
 heaven, Bacsi?" is again inquired. 
 
YANOSH, THE HERO. 255 
 
 " To be sure, I was there once." 
 
 " Goodness me, how pleasant that must have 
 been ! Certainly, up above, there is no need to 
 work, and food and wine are in plenty." 
 
 u Silly boy," retorts the old hussar ; " there is 
 work enough. The stars have to be cleaned all 
 day long with chalk and spirits, so that in the 
 evening when they are hung up, they may shine 
 brilliantly, and there is little rest for the soldier, 
 as the old saints have all double sentinels at 
 their doors. But the Temple of St. Peter ! that 
 is the largest building all over the earth, and far 
 prettier than anything I knew in heaven." He 
 continues : " When we were commanded there 
 to the church parade, we were obliged to keep 
 two days of rest before we could get from the 
 gate to the chief altar." 
 
 But all these accounts are dull in comparison 
 with the sketches the hussar gives of his feats. 
 
 "At Leipzig/' he continues, "the Emperor 
 Napoleon fled, and I took him prisoner with my 
 own hands. But the Empress, Maria Louisa, 
 who sat in the carriage at the side of her consort, 
 wept so bitterly, that I released the Emperor, 
 
t 
 
 256 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 and the empress presented me in gratitude with 
 her gold watch." 
 
 " But where is the gold watch ?" inquires the 
 village notary. 
 
 " Mister Notary, this you do not understand," 
 says the hussar. " My Lieutenant was once 
 embarrassed for money, and the Jews gave him 
 no more credit, so I made him a present of the 
 gold watch that he might not be put on reduced 
 allowance." 
 
 The adventures of the hero Yanosh are of a 
 similar kind. The geographical knowledge of a 
 Hungarian hussar is still less perfect than that 
 of a well-informed Frenchman, who, as is gene- 
 rally known, little excels in that branch of 
 science. To the Hungarian soldier it is only 
 familiar in connection with certain historical 
 reminiscences. The tradition of the Mongol 
 invasion under Batu-Khan in the thirteenth cen- 
 tury is still current in Hungary, and the tale 
 of dog-headed Tartars this is the name given 
 to the Mongols by the Hungarian annalists 
 remains most popular. A man who has seen 
 the world and encountered many dangers, must 
 
YANOSH, THE HERO. 257 
 
 in the opinion of the peasants necessarily 
 have been in the country of the dog-heads. 
 Of Italy the hussar only recollects that the 
 rosemary, which in his own country is but a 
 shrub, becomes there a thick and lofty bush, 
 and that he himself suffered in the distant land 
 much more from cold than at home, whose people 
 are better provided against the hard season than 
 in the southern climates, in which closely fitting 
 doors, double windows, and stoves are utterly 
 unknown. % Of France he has likewise some 
 idea, remembering that for twenty years he has 
 fought against the French, though he is igno- 
 rant why; all he recollects is that it was 
 always said the King, having been unjustly 
 robbed of his crown, must again be set upon 
 his throne. And this poor sovereign (Louis 
 the Eighteenth) is by no means a hero ; he 
 does not go with his army, but is an amiable, 
 kind-hearted man, especially fond of a good table. 
 These few traditional notions are worked out 
 with great skiy. in the second part of Petofy's 
 poem ; though in the translation it will appear 
 clumsy and little short of prosaic, still it is a 
 
258 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 faithful copy of the hussar's adventurous ac- 
 count. The reader's patience is entreated to 
 the early part of the tale, which is by no means 
 equal in merit to the latter portion. If he will 
 persevere in reading, he will probably find that 
 he is repaid for any. little eifort which it may 
 require. 
 
 In the third part the hero reaches fairy- 
 land, a theme well known by the traditions and 
 tales of the East and of the West ; but the form 
 is nevertheless differently moulded* with every 
 different people. 
 
 In the Hungarian fairy-tale the number three 
 is always of the highest importance. The hero 
 has always three principal adventures; he de- 
 livers three unhappy Princesses, every spell- 
 bound palace has three gates, every magician 
 and every witch assumes three different shapes. 
 But the peculiar stamp of the Hungarian fairy- 
 tale consists in a greater dryness of imagina- 
 tion than pervades the charming Arabian Tales, 
 to which in brilliancy of style they are more 
 similar than to the genuine simplicity of the 
 German Tales. 
 
FANOSH, THE HERO. 259 
 
 The poem of Petofy'has all the faults and all 
 the merits of the Hungarian legend. "When 
 John the hero loses himself in the enchanted 
 wood and thus steps into the fairy land, he first 
 meets the rock-eating giants, who remind us of 
 the giants of northern mythology ; but after he 
 has conquered them, his second adventure comes 
 on one of quite a mediaeval kind his struggle 
 with the witches. When he has punished 
 them, and has not been terrified by the ghosts, 
 he gets to the fairy sea, which separates the 
 physical world from the abode of the genii, 
 living in eternal felicity at the source of youth. 
 It is obvious that the charming tradition of 
 Avalon and of the Venus-mountain, which we 
 find in the mediaeval poems all over Europe, 
 have their root in classical antiquity. Grecian 
 phantasy long since dreamed of the isles shining 
 in lovely twilight in the distant West beyond 
 the Pillars of Hercules ; and the Atlantis as 
 well as the Isle of Leuk6, to which Thetis leads 
 her son Achilles on sea-horses, accompanied by 
 Tritons and Nereides, to wed him to the beau- 
 tiful Helena, are variations of tnat tradition 
 
260 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 which still finds its echo' in the poem of Petofy. 
 The fairy Queen Helen has in fact survived 
 the Greek tale ; she remained popular in the 
 middle ages even before the revival of classical 
 studies ; and the German Faust too is wedded to 
 her. 
 
 The loadstone island, with the Venus-moun- 
 tain, which we find in the fairy tales of the 
 East, and in the traditions of Charlemagne, is 
 derived from the Blessed Isles of the ancients. 
 Moreover, the Castle of Ivalon, in the Celtic 
 tradition of the "Bound Table," is intimately 
 connected with them. The Gardens of Armida 
 too, a radiant episode in Tasso's beautiful poem, 
 belongs to the same stem. The idea of an 
 early abode, where life is free from all troubles, 
 and is solely spent in enjoyment, has excited the 
 imagination of all ages, and such blessed spots 
 have been adorned with all the sweet blossoms of 
 poetry. But even after such illustrious models, 
 the description, as given by the Hungarian poet, 
 presents one of the most lovely creations of 
 imagination. 
 
 We cannot close these short observations 
 
YANOSH, THE HERO. 261 
 
 on fairy-land without calling the attention of 
 the reader to two deeply interesting mediaeval 
 traditions, in which the difference of the Latin 
 and the German conception is fully expressed. 
 According to the German tradition, the gods of 
 antiquity are not the production of Hellenic 
 imagination they have a real existence. They 
 are demons, whose power has been broken only 
 by Christianity. Since that time they live in the 
 Venus-mountain in eternal enjoyment, ruled by 
 the Goddess of Beauty. Whoever prefers earthly 
 enjoyment to the salvation of his soul, may go to 
 this radiant realm, to which all paths open but 
 there is no returning ! 
 
 " Facilis descensus Averni," &c. 
 
 Among others, the Knight Tannhauser was 
 tempted to this adventure. He went to the 
 Venus-mountain, and there won the heart of the 
 Queen of Love. He lived in a continued dream 
 of felicity. 
 
 Three years passed away like three days. 
 But at length the fond smiles of Venus could 
 no longer silence the longings of his heart ; 
 his torpid existence pressed heavily upon him ; 
 he felt, that enjoyment itself grows painful, 
 if not varied by toil ; that only the exertion 
 
262 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 of the faculties enables men to enjoy. Dis- 
 content began to prey upon him ; he attempted 
 to escape, but there was no outlet from the 
 labyrinth of pleasure. The attraction of the 
 loadstone mountain prevented his flight. He 
 now went to the Queen, and freely owned to her 
 that he wished to return to the earth and its 
 troubles, to expiate his sin by waging war against 
 the infidels, and to do penance by mortification 
 of his flesh, for having preferred terrestrial bliss 
 to everlasting salvation. The Queen shed tears 
 when she heard his lamentations. She entreated 
 him to remain, representing that if he could not 
 endure the unvaried serenities of joy, he would 
 be still less able to bear incessant repentance ; 
 and that after he had tasted happiness with her 
 the consciousness of having lost it would over- 
 shadow every earthly joy with a tinge of regret. 
 Yet the Knight persisted in his desire. Expia- 
 tion was to be his enjoyment, the hope to save 
 his soul his only bliss. 
 
 The Queen loved him truly, and therefore 
 yielded to his fervent entreaties. The gates of 
 the mountain were opened : she paid him a glow- 
 ing farewell, which thrilled to his heart ; he fled 
 without once looking back, fearing lest his 
 strength might fail in the last moment. 
 
YANOSH, THE HERO. 263 
 
 It was Maundy Thursday, and the Pope 
 Urbanus, broken by years, supporting himself on 
 his stick, was going in full procession to the 
 lofty Lateran through the streets of Rome, when 
 a noble Knight, barefooted and clad in garment 
 of camel's hair, stopped his way, prostrated him- 
 self at his feet, and entreated his absolution. 
 He loudly confessed before the people, that he 
 was the greatest sinner on earth, and unworthy 
 of forgiveness, as he had spent three whole years 
 in the Venus-mountain. But the grace of Heaven, 
 he said, was boundless ; the Pope might, there- 
 fore, free him from his sin ! 
 
 The grey -haired Pope stepped backward horri- 
 fied, and exclaimed : " Unfortunate ! there is no 
 grace for thee : no repentance can atone for thy 
 sin. Thou hast sought heaven on earth: the 
 gates of paradise are now for ever closed to thee. 
 So long as this dry stick does not sprout with 
 leaves, and with blossoms, so long thy sins must 
 remain unforgiven." 
 
 The noble Knight calmly rose. He changed 
 his penitent garb for a magnificent dress, clad 
 his bare feet in shining boots, vaulted upon a 
 steed, and hastened back to the Venus-mountain 
 to the Queen of Love. If he had really lost 
 
264 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 heaven, he resolved to drain the cup of earthly 
 enjoyment down to the lees. 
 
 But when the Pope awoke on Good Friday, he 
 beheld with astonishment that his stick was 
 covered with leaves and blossoms, to show 
 him how foolish it is to deprive the sinner of 
 hope, which alone can give him the strength to 
 expiate his sins. 
 
 The French tale of Ogier le Danois takes a 
 different turn from the German tradition. The 
 hero returning from Jerusulem, encountered a 
 storm, and his vessel drifts over the sea till she 
 comes near the rock of loadstone, which in that 
 tale is called the Castle of Avalon. To this the 
 ship is attracted with irresistible force, and as 
 she draws nigh all the iron nails are rent from 
 her planks, and she falls asunder. Of the whole 
 crew no one is saved but Ogier, who is thrown 
 on shore. 
 
 He thanks Heaven, rises, and approaches the 
 palace ; but two fierce lions oppose his entrance. 
 He struggles with them, vanquishes both, and 
 steps over the threshold. Here he is greeted by 
 the Fairy Morgana, the Queen of the resplendent 
 abode. But Ogier has no eye for the magnifi- 
 cence around him; his mind is turned to his 
 
Y ANOSH, THE HERO. 265 
 
 own country, he sighs for his people, he longs 
 for his home. When the fairy sees this, she 
 takes the golden crown from her head, and 
 places it upon his brow. It has hardly been 
 pressed by the brilliant circle, when the re- 
 membrance of his nation and his country 
 escapes his memory ; they are estranged from 
 his heart, and he has forgotten them : no care 
 for them thrills through his veins, or over- 
 shadows his bright dreams of royal grandeur 
 and supreme power. 
 
 A century he thus spent on the throne of the 
 fairy, in careless forgetfulness and unvarying 
 enjoyment. But his native land is now invaded 
 by danger and war, the unsheathed swords of 
 his countrymen are stained with blood, thousands 
 of their brave sons are slain, arid the wailings of 
 the mothers, wives, sisters and brides, fill the 
 air with a distress so intense and so loud, that it 
 reaches even to Avalon, and makes the crown 
 tremble on the brow of Ogier. Then, at length, 
 he is struck by remorse, and flinging away the 
 golden crown, he hears the cries of his people 
 he feels all his love for his country revive, and 
 hastens from the palace of oblivious enjoyment, 
 to relieve his suffering brethren. He now hears 
 
 from all sides : " Ogier, Ogier alone can protect 
 12 
 
266 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 us !" He draws his sword lie fights for his 
 country, for his people he conquers their ene- 
 mies, and dies the death of a hero. 
 
 Alexander Petofy's fate is no less poetical 
 than his lays. His talent had just dawned over 
 the country, and he had obtained the hand of a 
 young person, who, by her fortune, offered him 
 an independent livelihood, when the year 1848 
 broke in with its commotions. 
 
 He first took an active part in politics. 
 When the war began he entered the army ; he 
 fought for his country, and sang its glory ; but 
 since the last unfortunate battles in Transylvania, 
 he has disappeared ; his fate is unknown. 
 
 "With poetical feeling he seems to have sur- 
 mised the days to come in the following lay, 
 written in 1843. 
 
 MY DEATH. 
 
 IF the Lord from heav'n His voice would utter : 
 " Hark, my son ! I proffer now to thee 
 
 Choose thy death, and death shall do thy bidding !" 
 None but this my prayer to God would be : 
 
YANOSH, THE HERO. 267 
 
 Autumn be it clear and lovely autumn- 
 Yellow leaf lit up by sunny ray : 
 
 Let there sing its parting lay a robin, 
 Left behind by the departed May. 
 
 When the destin'd hour arrives to Nature, 
 Death on Autumn steals with noiseless pace : 
 
 So may Death unseen, unfelt, approach me, 
 Shrouded, till his breath has touch'd my face, 
 
 Like the bird then warbling on the branches, 
 
 Let me chant a lay before I die ; 
 Notes which search, and fill the heart's recesses 
 
 Notes which soar and strike the lofty sky. 
 
 When my parting song shall thus be ended, 
 
 May my lips be sealed with a kiss 
 
 Kiss of love from thee, my lovely maiden 
 
 Fairest, dearest girl, my earthly bliss ! 
 
 But if Pow T 'r above such fate refuse me, 
 
 Let me, then, in Spring be calPd to rest ; 
 Spring of mighty war, when roses blossom, 
 
 Bloody roses, on the warrior's breast ! 
 
 Then with sounds soul-stirring let the trumpet 
 
 Nightingale of war be heard to sound : 
 Whilst with gory roses on my bosom, 
 
 Hero-like in death, I seek the ground ! 
 
 When my weight drops swooning from the saddle, 
 
 May my lips be sealed by a kiss 
 Kiss from thee, O Freedom ! heav'nly maiden ! 
 
 Glorious Freedom ! thou my heavenly bliss ! 
 
YANOSH,* THE HERO. 
 
 THE sun burns glowing from the top of heaven 
 Down on the shepherd : hot enough is he, 
 For in his heart too glows the fire of love. 
 His cattle graze upon the village common, 
 And on the village common whilst they graze, 
 He on his sheepskinf idly stretches him. 
 A sea of gaudy flowers unfolds around, 
 Yet not on these his glance is gladly bent, 
 But where, a stone's-throw off, a streamlet flows, 
 Thither his gaze is turned ; for 'mid the waves, 
 Restless with ripples, lo ! a maiden stands : 
 Golden her tresses, sunny bright her face ; 
 Up to her knee reaches the limpid flood, 
 Wherein she deftly dips her linen store. 
 Yon shepherd on the turf reclined at ease 
 Who could it be but Yantshe Kukoricza?' 
 And she who washes linen is Hush,* 
 The pearlshell of her sweetest Yantshe's heart. 
 
 " Dear pearlshell of my heart, Ilushka, sweet !" 
 He said, "thou art. my only bliss on earth! 
 
 * Janos, pronounce Yanosh, is John ; Jancsi, pro- 
 nounce Yantshe, Johnny. 
 
 f The sheep-fur, shuba, is the inseparable garment of 
 the shepherd, even in summer. 
 
 J Ilona is Ellen, diminutive Ilushka and Bush. 
 
YANOSH, THE HERO. 269 
 
 Ah ! of thine eyes one glance on me bestow ! 
 
 Step out to grant me but a single kiss, 
 
 But for a little moment come, my life, 
 
 While on thy ruddy lips my soul I press." 
 
 " Thou know'st, my soul,* that I would come with joy, 
 
 But I must hasten with my linen here ; 
 
 I must, or they will hardly deal with me. 
 
 I am the stepchild of my father's wife." 
 
 This said Hush, and sprightly on she washed; 
 
 But now the shepherd rises from his sheepskin, 
 
 Approaches her, and says, alluringly : 
 
 " Come here, my dove come here my turtle-dove, 
 But for a moment for a single kiss ! 
 And think, the bad stepmother is not here : 
 Let not thy lover die with longing love." 
 
 Such tender words prevail'd his clasping hands 
 Her neck encircle; lips to lips are pressed, 
 How often none but the All-knowing knows. 
 
 ii. 
 
 The hours fled quickly. As the sun sank down, 
 The waves were gilded by its parting rays, 
 While the stepmother fretful scolds at home. 
 " Where is Hush ? where can she be so long ? 
 'Tis time I go and see what she has done. 
 If she has idly dawdled, woe to her !" 
 Woe, woe to thee, Hush ! poor orphan girl ! 
 Behind thee, threatening, stands the furious witch : 
 Her large mouth opens, wide her lungs extend, 
 And quick up-wake thee from thy dream of love. 
 
 44 Thou worthless creature ! dost thou thus behave ? 
 Thou steal'st the day ! and art thou not ashamed ? 
 
 * The peasants in Hungary address one another, and 
 also those higher in rank, with "Lelkem," my soul. 
 
70 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 Base, shameless, idle wretch ! I would thou wert " 
 
 " Peace hold enough ! lest silence come perforce ; 
 Hurt not Hush, not with a single word : 
 Forbear ! or haply you shall rue my fist.' 
 For the protection of his trembling dove 
 Thus spoke the manly keeper of the flock ; 
 And, threatening with his angry glance, he said : 
 " Crone ! if you would not see your house in flames, 
 Touch not the orphan girl ; she works enough ; 
 Restless she ever toils, and all she gets 
 Is but dry bread ; and this is grudged to her. 
 Now go, Ilushka, but complain to me 
 If thou art wrong'd. And spare thy taunts, old hag ; 
 Thou too, we know, not always wast a saint." 
 His sheepskin now the shepherd lifted up, 
 And went with quicken'd steps to seek his sheep. 
 But thunderstruck was he, when o'er the plain 
 But few 'he saw, still grazing here and there. 
 
 m. 
 
 Twilight came on whilst Yantshe search'd about, 
 And of his flock barely the half could find. 
 Is thief, is prowling wolf to blame ? Alas ! 
 He knows not: but, whate'er the cause, they're gone ! 
 Search, care, and sighs are vain. What must he do ? 
 Soon purpos'd, home he drove his lessen'd flock. 
 
 " Thou shalt be scolded, Yantshe, scolded well !" 
 He muttered, half aloud, and sauntered home. 
 " My master uses to be cross and now ! 
 But oh ! may Heav'n's decree be always done !"* 
 So much, no more, thought he, and reach'd the gate ! 
 Where stood his master, waiting for his flock, 
 
 * Yantshe is obviously a Calvinist, like the great 
 majority of the inhabitants of the Hungarian Plain. 
 
YANOSH, THE HERO. 271 
 
 To count it, as his wont was, day by day. 
 
 " Fret not yourself to count ; too many fail, 
 
 Master, I own with grief and pain too late !" 
 
 So spake the shepherd ; but his master keen, 
 
 Catching the sounds, curl'd his moustachio up : 
 
 " No trifling ! jests I hate ; hear, Yantshe, mind, 
 
 Rouse not my anger worse it were for thee !" 
 
 But quick discerning truth in Yantshe's words, 
 
 Madden'd with rage, he scream'd with frenzied roar ; 
 
 " A pitchfork ! pitchfork ! let me run him through ! 
 
 Thou thief, thou rascal, scoundrel villainous ! 
 
 Oh ! may the raven peck out both thine eyes ! 
 
 Is this thy thank for all my benefits 1 
 
 Thou rope-deserving wretch, avaunt ! away !" 
 
 This said, a pole he seiz'd, and fiercely rush'd 
 
 To strike at Yantshe. Yantshe fled. Yet fear 
 
 Urg'd not his flight. His sturdy twenty years 
 
 With such might cope ; but conscious guilt 
 
 Palsied his heart ; how in such cause could he 
 
 Strike him, who, father-like, had brought him up ? 
 
 His panting master soon outstript, he stopped ; 
 
 He loitered, he returned, roamed left and right, 
 
 Forward and backward rushed, he knew not whither. 
 
 IV. 
 
 When in the mirror of the rivulet 
 
 Reflected gleam'd the rays of thousand stars, 
 The shepherd found himself at Hush's door, 
 Nor knew himself how he had thither come. 
 He stopt, and drawing forth his doleful shalm, 
 Of all his lays he tuned the saddest song. 
 The dew which fell on grass and bush, it was 
 Perchance the tear the stars in pity shed. 
 Hush already slept. In summer time, 
 Above the porch her resting-place was made. 
 
272 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 Now, at the well-known sounds she woke and rose, 
 
 But Yantshe's sight did not rejoice her heart ; 
 
 It frighten'd her. With trembling lips she spake : 
 
 " My soul my Yantshe ! why art thou so pale 
 
 Like to the waning moon in autumn's night V 
 
 " Alas, Hush ! how should I not be pale, 
 
 When for the last, perhaps, I see thy face !" 
 
 " Thy look, my soul, has frightened me enough : 
 
 Speak not, for heav'n's sake, speak not such a tale ! ' 
 
 " Spring of my heart ! I see thee not again ! 
 
 My doleful shalm tunes its last notes to thee ; 
 
 I give thee my last kiss, for aye we part, 
 
 For ever thou remainest far from me !" 
 
 He told his wretched tale : she wept : he cast 
 
 His arms around her neck, but turned his face, 
 
 To hide the tears which from his eyelid stream'd. 
 
 " Now, beautiful Hush ! now, sweetest rose ! 
 
 May Heav'n bless thee ! of me, sometimes think. 
 
 Seest thou a thistle blown about by storm, 
 
 Remember then thy erring lover's lot." 
 
 " Now, Yantshe, mine ! depart, if go thou must, 
 
 And Heaven's grace protect thy joyless path ! 
 
 Seest thou a broken flower on thy way, 
 
 Remember then thy withering sweetheart's fate !" 
 
 They parted, as the leaf parts from the twig, 
 
 And both their hearts with winter frost were chill'd. 
 
 Ilushka's. tears fast from her dim eyes flow'd, 
 
 And Yantshe wip'd them with his hanging sleeves. 
 
 At length he started on his aimless path : 
 
 The shepherds gaily sang, the cattle's bell 
 
 Was tinkling at his side, he heard it not. 
 
 The village lay already far behind, 
 
 Nor saw he more the flick'ring shepherd-fires. 
 
 At last he stopt, and backwards bent his glance : 
 
 Like a dark ghost, the steeple at him star'd, 
 
 Had any living thing beside him stood, 
 
YANOSH, THE HERO. 273 
 
 It might have heard a deadly-heaved sigh. 
 A flock of cranes soar'd high above his head ; 
 Their flight was far aloft ; they heard him not. 
 He wandered in the silence of the night ; 
 His weighty sheepskin rustled at his neck ; 
 He thought the sheepskin pressed so heavily : 
 But no ! the load that press'd him was his heart. 
 
 v. 
 
 The sun had ris'n, and chas'd away the moon, 
 
 Around him like an ocean spread the lea, 
 
 And from the east afar, down to the west, 
 
 The plain extended endless, borderless, 
 
 There was no flower there was no tree no bush ; 
 
 The dew-drops sparkled on the scanty grass, ^ 
 
 And new-born sunbeams brightly lighted up 
 
 A reed-encircled pond : in purple hue, 
 
 A long-neck'd heron stept along the edge, 
 
 And gravely sought his food amidst the reeds ; 
 
 While on the surface of the pond, the mews 
 
 Flew swiftly to and fro with hasty wings. 
 
 The shepherd wander'd on with gloomy thoughts. 
 The plain around was overshed with light. 
 But in his soul a murky darkness reign'd. 
 Now at the top of heav'n arrived the sun, 
 And Yantshe of the mid-day meal, bethought him, 
 For nought since yesternoon had pass'd his lips. 
 His wearied limbs could hardly bear him more. ; 
 So down he sat, and drew his knapsack forth. 
 And cut a slice of his remaining lard. 
 The azure sky glanced on him from above, 
 And from below the Fairy Dtli Bab.* 
 
 * "Deli Bab," means the Fata Morgana. On the 
 unbounded plains, the phenomenon of the Fata Morgana 
 12* 
 
274 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 His slender meal was sweet ; but thirsty grown, 
 He sought the pool, dipp'd in his bordered hat, 
 And quench'd his thirst. . Further he went, but soon 
 
 not seldom startles the inexperienced wanderer. It does 
 not here, as in the East, astonish by reproducing distant 
 towns, and beautiful scenery, but it habitually presents the 
 aspect of the wide sea, which covers all around. 
 
 Over the great plain, from the Danube down to Tran- 
 sylvania, w r e find everywhere the remains of a wall and 
 a canal, which, without doubt, are of Roman origin, 
 and marked the Roman frontier, as similar walls in 
 England arid Southern Germany. The Romans, and 
 the nations against- whom the wall was erected, were 
 forgotten long before the Hungarians took possession of 
 the counta. These, therefore, know nothing of the real 
 origin of the wall ; no Roman tradition survived in the 
 plains of Tisza. But the imagination of the people 
 created a charming legend, in which this wall is con- 
 nected with the Fata Morgana, so often to be met in those 
 parts. 
 
 Csb'rsz, as the shepherds tell, was the gallant son of the 
 King of the Transylvanian Alps, whose treasures of 
 gold and salt are greater than those of all the kings and 
 princesses in the world. CsOrsz heard of the celestial 
 beauty of Deli Bab, the daughter of the King of the 
 Southern Sea (Adriatic), and his heart was inflamed 
 with love for her. He therefore sent his heralds from 
 his Alps down to the borders of the Adriatic, with loads 
 of the most costly gifts of salt and gold, and sued for 
 the hand, of the lovely Deli Bdb. But the proud king of 
 the sea despised the kings of the earth, and said that 
 he never would grant the daughter of the sea to the son 
 of the Alps, until he came with a fleet down from his 
 mountains, to convey his bride by water to his palace, 
 as her feet were too delicate to be exposed to the rough 
 
YANOSH, THE HERO. 275 
 
 Felt dull, and on a molehill sank to sleep. 
 
 His dreams retrac'd the scenes from whence he came ; 
 
 He saw Hush, he held her in his arms, 
 
 stones of the earth. But the heralds, convinced of the 
 power of their king, threw the bridal ring and the 
 presents of gold and salt into the sea, which from this 
 time became rich in salt, and having thus sealed the 
 betrothing, returned to their prince. In despair about the 
 desire of the king of the sea, and ignorant how to 
 comply with his conditions, Csorsz called on the devil, 
 and entreated his aid. The devil without delay put two 
 buffaloes to his glowing plough, and in a single night 
 dug the canal from Transylvania to the Danube, and 
 from thence down to the sea. Csorsz speedily had a 
 fleet constructed, and joyfully steered down to the 
 Adriatic to take his bride. Her princely father gave up 
 his daughter with deep regret ; however, he was bound by 
 his word, as the new diplomacy was not yet invented, and 
 the pledges of monarchs were still, even in those parts, 
 considered sacred. 
 
 But the beautiful bride was sorry to leave her cool 
 palace of crystal, her innumerable toys of shells and 
 pearls, and even the monsters of the deep, who had 
 served her with unbounded devotion. She promised 
 not to forget their home, and often to visit her father 
 and sisters in summer, when the hot sunbeams might 
 prove too intense for her on the dry earth. Csorsz, 
 with festive songs and merry sounds, conveyed his be- 
 loved up the cunal. Deli" Bab was delighted with the 
 mountains, woods, fields, and meadows, which swiftly 
 passed her ; she was highly amused with the objects 
 wholly new to her sight. 
 
 But when by chance she looked backwards, she 
 noticed with terror that behind the fleet the waters 
 dried up in the canal, and that thus the return to her 
 
276 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 And lortg'd to press on her a tender kiss, 
 
 When a deep thunder-peal disturb'd his sleep. 
 
 He started up, and gaz'd around the plain. 
 
 On every side the heavy storm-cloud lour'd, 
 
 All fiercely gathering, raging suddenly, 
 
 Lake the mishap which blasted Yantsjie's fate. 
 
 The world array'd itself in gloom of night, 
 
 The thunder peal'p, the lightning flashed around. 
 
 At last the windows of the clouds were op'd, 
 
 Thick bubbles gurgl'd on the swelling pond. 
 
 Our Yantshe downward bent his broad-rimmed hat, 
 
 Turn'd out the leather of his dense-hair'd skin, 
 
 And leaning on his long and sturdy staff, 
 
 He look'd with calmness on the hurricane. 
 
 As unexpected as the tempest came, 
 
 So unexpected did it leave the skies, 
 
 Borne swiftly on the wings of speedy winds. 
 
 A brilliant rainbow glitter'd in the east. 
 
 The shepherd shook the water from his cloak, 
 
 Then wander'd restless on his way again. 
 
 father's realm became impossible. She never could 
 feel at home in the gold and salt vaults of the Tran- 
 sylvanian mountains ; the heavy masses of the Alps 
 depressed her soul; the wintry snow chilled her thoughts; 
 the burning beams of the summer sun melted her into 
 tears. She never laughed, and always dreamt of her 
 transparent abode in the sea. The love of the princely 
 son of the Alps remained sterile; Deli Bab was child- 
 less. She melted away with longing, and was trans- 
 formed into the Fata Morgana, a dreamy appearance of 
 the sea, which vanishes away as soon as you approach, 
 and which in Hungary yet bears the name of the fair 
 Deli Bab. The remains of the devil's canal are still 
 called Csorsz arka the canal of Csorsz. Memoirs of a 
 Hungarian Lady, vol. ii., p. 225. 
 
YANOSH, THE HERO. 277 
 
 The sun had sunk, but Yantshe, wandering still, 
 Travers'd a wide-spread forest, where the croak 
 Of a foul raven, feasting on a deer, 
 Assail'd his ears. For neither did he care, 
 But on he went : the yellow moonlight shed 
 Its rays to guide him through the bushy lane. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Midnight it may have been, when Yantshe saw 
 
 A gleaming ray*: a distant window shed 
 
 That light, far in the thickets of the wood, 
 
 On seeing it he muttered half aloud : 
 
 " Doubtless this gleam of light comes from some inn ; 
 
 Thank Heav'n, I find a shelter for the night." 
 
 But Yantshe erred, the house was not an inn. 
 
 It was the den of twelve blood-thirsty rogues ; 
 
 And all of them were now assembled there. 
 
 Night, robbers, axes, pistols, 'tis no joke ; 
 
 But ne'er had Yantshe's heart in courage failed, 
 
 He boldly enter'd, and thus greeted them : 
 
 " God grant a happy evening to you all !" 
 Roused by the voice, the robbers seized their arms, 
 And grasping Yantshe, thus the Captain spake : 
 " Who art thou, wretched man, that dar'st intrude ? 
 Still hast thou parents ? hast thou yet a wife ? 
 Prepare ! for never shall they see thee more !" 
 The heart of Yantshe did not quicker beat, 
 Nor grew he paler at the robber's threats ; 
 But thus replied he, with undaunted soul : 
 " Who has another, to endear his life, 
 Is right to shun this spot, and company ; 
 To me my life is worthless ; therefore, mark ! 
 Whoe'er you be^ I meet you fearlessly. 
 Yet, if you please, good master, spare my life, 
 And rest me here this night : else work your will 
 
X 
 
 278 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 Slay me ! I fight not for this wretched life." 
 
 So answer'd he, and calmly looked around : 
 
 The robbers wondered, and their Captain spake : 
 
 " I say one thing, of it two may come ;* 
 
 Thou art a gallant fellow, brave and bold, 
 
 To be a robber quite predestinate. 
 
 Thou spumest life, and death thou dost not fear ; 
 
 We kill thee not : I proffer thee my hand. 
 
 To rob, to murder is for us a sport ; 
 
 The sport is richly paid by costly prey : 
 
 These barrels here are filled with yellow gold ; 
 
 Decide, if thou'lt accept our fellowship ?" 
 
 Strange were the thoughts which shot through 
 
 Yantshe's mind, 
 
 And feigning joy, he promptly answered : " Well, 
 I am your comrade : here, accept my hand. 
 This is the happiest hour of all my life." 
 " It shall be happier still," pursued the Chief; 
 " A merry feast shall welcome thee ; our wine 
 Comes from the Bishop's cellar : let it flow !" 
 And flow it did, and soon o'erwhelm'd their sense. 
 Yantshe alone, shunning the cup and wine, 
 Though often press'd to drain it, took short draughts. 
 When sleep stole over them, which Yantshe long 
 Had waited for, while yet they senseless lay, 
 " Good night !" he said ; " none shall awake you 
 
 more, 
 
 If not the doomsday trumpet : you have here 
 Of hundreds quench'd the lamp of life ; and now 
 I'll send you down to an Eternal night. 
 Now to the treasures ! All to thee, Hush, 
 I bring them. Be no more thy mother's slave. 
 I marry thee, such is the will of Heav'n ! 
 
 * A Hungarian proverb, when we wish to renew a 
 discussion on a matter already dropped. 
 
YAXOSH, THE HERO. 279 
 
 Then in the village will we build a house, 
 
 And there we'll live in happiness and love, 
 
 As Eve and Adam lived in Paradise, 
 
 Almighty God, what thoughts assail my mind ! 
 
 How should I touch the cursed gold of rogues ? 
 
 Blood perchance sticks to it : not such the wealth 
 
 Which fosters happiness. 9 I'll touch it not ; 
 
 My conscience ever shall remain unstained. 
 
 Oh, sweet Hush ! bear yet thy woes, and trust 
 
 Thine orphan life to gracious Heav'n's decree." 
 
 So musing, with a candle's flickering light, 
 Forth from the room he stept, and fir'd the thatch 
 At every corner : quick the whole abode 
 Was turn'd to one vast flame, with hundred tongues 
 Mounting to Heav'n. The azure sky grew black, 
 And paler in the smoke the full moon's disc. 
 When all around shone this unwonted light, 
 The bat was scar'd, the owlet started up, 
 The fluttering of their wide-expanded wings 
 Disturb'd the noiseless leaves of slumbering trees. 
 The purple dawn of the arising morn 
 Shone upon smoking ruins, and the sun 
 Saw through the window-holes twelve lifeless men. 
 
 vn. 
 
 O'er hill and dale our Yantshe wandered on : 
 The robbers long had he forgotten, when 
 Arms broadly glittering caught his eyes. Hussars 
 Came on ; their swords shone bright as lightning's flash ; 
 Their horses danced and neighed, and proudly shook 
 Their dark-maned necks. When Yantshe saw the troop, 
 His heart beat quick ; he thought, " How gladly T 
 Would join their ranks, if they accepted me !" 
 The riders now came closely up ; their chief 
 Hallooed : " Ho ! countryman, take care, or sure 
 
280 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 On thine own head thou stepp'st,* crest-fallen lad ! 
 What is the matter ? speak!" Then Yantshe said: 
 " I am a wretched outlaw in the world ; 
 Accept me in your ranks, and boldly then 
 I face the sun !" The gallant chief replied : 
 " Consider well, for bloodshed, not for sport, 
 We now proceed : the miscreant Turk attacked 
 The King of France, and to his aid we hasje." 
 
 " All the more gladly would I go with you ; 
 For I must kill, or shall be kill'd by grief. 
 Till now, 'tis true, I dealt but with the ass ;f 
 But a Hungarian, born to ride the horse, 
 For us Hungarian folk the horse was made." 
 
 Thus Yantshe freely spoke ; his radiant eye 
 Still more express'd the longing of his heart. 
 He was enroll'd, and gladly bent his eye 
 . Upon his tassel'd jacket ; proudlier still 
 Up to his flashing sword. The fiery steed 
 Rear'd upright when he mounted ; but with heart 
 Undaunted Yantshe sat like to a rock, 
 Which even the mighty earthquake leaves unmoved. 
 IJis comrades all admir'd his strength and skill. 
 Whenever on their march their rest they took: 
 The maidens wept when they set off again. 
 But Yantshe heeded not their sighs ; 'tis true 
 That' though through many a land he pass'd, no maid 
 Could in his eyes compare with his Hush. 
 
 vin. 
 
 The troop went on, till they reach'd Tartary. 
 But here great danger threaten'd ; all around 
 
 * A Hungarian proverb, to describe a sick-hearted fellow, 
 t The ass is the inseparable companion of the shepherd : 
 it leads the flock. 
 
YANOSH, THE HERO. 281 
 
 Dog-headed Tartars thronged. Their king thus yelPd. 
 
 " How dare you come to us ? Know, then, we are 
 
 Men-eaters, ready to devour you all." ^ 
 
 Though gallant was our folk, they shudder'd, all 
 
 Surrounded, as they were, by countless hosts. 
 
 But as good fortune willed it, at this time 
 
 A negro-king was travelling in that land. 
 
 He warmly lauded the hussars ; for he, 
 
 In former days, had travers'd Hungary 
 
 Had there been cheer'd, treated with fine Tokay, 
 
 Which well his memory kept. He now address'd 
 
 His old ally, the Tartar-king: " My friend, 
 
 Be lenient to the troop ; they harm thee not. 
 
 I know the Magyars well; good folk are they 
 
 A race of gentry born ; grant them, for me, 
 
 Peace and free passage." " Well, for thee (replied 
 
 The dog-head king, appeased), I grant their life." 
 
 He sign'd and seal'd a passport; through his realm, 
 
 The bold hussars then safely galloped off. 
 
 But glad were they to get away : why not ? 
 
 The land is poor, no food but figs and bears! 
 
 rx. 
 
 That Tartarland, with all its hills and vales, 
 They soon forgot in Italy, amidst 
 The fragrant woods of rosemary ; but much 
 They suffer'd here from cold. Eternal frost 
 Reigns in this land : on snow they marched. Yet e'en 
 This hardship, though severe, their strength endured. 
 But when it grew too cold, hoisting their steeds 
 Upon their backs, they carried them along. 
 
 They soon reach'd India on their march. To France 
 They thus approach'd ; but tedious was the way. 
 
282 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 The hills rose always higher, till at last 
 
 Close to the country's edge they touch'd the sky : 
 
 Hence glowing heat oppress'd the poor hussars, 
 
 And stript them quick of collars and of furs. 
 
 Why not ? for near them, scarce a mile above, 
 
 The sun moved smoothly on his morning walk. 
 
 For food they tasted nothing but the air, 
 
 Which here for thickness can be champ'd ; for thirst, 
 
 They had to squeeze the water from the clouds. 
 
 At last they reach'd the mountain's top ; and there, 
 
 Such was the heat, they march'd but during night. 
 
 Their pace was slow, for hindrance great they found, 
 
 Their horses ever stumbling o'er the stars. 
 
 And when they wander'd on the Milky Way 
 
 Our Yantshe thought : " I've always heard it said, 
 
 As often as a star falls down from heav'n, 
 
 A human life is closed upon the earth. 
 
 How fortunate for thee, O heartless witch, 
 
 That 'tis unknown to me which star is thine ! 
 
 No longer shouldst thou vex my sweetest dove, 
 
 For down to earth now would I hurl thy star." 
 
 XI. 
 
 France is a glorious land ; as Canaan was 
 A Paradise on earth ! it's beauty rous'd 
 The greedy Turks to envy, who had now 
 With steed and sword attack'd and ravaged it. 
 They forc'd the churches, robb'd the sacred cups, 
 And emptied all the cellars of the priests ; 
 Kindled the blaze of cities, spar'd no life. 
 They from his palace drove the helpless King 
 And carried off by force his only child. 
 Such was the state of France, when the hussars 
 At last arriving found its humbled lord. 
 And piteously bewail'd his cruel fate, 
 
YANOSH, THE HERO. 283 
 
 When thus he spake : " Heroes, is it not hard 
 
 That I, the King of France, \vhose riches vied 
 
 With those of great Darius, am reduced 
 
 To strive with need 1 ?" The chief of the hussars 
 
 Replied : " Calm, Majesty, thy cares ; our arms 
 
 Shall chastise all who dar'd maltreat a King. 
 
 This night we rest, for we are tir'd ; the way 
 
 Was long and trying; but to-morrow soon 
 
 We shall re-occupy thy empire lost." 
 
 " But my poor daughter, O my dearest child !" 
 
 Exclaimed the King. " Shall I not see her more ? 
 
 The Turkish Pasha tore her from my side : 
 
 Whoever brings her back may claim her hand." 
 
 The heroes at these words exalted felt, 
 
 Hope filled their hearts ; they one arfd all resolv'd 
 
 To win her, or to die. Our Yantshe was 
 
 Perhaps the only one who listen'd not ; 
 
 His thoughts were elsewhere, they recall'd Bush. 
 
 XII 
 
 The morning came, the sun, as daily, rose ; 
 But what he saw and heard when out he peep'd, 
 Such things he never saw nor heard before. 
 When the clear trumpet call'd the men to arms, 
 Its summons found the soldiers at their post. 
 Sharp had they ground the edges of their swords. 
 The steeds were saddled, and the King appear'd 
 To head the gallant crew : then thoughtful spake 
 The chief of the hussars : " Nay, gallant King, 
 Thy life is precious, and to wield the sword 
 Weak is thy arm ; thy years have not impair'd 
 Thy courage, yet have robb'd thee of thy strength." 
 
 They gallop'd off to seek the Turks, and sent 
 A herald duly to announce the war. 
 The herald goes returns ; the trumpet sounds : 
 
284 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 Then clashing swords and warriors' shouts announce 
 
 The coming storm of battle : see ! the hussars 
 
 Press forward on their steeds, with thund'ring cheers. 
 
 Shaken by iron hoofs, or struck with awe 
 
 At sounds ill-boding, quakes the -heart of earth. 
 
 The seven-horse-tail'd leader of the foe,* 
 
 Red-nosed a barrel riding on the steed 
 
 Arrayed his ranks, and hero-like withstood, 
 
 Sharp though it was, the first hussar attack. 
 
 They bore no second ; broken were their ranks, 
 
 And drown'd in Turkish blood the field turn'd red. 
 
 The stout Pasha as yet remain'd unhit ; 
 
 But Yantshe kept on him a watchful eye : 
 
 " Brother," he hallooed, when he reach'd him, " hark ! 
 
 Thou art too stout to be one single man : 
 
 Stand still, that two I may cut out of thee." 
 
 He kept his promise ; with a mighty stroke 
 
 He cut in two the seven-horse-tail'd Turk 
 
 Who fell on both sides from his frighten'd horse. 
 
 Of the ill-fated chief such was the death ! 
 
 The Turkish army saw its leader dead, 
 
 And took to flight, and still perhaps would flee 
 
 Had the hussars not headlong followed them, 
 
 And put them on the edges of their swords. 
 
 The Turks fell like the poppy on the fields, 
 
 But one of them escaped, and had been safe 
 
 If Yantshe had not hastened after him. 
 
 It was the Pasha's son ; a female shape 
 
 Lay in his arms, the daughter of the King. 
 
 Our Yantshe galloped till he reached the Turk, 
 
 And cried : " Stop, coward ! or thy wicked soul 
 
 I'll send to hell !" The Pasha's son fled on, 
 
 Until his steed fell down and breathed its last, 
 
 * The Vizir's rank is marked by seven horse-tails in the 
 East. 
 
YANOSH, THE HERO. 285 
 
 " Pardon, kind knight !" he cried ; " behold ray youth, 
 And pity me ! my soft heart clings to life. 
 Spare but my life, and take my treasures all." 
 
 " Keep all thy treasures, coward keep them all ! 
 Thou art too vile to perish by my hand. 
 Fly to thy country, and make it known to all 
 How the Hungarians ever treat their foes." 
 
 Thus Yantshe spake, sprang from his horse, and 
 
 glanced 
 
 Upon the Princess. She unclosed her eyes, 
 And said, with languid accents : " Valiant knight, 
 Deliverer mine, I ask not-who thou art, 
 Thine is my gratitude : say, how can I 
 Make good my words ? My hand itself is thine, 
 If thou desir'st this prize." In Yantshe's veins 
 Was blood, not milk ; but, thinking of Hush, 
 He quenched the struggle rising in his breast, 
 And gently thus addressed the Princess fair : 
 
 " Let us, my rose, return first to thy sire, 
 To speak about it there." He took the reins, 
 And led along the steed which bore the dame. 
 
 xm 
 
 They reach'd the battle-field ; the sinking sun 
 Beheld with reddened eyes a doleful sight, 
 The traces of grim death ; and o'er the slain 
 *The ravens hovering. Such distressing view 
 Filled him with grief; he hastened to the sea. 
 A hundred paces thence there was a pond, 
 Once pure, now red with Turkish blood. The* host 
 Had rested here before they, with the King, 
 Went to the palace, standing near the field. 
 The army scarce had reached the castle-gate 
 When came the Princess, Yantshe at her side, 
 A sparkling rainbow with a gloomy cloud. 
 
286 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGAKY. 
 
 " My joy is now complete !" exclaimed the King : 
 " Call up the Cook ! let him prepare the best 
 He ever served for my victorious guests !" 
 
 " Your Majesty needs not call the cook," 
 A weak voice cried, " for here behold I am ! 
 The feast in greatest speed I have serv'd up 
 It is quite ready in the banquet hall." 
 Melodious seemed these words to the hussars, 
 Who soon around the table were encamped, 
 And, sharply as they attacked the Turks, 
 They now attacked the turkeys and the beef. 
 The tumblers, too, were quickly pass'd around. 
 The King arose, and spake with lifted cup : 
 
 " Great tidings I announce to you, my sons !" 
 The brave hussars attended with both ears, 
 That of the royal words they might lose none. 
 The king now emptied first the cup, then coughed, 
 Then broke the silence with most solemn tone 
 
 " Victorious hero ! let me hear thy name, 
 Who hast restored thy happiness, my child !" 
 " My honest name is Yantshe Kukuricza, 
 Though peasant-like it sounds, it brings no shame." 
 The King continued : " Thee I rebaptize ; 
 Thy name henceforth shall be The Hero John ! 
 Now listen, John the Hero, to my words : 
 As thou hast brought my daughter back to me, 
 Take her to wife she gla,dly will be thine 
 And occupy with her my glorious throne. 
 I long have worn the crown : I have grown old 
 With it, in years and mind : it presses now 
 Too heavy on my head. I abdicate, 
 And place the crown on thy victorious brow. 
 For me, I in the palace claim one room, 
 To live in careless peace my numbered days." 
 
 The soldiers wondered greatly at these words, 
 But Hero John replied, with humble mien : 
 
YANOSH, THE HERO. 287 
 
 " I thank thee, gracious King, for thy good-will : 
 Such royal bounty hardly I deserve. 
 And I, too, must confess I can't accept 
 This kingly favour ; why is long to tell, 
 My story might be trying to thy patience." 
 
 " Speak, dearest son, we gladly grant our ear, 
 Replied the King ; and John the Hero spake : 
 
 XIV. 
 
 " Where shall I now begin ? First I must tell 
 The name of Kukuricza how I got. 
 They found me on the fields, amongst the maize, 
 And therefore used to call me Kukuricza.* 
 A peasant wife, the best and kindest soul 
 (The tale to me she has related oft), 
 Went to her field to see her growing maize, 
 And found me lying there, a helpless babe. 
 I screamed with all my lungs, she pitied me, 
 And took me up, and nurs'd me in her arms, 
 And walking home, she thought : ' I have no child, 
 I will rear up this little homeless wretch.' 
 Her husband was of cross and angry mood, 
 He never liked my looks, but constantly - 
 Rebuk'd me ; and when first she brought me home 
 His voice stream'd forth in accents of reproach. 
 Entreatingly she spoke to him these words : 
 
 " ' Appease, O father,f your displeasure : say, 
 How could I leave the baby in the field ? 
 And have it starved, would Heav'n not punish us ? 
 And then, he will prove useful in the house. 
 
 * Kukuricza, means in Hungarian, maize. 
 
 f The Hungarian peasant-wife calls her husband Apus, 
 father ; Uram, my master ; and Kent, you ; while he calls 
 her Anyus, mother ; and Te, thou. 
 
ZOO POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 You have to keep your fields, your cattle, sheep. 
 
 When once the baby grows to be a man, 
 
 You need no servant.' He at last gave way. 
 
 But always scolded me ; and if my work 
 
 Chanc'd not to please the man, he thrash'd me well. 
 
 Thus I grew up : my lot was toil, and blows, 
 
 And scanty joy ; my whole delight a gjrl, 
 
 Who in the village lived, next door to us. 
 
 Her mother died ; her father thought it best 
 
 To wed another wife ; he also died. 
 
 The child remain'd now with her father's wife. 
 
 This little maiden was my only joy, 
 
 The only rose along my thorny path, 
 
 And how I did admire and love the girl ! 
 
 They call'd us the two orphans of the village. 
 
 When yet a little boy, not for sweet cakes 
 
 Would I her sight have lost; then, how I clapp'd 
 
 My hands when Sunday came, and I could play 
 
 With her among the children on the green ! 
 
 And when I grew a lad, and when my heart 
 
 Began to pulse and stir, when on her lips 
 
 I press'd a burning kiss, I had not car'd 
 
 If heaven itself had fallen to bury us ! 
 
 Her wicked mother often us'd her ill, 
 
 And would have treated her still worse, had not 
 
 My threats restrain'd her malice and her wrath. 
 
 But soon my fate grew darker, more and more : 
 
 We buried the good woman in the earth 
 
 Who found and rear'd me, and who ever had 
 
 Mother-like treated me, the orphan child. 
 
 My heart is hard : I seldom used to weep, 
 
 But on my foster-mother's grave my tears 
 
 Flowed like a stream. Ilushka wept with me. 
 
 How should she not ] My foster-mother, too, 
 
 Had ever soothed the helpless orphan girl. 
 
 She often said to us : ' Wait but awhile, 
 
YANOSH, THE HERO. 289 
 
 And then in marriage I unite you soon ; 
 
 And what a pair, my darlings, will you be ! 
 
 I will unite you sure wait but awhile.' 
 
 We waited on with sorrow, and she would 
 
 I trust have kept her promise, had she not 
 
 Descended early to her silent grave. 
 
 She died ; our cherish'd hopes declin'd, we lovM 
 
 Each other as before, but hopelessly. 
 
 Yet even this tearful bliss was not to last, 
 
 It happen'd that I lost half of my flock, 
 
 On which my master drove me from his house. 
 
 I said farewell to my belov'd Hush, 
 
 And wander'd through the world, with bitter pangs, 
 
 Till I became a soldier. When I parted, 
 
 I did not say to my beloved maid 
 
 She should not give to another man her heart, 
 
 Nor did she claim of me eternal love ; 
 
 Yet (well we know) we both hold fast our faith. 
 
 " Therefore, sweet Princess, think no more of me : 
 For if the dear Hush cannot be mine, 
 I will possess no other in the world, 
 Should death himself forget me here below." 
 
 xv. 
 
 The hero Yanosh left no heart unmoved, 
 The Princess wept with pity and with grief, 
 The King thus spake : " My son, thy choice is free, 
 But what I offer now in gratitude, 
 Accept it for my sake." He then unlock'd 
 The treasury, bade a bag be fill'd with gold 
 Yanosh had never before beheld such wealth. 
 
 " Now, Hero John, deliverer of my child," 
 Thus said his Majesty, " All this is thine. 
 Take home the gold, enjoy it with Hush 
 I fain would say, remain a time with us, 
 13 
 
290 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 But well I know thou long'st to see thy dove ; 
 
 Go, then ! thy comrades will remain, and spend 
 
 At court a pleasant life." As said, 'twas done : 
 
 Our faithful hero long'd for his Hush. 
 
 He bowed, said to the Princess : " Fare thee well 1" 
 
 And to the port he went, where lay a ship. 
 
 His Majesty accompanied him there. 
 
 The soldiers folio w'd with loud cheers, and look'd 
 
 Long after him, until the distance threw 
 
 A veil of mist around the sailing ship. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 The vessel saiPd with favourable wind, 
 
 Still quicker flew the thoughts of John : free space 
 
 They had, and sweet Hush they thus address'd : 
 
 "Know'st thou that thy belov'd steers homeward 
 
 now, 
 
 Laden with gold ? that after many toils 
 United we may live a happy pair, 
 Within our own precinct, with means our own ? 
 My master used me ill, but sure his wrongs 
 I gladly pardon, as in truth, he caus'd 
 My luck." Thus reason'd in his heart our John, 
 Whilst on the vessel steer'd, with swelling sails. 
 Still she was distant yet from Hungary, 
 When Hero John one eve stood on the deck, 
 And loud the mate remark'd : " Red is the sky ; 
 A heavy tempest threatens us." But John 
 Attended not these words ; he saw a host 
 Of red-legg'd storks above him in the clouds ; 
 The autumn was at hand. Perhaps those birds 
 Came from his home. His glance pursued their flight 
 With tender lodging : from afar, perhaps, 
 They brought some gentle message from Hush, 
 And from the home he had not seen so long. 
 
YANOSH, THE HERO. 291 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Next day the storm arose, and fiercely blew, 
 And roaring roll'd the agitated sea, 
 Flogg'd wildly by the howling hurricane. 
 The crew were terrified, for now there seem'd 
 No hope of rescue : all their struggles fail'd. 
 The clouds grew dark the sun had disappeared 
 A violent tempest raged the thunder roll'd 
 The lightning struck the ship, and shatter'd her 
 Next instant nought but planks swam all about, 
 And swelling billows wash'd away the crew. 
 
 But what became now of the Hero John 1 
 Did heartless billows bear him, too, away ? 
 Doubtless next door to death they carried him, 
 But he was safe. The waters toss'd him up 
 With such tremendous force, that of a cloud 
 He caught the fringe, and grasp'd it with his hands, 
 And clung to it : thus he was dragg'd along 
 Until the cloud attain'd a cliff, where John 
 Sank down upon his knees in grateful prayer. 
 He look'd around the rock, but only saw 
 A griffin's nest. The bird just then her young 
 Was feeding here, when, creeping to the nest, 
 The Hero John with one leap vaulted on 
 The griffin's back, and boldly spurred her flanks. 
 She, frighten'd, flew away o'er hill and dale, 
 Down had she thrown him, but he sat too firm. 
 On on she flew, until the morning's rays 
 Shone downright on a village-steeple's top. 
 It was well known to John : he greets his home : 
 Warm tears of joy are sparkling in his eyes. 
 The bird, all breathless, perches on a hill, 
 And John springs down, and hastens on, and thinks : - 
 
 " I bring no gold, I bring no riches back, 
 But 1 return unchang'd in heart and mind 
 
292 POPULAB TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 Thou claim'st not more. I know, my sweet Hush, 
 Thou long enough hast yearn'd for my return." 
 Whilst thus he thought, he reach'd the village end, 
 And met some rattling carts, with empty casks, 
 As to the village home the peasants went. 
 They little heeded him ; they knew him not 
 Who to the village bent his steps. He sought 
 The humble house where liv'd his fair Hush. 
 His hand lay trembling on the latch his breath 
 Was almost stopt he gently op'd the door. 
 But not Hush no, strangers met his eye ! 
 
 " Perhaps," he thought, " I may have miss'd my 
 
 way," 
 
 And touch'd the latch again. " Whom do you want 1" 
 A pretty woman ask'd. John said : " Hush." 
 " 'Tis Yantshe ! Goodness me ! I eat your heart !* 
 How sunburnt ! Sure I reeognis'd you not !" 
 The pretty woman said, with great surprise. 
 " Come in, and may Heav'n bless you thousand-fold ! 
 In-doors let us talk more of by-gone times, 
 And on she led him to the room, and placed 
 Him in the arm-chair, saying : Look at me, 
 Do you remember me 1 you know me not 1 
 The little girl, who from the neighbour-house 
 So often used to come to your Hush. 
 
 " But tell me quick, where is my dearest maid 1" 
 Yantshe inquired. The woman's eyes were dimm'd, 
 " Where is Ilushka ? where T she said, and wept ; 
 " Poor Yantshe, yes, Hush lies in the earth." 
 Had not the arm-chair then supported John 
 Down had he sunk ; he knew not what to do, 
 He grasp'd his breast, as if to tear from it 
 The pungent grief; he sat there dumb and cold 
 
 * "I eat your heart," is a Hungarian expression of 
 kindness with the peasants. 
 
YANOSH, THE HERO. 293 
 
 Awhile ; then as if waking up from sleep 
 
 He said : " Speak truth she married did she not ? 
 
 Far better married than beneath the earth ! 
 
 Let me but see her once, then sweet to me 
 
 Shall prove this sadden'd joy." The woman's face 
 
 Show'd visibly to John, she spoke the truth. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Upon the table's edge poor John had sunk ; 
 His tears began to flow ; his accents fail'd 
 With grief, in broken voice he feebly said, 
 Why have I not been slain then by the Turks ? 
 Or why not perish'd in the raving storm ? 
 Why was I born ? why must I live ? such grief 
 To be my lot such dreadful day to see !" 
 But grief at last grew tir'd to torture him ; 
 It was as if worn out, and fell to sleep. 
 
 " How died my love ?" he asked. The woman said : 
 " Poor creature ! Many were her pains, but most 
 Her mother's treatment broke the darling's strength. 
 The witch is punished, and she begs her bread. 
 Dear girl ! She always spoke of you, poor friend ! 
 With her last breath she pray'd : ' May Heav'n bless thee, 
 My Yantshe ! Thine I am beyond the grave ; 
 Thine in the better world, if yet thou wilt.' 
 And then she died : she rests not far from hence. 
 The villagers accompanied her bier, 
 And all shed tears who bore her to the grave." 
 
 The good young woman led the hero there 
 At his request, and left him to himself. 
 He sank exhausted down upon the grave. 
 His hapless thoughts recalPd the good old time, 
 When in full health her face and heart yet glowed ! 
 And now, they both lay cold within the grave. 
 The radiant sun went down : pale rose the moon ; 
 
294: POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 Its rays shone mournful through the autumn mist. 
 
 John stagger'd from the grave of his belov'd, 
 
 But soon retura'd anew ; a little bush 
 
 Of roses grew upon the tomb ; he pluck'd 
 
 One bud, and thought : " Her dust has given thee birth, 
 
 Poor rosy bud ; thou shalt remain with me. 
 
 I'll wander to the limits of the world, 
 
 Till welcome death arrive to close my life." 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Yantshe had two companions on his way : 
 
 One was the grief that gnawed his heart ; his sword 
 
 The other, rusting yet from Turkish blood. 
 
 On pathless ways he stray'd r the moon had chang'd, 
 
 And disappear'd, and often chang'd again : 
 
 The earth adorn'd itself with flow'rs of spring, 
 
 When John address'd the grief that press'd his heart : 
 
 " Insatiable grief ! when wilt thou be 
 
 Weary of torturing this hopeless heart ? 
 
 Canst thou not kill me ? Get thee hence begone, 
 
 And seek another lurking-place. I see 
 
 Thou bring'st not death to me ; in other parts 
 
 I see it now. Adversity, to you 
 
 I turn, perchance you grant me welcome death." 
 
 Thus thought our John, and drove away the grief, 
 That to his heart but seldom now retura'd, 
 And fled again, the heart was tightly closed, 
 And grief left but a tear on Yantshe's eye. 
 
 Weeks, months had pass'd, the tear had also dried ; 
 John carried on his wearied, wandering life, 
 And reached a wood, where, deep immers'd in mud, 
 Up to the axletree, he found a cart. 
 The carter whipp'd his horse, but all in vain. 
 " Good morning, friend," said John. " A pretty morn, 
 Indeed," the carter grumbled. " Why so cross T 
 
YANOSH, THE HERO. 295 
 
 Our John pursued. " Why ! see the swampy road 
 
 Glues 'to the earth my cart, and stops the horse." 
 
 " I will assist thee, friend; but let me know 
 
 Whither leads yonder path ?" And to the right 
 
 He pointed, where a road led through the woods. 
 
 " Beware that path ! Who ventures there meets death ; 
 
 The giant's realm extends around, beware !" 
 
 John took the pole, and strongly seiz'd the cart^ 
 
 And drew it from the mud ; and ere the man 
 
 Could tell his thanks, the hero disappeared. 
 
 He hasten'd to the woods, and soon a stream 
 
 He found the border of the Giant-land. 
 
 The keeper of the giants stood on watch. 
 
 " Is it a man who yonder creeps 1" he said. 
 " I'll crush him like a worm ;" but Hero John 
 Urisheath'd his sword, and struck the giant's foot, 
 Who stumbling fell across the stream, and forra'd 
 With his enormous frame a lofty bridge. 
 Before he could rise up again, our John 
 Across him ran, and cut his head right off. 
 And thus he did arrive in Giant-land ; 
 But here, what greeted him ? mishap or luck ? 
 You soon will learn, if you attend my words ! 
 
 xx. 
 
 The hero stopp'd, and glanced astonish'd round : 
 The trees were high, m vain he sought their tops ; 
 The leaves were huge enough to be abodes. 
 Upon a branch a magpie sat ; it seemed 
 A wide-expanded cloud ; proceeding fast 
 John reach'd a castle dark and high. It was 
 The palace of the King, with gates so large, 
 So large so large I cannot say how large : 
 The giants surely build no mean abode. 
 John enter'd boldly, reach'd the hall, and found 
 
298 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 The King at dinner with his fifty sons. 
 
 They relish'd rocks, the meal seem'd strange to John, 
 
 When, grinning, said the King : " Come, feast with us, 
 
 If not, we swallow thee," and with these words, 
 
 He handed dow r n a rock, the Princes all 
 
 Roar'd loud with laughter. Hero John took up 
 
 The rock, and flung it at the royal head, 
 
 And crush'd the giant's brow, exclaiming loud : 
 
 " Digest thyself the meal thou send'st to me." 
 
 The King fell dead ; the eldest Prince afraid, 
 Addressed the hero : " Spare, O Lord ! our lives ; 
 We humbly, as thy vassals, bow to thee." -. 
 " Be thou our King," exclaimed the giants all. 
 And John replied : " I listen to your prayers, 
 But here with you I cannot rest : a King 
 Must in my stead rule over the Giantrland. 
 Be it whom you elect, I only claim 
 That, when I summon, you appear." The Prince 
 Drew forth a whistle, saying : " Gracious Lord, 
 Take this, and when thou call'st, thy vassals come." 
 John took the gift, and proud of his success, 
 He walk'd away amidst a thousand cheers. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 I cannot say, how long he wandcr'd on, 
 
 But sure it is, that, as he went along, 
 
 It always darker grew, so dark at last, 
 
 That all was plung'd in darkness. " Night has come, 
 
 Or blinded is mine eye," he thought ; but no, 
 
 It was not night ; no blindness dimmed his eye; 
 
 It was the land of darkness where he was. 
 
 No sun shone here no star; he groping sought 
 
 His path, and heard a fluttering o'er his head 
 
 The witches flying through the air on brooms 
 
 They flew to reach a spacious cavern, where 
 
f 
 
 THE HEKO. 297 
 
 They every night all met in parliament. 
 
 John's eye was caught by shining rays ; he now 
 
 Peep'd through the chinks, from whence shone forth the 
 
 light, 
 
 And saw below a kettle's flaming fire, 
 And witches sitting all around, who brew'd 
 An opiate for the people ; at this sight 
 He grop'd to find his whistle, but his hand 
 Felt on the wall the broom-sticks of the hags. 
 He seiz'd and hid them quick, then drew his whistle, 
 And sounded it the giants came John bade 
 Them slay the hags ; the witches terrified 
 Left their debate, and- leaped about to find 
 Their wonted steeds, in vain. No chance was left, 
 No flight could save them from the giants' grasp. 
 And when a witch was killed, it grew less dark, 
 Till by degrees the sky clear'd up, and light 
 Began to spread o'er all the smiling land. 
 But still it was not sunny yet ; one witch 
 Remain'd conceal'd behind a tree, but she 
 Was there too seen ; one giant caught her tight. 
 " Step-mother of Hush !" John cried, " worse hag ! 
 My hand shall punish thee ! Stop, giant stop 
 I must myself revenge my dove !" The witch 
 Began to, flee ; the giant caught her soon, 
 And flung her through the air. They found her dead 
 In Yantshe's native village on the turf, 
 And no one mourned the wicked woman's fate, 
 John burnt the broom-sticks all in brilliant light 
 Shone now the land of darkness. Graciously 
 He then dismiss'd the giants ; off they march'd 
 All to the left, the hero to the right. 
 
 13* 
 
298 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 xxn. 
 
 John wander'd on and on ; his heart was heaPd, 
 And when he look'd upon the rose, it was 
 Not woe he felt ; with pensive joy his eye 
 Repos'd upon the bud, which once he pluck'd ' 
 On his belov'd Ilushka's lonely grave. 
 
 The sun had sunk ; the rosy twilight too 
 Had wan'd : when silver rays the moonlight shed, 
 The hero wander'd yet until the moon 
 Sank too, and darkness came. He stopt at last, 
 And on a hillock leant his weary head. 
 He fell asleep, and knew not that he lay 
 Upon a churchyard, where the ancient tombs 
 Were long decayed. And when the chilly hour 
 Of midnight came, all tomb-hills burst, and ghosts 
 Arose in snowy garments, and began 
 To sing and dance upon the trembling soil, 
 But Hero John awoke not from his dreams ; 
 He heard no dance, no tunes ; the ghosts around 
 Approach'd, and grasp'd his arm, to tear him up. 
 When loud the cock began to crow, the ghost 
 Vanish'd like shadow ; John awoke ; his limbs 
 Were touch'd by chilly frost ; a piercing wind 
 Blew o'er the dale, and Hero John went on. 
 
 xxm. 
 
 He reach'd a mountain's top, when all around 
 The twilight cast its glance. The morning star 
 Sank down, its parting rays waned soon away, 
 Fast as a sigh. When rose the radiant sun, 
 He smiling look'd upon the endless sea, 
 The even waves that seem'd to lie asleep 
 In open space immeasurably spread. 
 The surface was a mirror, scarcely broke 
 By splashing fishes here and there, and when 
 
YANOSH, THE HERO. 299 
 
 The rays fell on their scales, they glistened bright 
 
 As shining diamonds. On the shore there stood, 
 
 A fisher's hut ; the fisherman was old ; 
 
 His beard flow'd to his knees ; he spread his net 
 
 When John approach'd and ask'd ; "Old brother, wilt 
 
 Thou kindly carry me across the sea ? 
 
 I readily would offer thee the fare, 
 
 But have no com ; serve me for nought ; I'll pay 
 
 Thee with my warmest thanks." " If coin thou hadst," 
 
 Replied, with smiling mien, the fisherman, 
 
 " To me 'twere useless. See ; the ocean's depth 
 
 Supplies my scanty wants day after day. 
 
 But say, why seek'st thou here a passage ? know 
 
 The endless ocean spreads its waves around, 
 
 No boat, no ship can carry thee across." 
 
 " The endless ocean /" cried our John surprised ; 
 
 " I traverse it where'er it leads." He drew 
 
 His whistle sounded it a giant came. 
 
 " Canst carry me across this sea ?" " Why not ? 
 
 Sit on my back, and tightly catch my hair." 
 
 They went ; the giant paced with hurried steps, 
 
 Each step seven miles, but on they walked for weeks 
 
 Ere in the distant mist they saw a land. 
 
 " Is this the shore T exelaim'd the Hero John. 
 
 " 'Tis but an isle," the giant quick replied. 
 
 " The Fairy-land, the end of the wide world. 
 
 Beyond this isle the ocean disappears 
 
 In spaceless void." " Then take me quickly hence, 
 
 My faithful bondsman, for the Fairy-land 
 
 Behold I must." " King, I obey, but know 
 
 Thy life is threatened there. Rapacious beasts 
 
 Keep all the gates." " Care not for these, but take 
 
 Me to the isle ; whether I enter there 
 
 Or die, is my concern alone." On went 
 
 The giant, left the hero safe on shore, 
 
 Whilst he himself retraced his speedy steps. 
 
800 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 The entrance of the fairy isle was kept 
 
 By three- black bears ; with murderous claws they met 
 
 The Hero Yantshe, but on his attack, 
 
 They fell by his victorious hand. " To-day 
 
 My task is done," the hero gladly thought, 
 
 And stretch'd him at full length close to the gate ; 
 
 And on the following day he sought and found 
 
 The second entrance ; there three lions stood. 
 
 Then a stout fight began, but John subdued 
 
 The lions, too. He proudly onwards bent 
 
 His steps, and at the inmost gate he saw 
 
 A dreadful dragon coil'd into a skain ; 
 
 The monster rose, and op'd its giant-jaws. 
 
 The hero saw his arm could not avail, 
 
 And therefore leaping in the dragon's mouth 
 
 Sought quick its heart, and pierc'd it through and 
 
 through. 
 
 Out of the serpent's gulfy throat his path 
 Then cut he with his sword, and thus by feata 
 Unequall'd came into the Fairy-land. 
 
 xxv. 
 
 gNo winter reigns within the Fairy-land ; 
 Eternal May spreads here its dewy rays. 
 No sunrise glows, no sunset brightly flames, 
 But rosy morning twilight ever shines ; 
 And fairy maids, and fairy boys, live here 
 In everlasting joy ; no death they know ; 
 They need no food, no drink, the kiss of love 
 Life, strength, and glee to them imparts. No grief 
 Comes near these shores, but joy sometimes bedews 
 The fairies' eyes with tears, and when they fall 
 Down to the earth, men call them diamonds. 
 
YANOSH, THE HERO. 301 
 
 Often in childish sport the fairy maids 
 Draw through the earth some of their golden hairs ; 
 This is the ore, coveted here below ; 
 And with the eye-beams of the fairy maids 
 The fairy children play, and rainbows wave 
 To ornament the lofty dome of heaven. 
 White lilies are the fairies' beds ; on these 
 They rest from joyful glee, and slumbering smile 
 Luli'd by the evening breath to sweet repose. 
 But in their dreams they see a world so bright 
 That e'en the fairy isle is but its shade- 
 When here below the first fond kiss of love 
 The lover presses on his maiden's lips, 
 This blessed world's delight thrills through his heart 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 When John beheld the Fairy-land, his sight 
 
 Was dazzled by the rosy hue around. 
 
 Scarce did he lift his eyes ; the fairies shunn'd 
 
 Not his approach, but kindly greeted him, 
 
 And led him farther on ; and when he saw 
 
 The isle, he seem'd awaking from a dream. 
 
 Despair now seized upon his heart ; he thought 
 
 Of his Hush. " Here, in the realm of love, 
 
 Here I am doomed to wander on, alone ! , 
 
 Where'er I glance, delight surrounds my view, 
 
 Delight lies everywhere, save in this heart." 
 
 He sought the lake, that shone amidst the land ; 
 
 He took the bud pluck'd on Ilushka's tomb 
 
 And spake : " Mine only wealth, who ow'st thy birth 
 
 To sacred dust, go hence, I follow thee !" 
 
 He threw the rose into the lake ; the flower 
 
 But touch'd the silver waves, when it became 
 
 Hush. Bewildered John now flings himself 
 
 Into the lake, and lifts from it his bride. 
 
802 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 Here were the waves of life, which wake anew 
 Whate'er they touch. When they bedew'd the rose, 
 Sprung from the maiden's dust, she lived again. 
 Great wonders I can tell, but not the joy 
 The hero felt, when he embraced his bride 
 How beautiful she was ! his fair Hush ! 
 The fairy maids admired her all, and soon 
 Elected her their Queen, the fairy boys 
 Proclaim'd the hero King ; and in this isle, 
 With his Hush,- up to this day, John lives 
 The happy ruler of the Fairy-land. 
 
THE HUNGAKIAN OUTLAWS. 
 
 THE robber is a personage who appears in 
 almost every Hungarian tale, and in every diary 
 of the tourists who have wandered over the 
 extensive plain of the Theiss ; not that they 
 have met the robber, but they certainly have 
 heard of him. The innkeeper has always a 
 story of highwaymen in readiness, to frighten 
 the stranger who arrives towards evening, in 
 order to retain him over night. 
 
 The Hungarian robber is, however, decidedly 
 different from the Italian banditti, from the 
 " Klepht" in the Turko-Greek mountains, or 
 from the Spanish " contrabandista." The 
 Hungarian robbers are in. general inoffensive. 
 
294: POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 Its rays shone mournful through the autumn mist. 
 
 John stagger'd from the grave of his belov'd, 
 
 But soon return'd anew ; a .little bush 
 
 Of roses grew upon the tomb ; he pluck'd 
 
 One bud, and thought : " Her dust has given thee birth, 
 
 Poor rosy bud ; thou shalt remain with me. 
 
 I'll wander to the limits of the world, 
 
 Till welcome death arrive to close my life." 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Yantshe had two companions on his way : 
 
 One was the grief that gnawed his heart ; his sword 
 
 The other, rusting yet from Turkish blood. 
 
 On pathless ways he stray'd : the moon had chang'd, 
 
 And disappear'd, and often chang'd again : 
 
 The earth adorn'd itself with flow'rs of spring, 
 
 When John address'd the grief that press'd his heart : 
 
 " Insatiable grief ! when wilt thou be 
 
 Weary of torturing this hopeless heart ? 
 
 Canst thou not kill me ? Get thee hence begone, 
 
 And seek another lurking-place. I see 
 
 Thou bring'st not death to me ; in other parts 
 
 I see it now. Adversity, to you 
 
 I turn, perchance you grant me welcome death." 
 
 Thus thought our John, and drove away the grief, 
 That to his heart but seldom now return'd, 
 And fled again, the heart was tightly closed, 
 And grief left but a tear on Yantshe's eye. 
 
 Weeks, months had pass'd, the tear had also dried ; 
 John carried on his wearied, wandering life, 
 And rcach'd a wood, where, deep immers'd in mud, 
 Up to the axletree, he found a cart. 
 The carter whipp'd his horse, but all in vain. 
 " Good morning, friend," said John. " A pretty morn, 
 Indeed," the carter grumbled. " Why so cross ?" 
 
YANOSH, THE HERO. 295 
 
 Our John pursued. " Why ! see the swampy road 
 
 Glues "to the earth my cart, and stops the horse." 
 
 " I will assist thee, friend ; but let me know 
 
 Whither leads yonder path ?" And to the right 
 
 He pointed, where a road led through the woods. 
 
 " Beware that path ! Who ventures there meets death ; 
 
 The giant's realm extends around, beware !" 
 
 John took the pole, and strongly seiz'd the cart, 
 
 And drew it from the mud ; and ere the man 
 
 Could tell his thanks, the hero disappeared. 
 
 He hasten'd to the woods, and soon a stream 
 
 He found the border of the Giant-land. 
 
 The keeper of the giants stood on watch. 
 
 " Is it a man who yonder creeps ?" he said. 
 " I'll crush him like a worm ;" but Hero John 
 Urisheath'd his sw r ord, and struck the giant's foot, 
 Who stumbling fell across the stream, and forra'd 
 With his enormous frame a lofty bridge. 
 Before he could rise up again, our John 
 Across him ran, and cut his head right off. 
 And thus he did arrive in Giant-land ; 
 But here, what greeted him ? mishap or luck 1 
 You soon will learn, if you attend my words ! 
 
 xx. 
 
 The hero stopp'd, and glanced astonish'd round : 
 The trees were high, in vain he sought their tops ; 
 The leaves were huge enough to be abodes. 
 Upon a branch a magpie sat ; it seemed 
 A wide-expanded cloud ; proceeding fast 
 John reach'd a castle dark and high. It was 
 The palace of the King, with gates so large, 
 So large so large I cannot say how large : 
 The giants surely build no mean abode. 
 John enter'd boldly, reach'd the hall, and found 
 
306 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 With the swarthy Slovaks of the South (the 
 northern ones and a great part of the Croats are 
 fair), who call themselves Serbs, robbery and 
 murder are by no means rare* The Wallack is 
 still more treacherous and cunning; assassina- 
 tion and violent revenge similar to the Corsican 
 Yendetta, are usual with him. 
 
 The Jew seldom steals, but often cheats and 
 harbours the thieves and their stolen goods, 
 which he can do the more easily, as he is 
 very commonly an innkeeper and publican, or 
 wanders as pedlar over the country, and thus 
 has the best opportunities of selling the stolen 
 wares. Yet the most subtle of all thieves is the 
 gipsy. His nimble limbs facilitate his getting 
 by stealth into the houses; he moreover has 
 not distinctly received the European notions of 
 property ; he is a practical communist ; his 
 principle has been for centuries " La propriete 
 c'est le vol." 
 
 The Hungarian occupies in criminal statistics 
 the place between the fair and the brown 
 Slovak. His -most common crimes are horse 
 and cattle stealing, manslaughter at a fray in 
 the tavern, and arson ; burglary, highway -rob- 
 bery and murder are exceptional cases with him* 
 
THE OUTLAWS. 307 
 
 "With respect to arson the Hungarian law is most 
 severe; this crime is punished with death. In 
 ancient times it was even allowed to throw an 
 incendiary surprised in the deed into the 
 fire, and in the present day even a threat of 
 arson is punished with heavy imprisonment. 
 
 The horse and cattle stealing is a propensity 
 connected with the ancient nomadic life of the 
 nation. A handsome horse or a stately bull on 
 the great plain often so powerfully tempts the 
 Hungarian peasant, that he can hardly resist the 
 desire to possess it. 
 
 About twenty years ago, Mr. Borbely, a 
 wealthy man, was noted in the country for his 
 eccentricities. He was fond of meddling in the 
 county elections, and once rode from the county 
 of Szabolos, with two hundred peasant nobles, 
 to an -election in the county of Beregh, where 
 his companions had the right of suffrage. 
 Arrived at the frontiers of the county, on the- 
 borders of the Tisza, he stopped and said : 
 
 " My noble brethren !* We are proceeding 
 
 * The peasant nobles (freeholders) are always ad- 
 dressed by the higher classes of society, with the words 
 Noble Brethren." 
 
308 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 to a constitutional solemnity in Beregli ; we are 
 to exercise there the greatest privilege of no- 
 bility, the right to elect a representative for the 
 Diet, and we must be mindful to behave in a 
 manner becoming our station. "We shall see 
 there many horses, many oxen handsome 
 oxen. Let, therefore, every one of us well 
 consult his conscience, and closely examine 
 whether he is able to resist temptation : it is 
 yet time. Whosoever does not feel himself 
 strong enough to subdue every inclination to 
 weakness, may step forth and return. We 
 stand now on the boundary, but as soon as we 
 have crossed the Tisza we are in the neighbour- 
 county ; and it would be a cruel shame if fewer 
 of us were to return than have set out, and if 
 several of our number should remain behind in 
 the county-house, not up stairs in the great 
 county-hall as guests, but below in the gaol, 
 shut up as thieves. Consider, noble brethren, 
 and decide." 
 
 It was a picturesque sight. Borbely in red 
 attire, cut in the peasants 7 fashion, with the 
 drawn sword in his hand, rode on a roan horse ; 
 a white feather flowed on his broadly rimmed 
 black felt hat. Around him were assembled 
 
THE OUTLAWS. 309 
 
 two hundred peasants of Szabolos, all adorned 
 with similar white feathers, their party sign ; and 
 in their rear halted forty cars, from which they 
 had descended to approach their leader and 
 listen to his discourse. "When he had ended, 
 they thunderingly cheered him ; but two of them 
 left the ranks, and declared they doubted whe- 
 ther they could resist temptation, and therefore 
 preferred to return. Borbely loudly praised 
 their conscientiousness, gave each of them ten 
 shillings for his journey back, and led his other 
 virtuous heroes over the Tisza. His speech had 
 the wished-for results, as his noble brethren 
 decided the election without getting into any 
 collision with the county justice of Beregh. 
 
 Mr. Borbely was a member of an association 
 known in Hungary in the beginning of this 
 century for its bold eccentricities. They called 
 themselves " Kolompos" (Bell-weather) ; their 
 grand-master was Count Nicholas Keglevich. 
 He belonged to one of the most noble families 
 of the country, was wealthy and unmarried. 
 Having previously been a hussar officer, he had 
 ever been known for his eccentricity. He 
 had grown tired of life in fashionable society, 
 which at that period had been almost totally 
 
310 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 Germanized ; lie withdrew to his own estates, 
 where, in common with several others of his 
 young friends, he used to clothe himself in 
 the old Hungarian costume, or in the peasants' 
 garb, never spoke any other language than 
 Hungarian, and very often lived amongst the 
 peasantry. The whole association professed 
 the roughness,' and not seldom the rudeness, of 
 the common people. 
 
 They sometimes traversed the streets at night, 
 with fiddling and trumpeting gipsy bands, and 
 thus disturbed the peaceable burghers. They 
 took part in the county elections, more for fun 
 than for the sake of political interests. Their 
 reckless tricks were countless ; and by reasonable 
 people they were laughed at, or censured accord- 
 ing to their deserts. 
 
 But in Vienna, Prince Metternich soon 
 became aware that this odd association was the 
 beginning of a reaction against the Germaniza- 
 tion of Hungary ; and the Austrian Govern- 
 ment, therefore, aimed at discrediting them still 
 more than they did themselves, by the unpo- 
 lished manners they ostentatiously adopted. 
 
 The Prince did not err. From 1822 to 
 1828, when the Hungarian counties resisted 
 
THE OUTLAWS. 311 
 
 the unconstitutional centralization measures at- 
 tempted by the Emperor Francis, the " Kolom- 
 posok" joined the constitutional opposition ; 
 and as they were most popular with the lower 
 classes, they afforded no slight support to the 
 national party. 
 
 To be accepted as a member of this associa- 
 tion, it was necessary to testify that one really 
 could live the people's life. These proofs were 
 sometimes of a peculiar kind. 
 
 Mr. T had, after the death of his father, 
 
 came into possession of considerable estates, 
 which, however, were partly mortgaged. Mr. 
 
 T was of a calculating turn, and thought 
 
 that the best speculation for him would be to 
 become Kolompos for a couple of years, to get 
 rid, in a comfortable way, of all the expensive 
 claims of fashionable circles, and thus be able to 
 restore his fortune without being taxed as a 
 niggard. He therefore proposed himself as a 
 candidate. Count Keglevich, well aware of the 
 
 real motive which urged Mr. T to join them, 
 
 was little inclined to admit him ; and therefore 
 declared that he could not be" received if he did 
 not prove his Spartan ability, by stealing a horse 
 at the next market in Sikso. 
 
312 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 Strange as the proposal was, Mr. T ac- 
 cepted it. He went to Sikso in a peasant's 
 attire, but was little aware that one of his asso- 
 ciates, who was sent after him to watch his 
 proceedings, had given information against him 
 to all the horse-dealers. He canght sight of a 
 horse, grazing on the common, close to the 
 market-place. It seemed alluringly posted for 
 his purpose, and he vaulted upon it, when 
 several peasants stopped him, and regardless of 
 his protestations, supported by the acknowledg- 
 ment of his name and rank, and of his perfect 
 readiness to pay any required price, thrashed 
 him soundly, and yielded but reluctantly to his 
 entreaties not to be delivered up to the county 
 justice. Nothing but the interference of one of 
 the Kolompos spared him this shame, and made 
 him aware that he had been the dupe of a pre- 
 meditated plan. 
 
 Similar was the fate of another gentleman, 
 who frequently visited Count Keglevich, and 
 
 was no less parsimonious than Mr. T , 
 
 but his niggardliness was joined with a most 
 unamiable propensity to destroy the property of 
 others. His greatest amusement consisted in 
 teazing and damaging his friends. 
 
THE OUTLAWS. 313 
 
 Once lie arrived in a new Viennese carriage 
 on the property of Count Keglevicli. Every one 
 acquainted with the stingy taste of Mr. lozsa 
 was astonished to see him arrive in so elegant 
 an equipage. Yet it was not unknown that for 
 more than ten years he had been in search of a 
 wife without ever finding a lady who, though 
 his fortune was considerable, would listen to his 
 suit. His unusual display was now attributed 
 to some new matrimonial schemes. 
 
 Count Keglevich took a ride with all the 
 guests, and ordered that in the meantime the 
 carriage of Mr. lozsa should be drawn to the 
 meadow, and be hidden under a hay-rick. 
 During the ride the Count praised his hay, and 
 especially the hay-rick on the meadow oppo- 
 site to his house, and observed, how much 
 during all the winter he should enjoy its aspect, 
 so satisfactory to a landowner's eye. He well 
 knew that this was sufficient to create in his 
 mischievous friend the desire of destroying the 
 hay-stack. When they returned home, an 
 ample dinner awaited the guests. Mr. lozsa, 
 who was habitually very sober, now feigned to 
 be excited by the fiery wine, and invited the 
 
 gentlemen by turns to take many a glass with 
 
 14 
 
314 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 him. "When the Count at the table again men- 
 tioned his hay-rick, Mr. lozsa, under the guise 
 of intoxication, invited the company to join him 
 in setting it on fire, saying, it would be a 
 glorious firework. The Count strongly pro- 
 tested ; but his guest seized a light, and with 
 the other gentlemen, who followed him with a 
 loud laugh, as they had been intrusted by the 
 Count with the real state of matters, lozsa 
 lighted up the hay, and resisted any attempts to 
 quench the flames. But what was his terror 
 on the subsequent day, when his coachman an- 
 nounced that the new Viennese carriage had 
 disappeared, but that its iron skeleton remained 
 on the meadow amidst the ashes of the 
 hay. 
 
 It may be almost superfluous to mention, 
 that this reckless company often got into trouble 
 with the police, and that several of their mem- 
 bers made acquaintance even with the county 
 prisons. Most of them, however, in mature 
 age became very reasonable people. They took 
 a part in politics : some of them remained in the 
 ranks of the opposition, others rose high in 
 Government office, and often related to their 
 friends the eccentricities of their youth, and how 
 
THE OUTLAWS. 315 
 
 they had studied the character of the people 
 in their own peculiar way, mixing with all orders, 
 from the Lord-Lieutenant and the County 
 Magistrates down to the company of robbers in 
 the wood. 
 
 The Hungarian robber is usually nothing else 
 than a homeless outlaw. On some unfortunate 
 occasion, perhaps, when a quarrel has arisen in 
 the tavern over a bottle of wine, he has not 
 precisely enough estimated the force of the blows 
 given by his fokos,* and has killed his comrade, 
 whom he intended merely to thrash. Or he 
 had escaped from prison, to which he had been 
 sentenced for horse-stealing ; or he is a deserter, 
 who, when he was sent to a distant corner of 
 Galicia, grew home-sick ; and struggling with 
 hardships and privations, forced his way over 
 the mountain-paths back to this country, where 
 he must seek the forest, as the village is no 
 longer safe for him. 
 
 Amongst the " Poor Lads" (for this is the 
 name these homeless fellows adopt), the de- 
 
 * The most usual weapon of the Hungarian peasant 
 is a' small brass axe, closely resembling that of the 
 antique " Celts." 
 
S16 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 serters are predominant in number ; as, in spite 
 of the warlike spirit characteristic of the Hunga- 
 rian, he does not like to be a soldier in the 
 Austrian army. He knows, that according to 
 the system of this Government, he will be 
 compelled to leave his country, and be sent to 
 Galicia, Italy, or one of the German provinces, 
 where he does not understand the language, and 
 must live for years amongst strangers. I re- 
 member that once in the forest we met such a 
 deserter. We attempted to convince him, that 
 it would be better to present himself at the 
 next military post, and to endure his punish- 
 ment, than to roam houseless about, without 
 knowing where to rest his head in safety ; but he 
 answered : "I was a shepherd from my boy- 
 hood. If the King commands me to keep his 
 sheep, never a single one of them shall be lost ; 
 but rather will I perish in my own country, 
 than carry the heavy musket for ever in distant 
 Italy." 
 
 During the campaign of 1814, the regiment 
 of Palatine hussars covered the somewhat 
 hurried retreat of the Emperor Francis to 
 Lyons, when he had been suddenly cut off from 
 the allied armies. When the monarch was in 
 
THE OUTLAWS. 317 
 
 safety, lie left to Colonel Illesy the choice of a 
 reward for the brave regiment. The officers all 
 thought their chief would request a lasting 
 distinction, such as several other regiments had 
 been favoured with on similar occasions. 
 They had not forgotten that the dragoon regi- 
 ment named Dampierre had been authorized by 
 Ferdinand II. to traverse the Court of the 
 Eesidence with drums beating ; and during 
 three successive days to establish their recruiting 
 table under the windows of the Imperial palace. 
 But the old Hussar Colonel cared little for such 
 privileges. He did not claim any decoration 
 for his standard ; he well knew his soldiers, and 
 asked only the favour, that after the conclusion 
 of peace his regiment should be quartered at 
 Ketshkemet. The officers were anything but 
 pleased at this preference of Ketshkemet, as its 
 neighbourhood is by no means reckoned a 
 pleasant station. The privates, however, were 
 delighted to get near their families ; and as the 
 request was granted, no further instance of 
 desertion occurred. 
 
 The life of such a deserter, when he has become 
 a " poor lad," is most romantic, but very sad. 
 He exists in the woods, often in the ruins 
 
318 POPULAK TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 of some ancient castle, and not unfrequently visits 
 the herdsmen on lonely farms, and requires 
 them to provide him with bread, wine, and 
 lard. If they give him a part of their stock, 
 he looks after their herds, and thus makes their 
 task easier. But if they refuse his demand, 
 he occasionally steals some of their flock, not to 
 sell, but eat them. 
 
 Sometimes when he knows that no hajdu 
 (county constable) is in the neighbourhood, he 
 ventures on Sunday evening to a remote village, 
 and dances in the tavern with the young women. 
 Of course he takes care to be well armed, and 
 even during the dance keeps his hand on his 
 pistol. Not far from our castle of Szecseny, on 
 the ruin of Holloko, there lived such a poor lad. 
 He was a deserter, and not seldom visited our 
 herdsmen on the remote farms. The shepherds 
 exposed to such calls, need to be better paid 
 than others, as they often fall into the necessity 
 of sharing their victuals with the robber, who 
 requests in a manner which makes a refusal 
 dangerous. The county judge, whom we well 
 knew, once had an official commission to a 
 Jewish farmer's, who resided in the mountains. 
 
THE OUTLAWS. 319 
 
 x 
 
 Our neighbour, the young Hungarian poet 
 Lisznyai, accompanied the judge on this ex- 
 cursion. 
 
 Established at the breakfast-table of the 
 farmer, they were suddenly interrupted by the 
 appearance of Janos, the outlaw, who had 
 opened the door, and stood on the threshold 
 with a double-barrelled rifle in his hand, and in 
 his belt a brace of pistols, and the batta, the 
 peculiar Hungarian axe. 
 
 " Sir," he began, "it is long since you sought 
 my retreat. I have therefore thought it my 
 duty now to wait here upon you, as you have 
 called upon my estates. Grant me permission 
 to ' keep you company for a little while." 
 "With these words he stepped into the room, left 
 the door open, and posted himself with his 
 back against the wall, in such a way as to keep 
 the door open in sight. He then took a cup 
 of coffee with the company, who, after they had 
 recovered from their surprise, questioned him 
 about his mode of life. He said, that he often 
 felt very dull, but sometimes found amusement 
 in the perusal of the novels and poems which 
 the Jew bought for him in Pest. He drew 
 
820 POPULAK TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 from his pocket a small volume of poetry ; it 
 chanced to be Lisznyai's, who was of the party. 
 The young poet was naturally highly gratified 
 at this adventure, and assured the nobles that 
 it gave him more pleasure to see his songs in 
 the hands of the "poor lad," than to read them 
 most favourably reviewed in the columns of a 
 fashionable paper. Janos also Was delighted 
 at the encounter, and said ; 
 
 " Young gentleman, as you so well know how 
 to handle the pen, do me the favour to write for 
 me a petition to the county, that the gentlemen 
 would not have me persecuted any longer. I 
 deserted from my regiment three times. The 
 last time, I left my post where I stood as senti- 
 nel; and if I -am given up to the court-martial, 
 nothing awaits me but three bullets. I have 
 murdered no one, I have robbed no one ; I live 
 as a poor lad, and request nothing but that I 
 may not be hunted like a wild beast. Is it not 
 miserable enough to be forced to live in the 
 forest, quite alone and shelterless? If a free 
 pardon is granted to me, I will handle the robbers 
 in the woods better than any county hajdu ; and 
 I will shoot down, wherever I find them, those 
 wretches who, some weeks ago, misused my 
 
THE OUTLAWS. 321 
 
 name when they plundered the Jewish pedlar. 
 These are criminals; I am ashamed that they 
 "call themselves poor lads." 
 
 The young poet promised the petition for 
 him ; the outla,w took a courteous leave, and in 
 a few moments had disappeared. Two months 
 later he was killed in a fray in the village, by a 
 young peasant, to whose pretty bride he had 
 paid too much attention. 
 
 On the great plain of Lower Hungary the 
 "poor lads" are more dangerous; here they are 
 horse and cattle-stealers, and often display 
 an astounding boldness. In any case they 
 are most dangerous to society ; for if one of 
 them is a desperate character he finds little dif- 
 ficulty in forming a band, which easily grows 
 into a gang of highwaymen. They seldom 
 carry on their mischief for any long time, as 
 even the extensive forests of the Bakony, and 
 the backwoods in the counties of Beregh and 
 Marmaros, grant them no secure shelter. They 
 seldom venture to attack travellers of higher 
 rank ; their victims are usually pedlars, or 
 Jewish innkeepers. It was a rare exception, 
 when in 1848 they dared to assault the 
 
 Metropolitan of Karlovitz, Archbishop Ver- 
 14* 
 
322 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 hovacz, who on his return home from Vienna 
 was suddenly stopped in the Sclavonian woods 
 by a gang of robbers. But the priest did not 
 lose his presence of mind ; he arose from the 
 seat of his carriage, showed the golden cross 
 Which adorned his breast, and exclaimed : 
 
 " Wretched men, do you not see I am 
 your Metropolitan ? I curse you as sinners, who 
 act in opposition to the commandments of our 
 Lord. You may kill me, but your crime shall 
 drive you through the world, and you shall be 
 accursed like Cain, and shall be fugitives and 
 vagabonds on the earth like him." 
 
 When the robbers heard these words they 
 fell on their knees and entreated : 
 
 "Do not curse us, Bishop; do not curse us! 
 bless us, that we may be fortunate upon earth!" 
 
 The Metropolitan replied : 
 
 "I cannot bless you, but go and sin no more, 
 and our Lord in his grace will, perhaps, forgive 
 your sins. Eepent and abstain from your cri- 
 minal deeds I" 
 
 The robbers no longer stopped the way of 
 the Archbishop, and the whole gang broke up 
 in a short time. The curse of the Prelate had 
 frightened them into repentance. 
 
THE OUTLAWS. 323 
 
 Prince Frederic Schwarzenberg, the son of 
 the celebrated Field-Marshal Schwarzenberg, 
 used often to relate his encounter with the 
 notorious robber Haburak. The Prince once 
 accompanied a lady from Hungary to Vienna. 
 They journeyed on the mountain-roads between 
 the counties of Gomor and Torna. Heavy 
 showers had greatly damaged the roads ; evening 
 approached ; the tired horses had reached the 
 ridge of the woody height, but could not be 
 urged on further ; and the travellers were thus 
 compelled to seek shelter for the night in the 
 inn of Aggtelek, a hiding place of ill note for 
 robbers. 4 The carriage halted before the house, 
 and the servant inquired whether room could 
 be afforded. The publican replied, that there 
 was one room for the lady, but that the gentle- 
 man could not be accommodated, the large 
 guest-room being over filled. After some 
 visible reluctance, he owned that the gang of 
 Haburak was drinking there. The lady became 
 terrified, and entreated the Prince not to remain ; 
 but it had grown dark, the rain was pour- 
 ing down, the horses were worn out, and the 
 steep descent of the road was so dangerous that 
 it was most hazardous to proceed. The Prince 
 
32-i POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 tried to reassure the lady ; so she locked herself 
 up in the room assigned to her. Her companion, 
 wrapped in his white officer's cloak, under which 
 he kept his pistols in readiness, stepped into the 
 apartment where the robbers were assembled, 
 and sat down at the table, facing the window, 
 whilst his servant, likewise armed, kept watch 
 outside the house, close to the window, on the 
 alert in case his master should want any aid. 
 
 The company consisted of about ten or 
 twelve men. Their rifles leaned against the 
 wall ; their axes lay upon the board, on which 
 stood the wine-jugs. They drank, sang, and 
 talked over their adventures, and did not take 
 any notice of the newly-arrived guest. The 
 Prince mixed in their conversation, took wine 
 with them, and listened to their conversation 
 until it had grown late. Suddenly he rose, 
 called the publican, threw a gold coin on the 
 table, and said : " This is for the wine these 
 good folks have drunk; they are my guests. 
 But now," he continued, addressing the robbers, 
 "it is time to sleep. In the adjoining room 
 is a sick lady: the entertainment has lasted 
 long enough ; I cannot allow any one longer 
 to occupy this room, or disturb the lady's rest 
 by noise." 
 
THE OUTLAWS. 325 
 
 At this imperative command one of the 
 robbers jumped from his seat, and con- 
 temptuously laughing, cried out: " Does the 
 gentleman fancy that because he has a carriage 
 and four, and plenty of money in his pocket, 
 he has the right to command us." 
 
 An uproar followed. The men vociferated : 
 " We are poor lads, and therefore ive are 
 masters here. 11 
 
 " We are no timorous peasants, who take off 
 our hats to every gentleman." 
 
 " We have yet money and credit enough to 
 swallow a draught when we are thirsty." 
 
 " We do not accept any gift from people who 
 fancy themselves better than we are." 
 
 " We will not be ruled." 
 
 All this was almost simultaneously uttered, 
 with a loud tumult, from all sides. All the 
 robbers had got up. The Prince mechanically 
 caught hold of his pistols, and threw off his 
 cloak. 
 
 "I am a master of the craft in which you 
 are but apprentices," he exclaimed with dignity. 
 "You are robbers; I am a soldier; and fear 
 neither the mouth of a rifle nor the edge of an 
 axe." 
 
 During this uproar, a man of middling height 
 
326 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 and strongly marked features had risen from 
 the bench beside the stove, where he had quietly 
 sat during the whole time, without partaking of 
 the wine. He now said in a commanding 
 tone: 
 
 " Silence !" 
 
 The robbers grew speechless at this order, 
 and again sat down to the table. 
 
 " Mr. Officer," continued the man, " don't 
 think that you frighten us. I too have been a 
 soldier, and have most probably smelt more 
 powder than you ever did. I am Haburak. 
 If I desired to do you any harm, a single 
 whistle would suffice. The table at which you 
 have sat would be overthrown, the candles 
 extinguished, and before you were aware of what 
 was going on, you would be a dead man, no less 
 than your servant there at the window, who 
 thinks he watches us, whilst we watch him. 
 But I saw you help a lady out of the carriage, 
 and take her to the adjoining room. We never 
 will disturb a lady's rest ; we war with men, 
 not with women. For the present we shall 
 leave this shelter; yet remember, sir, that it is 
 the first time for a fortnight that these men have 
 been under a roof, and that the couch there below 
 
THE OUTLAWS. 327 
 
 on the damp oak leaves is by no means com- 
 fortable. Farewell ! 
 
 " Friends, let us go," he called to his men. 
 They took up their arms and went. 
 
 The Prince was greatly struck by the whole 
 proceeding. He did not entirely trust the 
 robber's words ; and relieving his servant, they 
 paced up and down, thus keeping watch the 
 whole night. But no robber again appeared. 
 
 On the morrow the lady continued the 
 journey with her companion. The weather had 
 cleared up, and only the puddles in the lanes 
 and the drops of rain glistening on the branches 
 reminded them of the clouds of the previous 
 day. After they had ridden about an hour 
 they suddenly heard the discharge of a rifle close 
 to them in the woods. Haburak stepped forth 
 from the bushes, and bid the coachman " halt.' 7 
 
 The horses stopped ; the Prince drew forth 
 his pistols. But Haburak, without heeding his 
 threatening mien, rode close up to the carriage- 
 door and said : 
 
 " We yesterday sacrificed our comfort that 
 the rest of this lady should not be disturbed. 
 Now I will see whether it was worth the 
 trouble." 
 
328 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 With these words he lifted the veil, which 
 hung down from the lady's bonnet, and looked 
 for an instant into her face. The lady blushed, 
 and the robber said : 
 
 " She is really very pretty." 
 
 He turned round, plucked a wild rose from 
 a bush close at hand, and offered it to the 
 lady with these words : 
 
 " Accept this rose kindly as a keepsake from 
 the poor robber Haburak ; and if you some- 
 time hear that he has been hanged, pray an 
 Ave Maria for his soul." 
 
 The lady took the rose, and the robber 
 vanished. 
 
 Two years later newspapers related that the 
 robber Haburak had been caught ; that he had 
 been tried at the assizes in Torna, convicted of 
 desertion and highway robbery, and hanged. 
 
THE TRADITION OP THE HUNGAKIAN 
 EACE. 
 
 A NATION on whose cradle the bright sun of 
 modern history has shed its brilliant light, scarcely 
 can comprehend the feeling of an ancient people 
 clinging to the traditions of its race, which carry 
 it back to by-gone ages. These traditions, clad 
 in the charms of poetry, surrounded by the halo 
 of reverence for the ancestors, and endeared by 
 every century passed over them, become national 
 property ; and if the criticism of science points it 
 out that they are inconsistent with themselves 
 and with the historical records, they yet remain 
 so cherished by the people, that it never ex- 
 changes them against the most refined researches 
 of the scholar. Ask the Hungarian peasant on 
 the plains of the Theiss, which is the country 
 
330 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 from whence his forefathers have come, and he * 
 will proudly answer, it is Scythia, and his ances- 
 tors are the sons of the Greek Hercules, and of 
 the snake-legged Echidna, the mythical Queen 
 of Northern Asia. They were the men who 
 defeated Cyrus, the conqueror of Asia, and their 
 Queen Thomiris has thrown the head of the 
 slain King into a golden vase filled with blood, 
 that -at least after his death he might be satiated 
 with blood. He will tell you that they likewise 
 destroyed the army of the great Alexander who 
 had overthrown the Persian empire, when they 
 entrapped him into their immense prairies, where 
 they themselves disappeared in their native 
 marshes and forests, like the frogs and the mice. 
 He will tell you that King Darius of Persia has 
 hidden his treasures in Hungary, and many a 
 barrow in the plains of the Danube and the 
 Theiss has been opened by the peasants, in search 
 of the treasures of the Persian King. But he 
 also claims the Huns as his ancestors ; these sons 
 of Gog and Magog, and of the daughters of 
 Scythia, born in the wilderness of Gobi, from 
 whence they proceeded to settle in Hungary, and 
 to subdue the West. Tradition says, that a 
 sword fell from Heaven, and it was brought to 
 
TRADITIONS OF THE HUNGARIANS. 331 
 
 the court of Balamir, King of the Huns. Nobody 
 could wield it, because it was too heavy, until 
 the son of the King, young Attila, grasped it 
 with one hand and brandished -it, that it shone 
 like the lightning of heaven. But before he set 
 out to conquer the world, he wished to give 
 stability to his wandering people, to attach it to 
 the soil, that it might not be dispersed like the 
 chaff by the wind. He knew it, that it is the 
 house and the field which links the man to the 
 land, and transforms the roving nomade into a 
 citizen ; the fixed homestead is the first step to 
 civilization. On the last hill which rises over 
 the Danube, he therefore marked the site of the 
 town, which was to become the capital of his 
 nation, and he had dug a ditch, and had raised a 
 wall to inclose the future city. But his brother 
 Buda, a stern nomade, would not yield to the 
 decree of Attila ; he saw the liberty of his people 
 impaired ; if it was to dwell in stone houses 
 instead of the movable tents, he did not wish 
 that the pasture-grounds should be curtailed by 
 the agriculturist's crop, and he drove his cattle 
 across the ditch, and trampled down the wall, 
 and declared, he did not allow that their conv 
 mon mother, the earth, should be torn up by the 
 
332 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 iron plough. It was the conflict of the shepherd . 
 and the agriculturist. And Attila slew his 
 brother, and gave his name to the new city, that 
 every one might remember the fate awaiting him 
 who attempts to mar civilization. But even 
 Attila, with his iron hand, was unable to esta- 
 blish the complete settlement of his people, and 
 to change its habits. He himself perceived it, 
 that his people would lose its warlike character 
 by cultivating the fields, and clinging too much 
 to the soil. A wandering people on horseback 
 is always ready for war, as we see it unto this 
 day in the deserts of Africa and Asia, and 
 Attila's mission was to carry the sword of Heaven 
 through the world, and to chastise the degraded 
 nations of the West. He rode out with his 
 people through the wilderness of Germany to the 
 rich cities of Gaul and of Italy ; and Honoria, 
 the sister of the Eoman Emperor, was smitten 
 with love when she heard of his deeds, and she 
 sent him a golden ring by a messenger, arid 
 invited him to the Eternal City. And he 
 advanced to Italy and defeated the armies of the 
 Emperor, and captured and ransacked his cities, 
 and after having won numberless treasures, and 
 the hand of the Princess, he returned again to 
 
TRADITIONS OF THE HUNGARIANS. 333 
 
 Hungary. And there lie resided, in winter, in 
 his stone-palace at Buda, overlooking the wide 
 valleys through which the Danube winds its 
 course, and in summer he went to the green 
 banks of the Theiss, and dwelt under his felt- 
 tent with the chiefs of his tribes, and the princes 
 and knights of Germany came to him and sat at 
 the end of his table, and drank wine before the 
 people. And whilst they tasted the wine, the 
 minstrels sang the deeds of Attila, the Scourge of 
 God, and every man that heard the sound of the 
 flutes and harps paid honour to the King of 
 Kings. And when Attila thought that his 
 people had rested enough, then he led them 
 again to attack the debased sons of Eome, and 
 ransomed their cities, and carried the booty of 
 Italy and France away to the banks of the 
 Danube and the Theiss. The citizens of 
 Aquileja fled before his host to the isles in the 
 swamps of the Brenta, where the horsemen and 
 chariots of the King could not reach them, and 
 there they built Venice, the Bride of the 
 Adriatic. 
 
 At the approach of Attila, the Emperor fled 
 from Eome, but the people, headed by Leon the 
 Pope, went out to implore the Scourge of Heaven 
 
334 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 not to destroy their city, the wonder of the 
 world, and to spare the life of the trembling 
 descendants of the conquerors of old. And 
 Attila yielded to their entreaties, and to the elo- 
 quence of the high-priest, and he directed his 
 course to the other provinces of the empire, until 
 he became tired even of his victories. Once only 
 his enemies resisted him valorously on the Cata- 
 launian plains, and the Huns were nearly found 
 wanting in the balances when they were weighed. 
 Three days they struggled from dawn to dusk, 
 and on the fourth day both the armies retreated. 
 But the man who had led the hosts of Eome, the 
 great Actius, was soon slain by the Emperor, 
 who envied his fame, and Attila had no rivals 
 more on earth. And he returned again to the 
 plains of Hungary, despising the world he had 
 conquered, and the people he had led to con- 
 quest, but which he could not civilize. In his 
 old age he again married, the beautiful German 
 Herka, but the next day after the nuptials he 
 was found dead on the bridal couch. His sons 
 had his corpse embalmed, and laid into seven 
 coffins ; the first was of oak, the second of ebony, 
 the third of iron, the fourth of copper, the fifth 
 of tin, the sixth of silver, the seventh of gold. 
 
TRADITIONS OF THE HUNGARIANS. 335 
 
 And the prisoners of war were ordered, to dig a 
 canal on the Theiss, to turn off the waters, and in 
 the dry bed of the river they dug a deep pit and 
 buried the King, and then they let the waters 
 roll over the grave. And all those were slain 
 who had laid down the coffin, that none should 
 know where rested the mighty Scourge of Heaven, 
 and that the enemies might not insult his corpse. 
 For the Huns, who had raised their hands 
 against every nation, knew that the hand of 
 every nation would be raised against them, and 
 they had resolved to abandon Buda and Hun- 
 gary, and to return to the wilderness of Asia. 
 And so they did, and the country grew deserted 
 once more. 
 
 This is the tradition of the Huns ; its thread is 
 broken with the death of their great leader. It 
 is different from all the lays which the German 
 minstrels sing of King Etzer, as well as of the 
 records of the chroniclers of Kome and Gaul. 
 But the name of the mighty King survived his 
 nation, and it lives in the traditions of all 
 Teutonic peoples, from Iceland down to the 
 Black Sea. 
 
 Five centuries later, the Hungarians reappear 
 again in a nobler and a more glorious form. 
 
336 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 In tlie plains of Asia, between the Caspian Sea 
 and the Aral Lake, we behold the gathering of 
 the seven Hungarian tribes ; the spirit of wan- 
 dering has seized upon them ; the memory of 
 Attila has revived again ; they yearn for his 
 realm in Europe ; they dream of the meadows on 
 the Theiss, and of the waters of the Danube. 
 And their chiefs assembled, and they made a 
 covenant to last for ever. They resolved to elect 
 Almos and his progeny their chief, the Prince 
 of the Hungarian nation, to lead them back to 
 the old inheritance of Attila, and to be their head 
 in the struggle. They resolved that whatever 
 their people might conquer should be divided 
 equally amongst the people. They resolved that 
 the chiefs of the tribes never should, be excluded 
 from the councils of the Prince ; that whosoever 
 should conspire against the Prince should be 
 slain ; and the Prince, if he ever betrayed the 
 people and violated the covenant, should be 
 banished for ever. 
 
 And when they had carried these resolutions, 
 they slit their arms with their daggers and let 
 flow their blood into a golden tankard, and 
 mixed it with wine, and they all drank it to- 
 gether. 
 
TRADITIONS OF THE HUNGAEIANS. 337 
 
 Almos was an old and wise man, and his 
 name means " the dreamer" His mother had 
 seen a dream before he was born, which made 
 her afraid, and the wise men could make no 
 interpretation of it. She dreamt that she had 
 given birth to an eagle, who flew far away, 
 and covered the whole land with its wings. 
 And when her son was born, she called him 
 Almos " the dreamer" in remembrance of her 
 vision ; and he had already seen three- scores 
 of years passing away, and the dream was not 
 yet fulfilled, when he was elected the chief of 
 the seven wandering tribes. And he led his 
 people across the prairies, and morasses, and 
 forests of Kussia, and the Sclavonian people of the 
 North came to him, and brought him gifts and 
 tribute, silver and gold, and costly furs; and they 
 cut paths through the woods for the intruders, 
 and built bridges for them across the rivers. 
 Once only Almos met with sturdy resistance ; 
 the Hungarians fought all day until the enemy 
 retreated, and when the prisoners were brought 
 to the camp, it was found out that they too were 
 Hungarians, the seven tribes of the Cumani. 
 And they made amity with them, and the two 
 peoples, the branches of the same tree, joined in 
 15 
 
338 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 one nation, and 'proceeded further, until they 
 reached the passes of the Carpathian mountains, 
 the country which they had sought. And they 
 took now a rest of seven days, and offered a 
 white horse as a sacrifice to their gods ; a thanks- 
 giving for the happy accomplishment of their 
 undertaking. Almos, the dreamer, then gave 
 up his chieftainship to his son Arpdd, the vigor- 
 ous hero. The task of the wise man, to migrate 
 safely through Eussia, was accomplished ; Hun- 
 gary was now to be reconquered ; this was the 
 task of the warrior. 
 
 Svatopluk, the King of the Maharans, who 
 extended his sway from Moravia along the 
 Danube, ruled at that time over a vast portion 
 of Hungary. Arpad, the son of Almos, sent an 
 embassy to the Slovack King, with the message, 
 that the heir of Attila has come, and sends him 
 a white horse with a red bridle, and requires in 
 return a handful of grass from the wold of Alpar, 
 and a leather bag full of water of the Danube. 
 Svatopluk did not know the symbolic meaning 
 of eastern languages ; he did not surmise that the 
 gift of the grass and the water was the symbol 
 of the surrender of the country ; he rejoiced at 
 the stateliness of the horse with the sprightly red 
 
TRADITIONS OF THE HUNGARIAN'S. 339 
 
 bridle, and sent grass of Alpar and water of the 
 Danube by the ambassadors to Arpad, and was 
 highly astonished to hear, shortly after, that the 
 hosts of the newly-arrived people were pouring 
 forth from the Carpathians, and that already 
 they fed their cattle on the wold of the Alpar, 
 and watered their horses on the Danube. Svato- 
 pluk attempted resistance, but was defeated and 
 fled, and Arpad entered the ancient residence of 
 Attila, and remained with his grazing stud on 
 the Danube-isle of Cseper, whilst his underlings 
 conquered a portion of the country, and another 
 devolved upon the young son of the Prince by 
 his marriage with the daughter of the Wallack 
 King. And when the conquest was completed, 
 he assembled the Hungarians on the wold of 
 Szer, and with the consent of the people their 
 land was divided amongst them all, and order 
 established all over the country ; and castles and 
 houses were built in every county the centres 
 of defence and administration. 
 
 But the adventurous spirit of the people, 
 roused by the successful wandering from Asia, 
 and by the easy conquest of Hungary, could not 
 subside without great fluctuations. The chiefs 
 led their tribes to plunder into Germany and the 
 
340 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 Greek Empire. One of them, Botond, reached 
 Constantinople with his host ; here he slew the 
 giant who came to fight him, with his club, and, 
 unable to storm the walls of the city, he broke its 
 gates with his mighty hand, and the Emperor 
 became frightened, and paid ransom to the bold 
 invader. On the other side, Sehel attacked Ger- 
 many, but, crushed by overwhelming numbers, 
 he fell in the battle of Slerseburg, after having 
 slain the chief of the enemy, who had summoned 
 him to surrender with his bugle. From all 
 their invasions and excursions, they brought back 
 numberless prisoners, who were to till the ground 
 for their lords. 'But these prisoners were Chris- 
 tians, and Christendom and the arts of peace be- 
 gan to spread amongst the people. Prince Geiza 
 married a Christian princess, and had baptized 
 himself, but he did not cease to bring his obla- 
 tion likewise to the gods of his people; and 
 when therefore admonished by the priests, he 
 said : " I am rich enough to bring my offerings 
 to the old gods and to the priest of the new God." 
 But his son Stephen became a real Christian in 
 spirit and in life, and he taught his people by his 
 words and by his example ; and after three years 
 he declared that whosoever remained a hea- 
 
TRADITIONS OF THE HUNGARIANS. 341 
 
 then shall lose his freedom, and the prisoners 
 who are Christians shall be freed. And Kupa, 
 the chief of Somogy, gathered all the heathens 
 under his standard in resistance to the spirit 
 of innovation, maintaining the faith of their 
 forefathers, under whom they had won their 
 country, and grown great and happy. Accord- 
 ing to tradition, he rode the wonderful horse, 
 Tatos, endowed with reason and speech, which 
 sprang from mountain to mountain, the embodi- 
 ment of the people's spirit. King Stephen met 
 his enemy in open battle, and Kupa fled on his 
 horse, convinced that no one could follow him. 
 But suddenly Tatos stopt and trembled, and 
 began to shed tears, and the horse said: " Lord, 
 we are lost ! I hear the clattering of the hoofs 
 of my younger brother, who is speedier than I 
 am. King Stephen has found the means to 
 bridle him, and he overtakes us." And so he 
 did ; the King appeared likewise carried by the 
 embodiment of the people's spirit, and of a 
 younger and healthier one, and he slew the 
 heathen chief. 
 
 With the sainted King popular tradition sub- 
 sides again. The " Deeds of the Saints" contain 
 many a legendary account of the miracles done 
 
342 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 by the great King St. Ladislas, and by the sweet 
 Princesses St. Elizabeth and St. Hedwig of Hun- 
 gary. But the people hardly recollect their 
 names ; all their sympathies are concentrated in 
 one person, a saint for the people though not for 
 the Church, King Matthias. He was Hungarian 
 by birth and by soul, the son of the great Go- 
 vernor Hunyady himself, the conqueror of the 
 Turks and of the Bohemians the King who 
 chastised the faithless Princes of Austria, and 
 entered Yienna in triumph. Yet it was not his 
 glory which made his memory so dear to the 
 people, but his justice ; this truly royal virtue, 
 the only one which people require from their 
 rulers. Up to the present day, the Hungarian 
 peasant exclaims as often as he thinks himself 
 injured: " King Matthias is dead, and justice 
 with him." And he likes also to relate the feats 
 of the King and of his heroes, Foldy and Kinisy, 
 both sons of the people, strong and lion-hearted, 
 like Hercules the Greek and Eustan the Persian. 
 He tells you how the King perambulated the 
 country in disguise, and punished those who 
 oppressed the poor; how he entered even the 
 beleaguered city, and discovered the plans of the 
 enemies, sitting with them in a tavern at the 
 
TRADITIONS OF THE HUNGARIANS. 343 
 
 very same table on which, the morrow when he 
 had left, they found written the words 
 
 " King Matthias has been here at his leisure, 
 And has eaten six eggs with great pleasure." 
 
 There are yet various traditions alive amongst 
 the people of the times of the Turkish wars, and 
 of the successful insurrections against the Em- 
 perors, when they encroached upon the civil and 
 religious liberties of Hungary, and were com- 
 pelled four times in the course of one century 
 by the sword of the Hungarians, to recognise 
 their rights. But during the last century, the 
 people had no recollections either of glory or of 
 freedom, to adorn by their imagination and to 
 transmit to their children. The robber, then, 
 became the hero, who defied the laws deemed 
 oppressive by the peasant But the late struggle 
 for independence, in which the peasant was freed 
 from feudal bondage, the war in which he fought 
 hand in hand with his former Lord, in which he, 
 too, became conscious of his rights and of the 
 power of his nation, aroused anew his heart and 
 his mind, and the enthusiasm kindled within his 
 breast cannot die away without touching the 
 chords of poetry in his imagination. 
 
344 POPULAR TALES OF HUNGARY. 
 
 The history of the struggle is in itself so re- 
 markable that the mind can hardly invent scenes 
 more touching, than they happened in reality. 
 One of them may illustrate the spirit of the peo- 
 ple, and the confidence they placed in the im- 
 mortal Hungarian chief. The incident was re- 
 lated to me by an eyewitness. It was at the 
 time when Governor Kossuth was with the army 
 and the first battles were won. One day during 
 his meal, a non-commissioned officer entered the 
 room with a dispatch. Kossuth opened it, and, 
 after the perusal, he filled a glass with wine and 
 offered it to the soldier, with these words : 
 " Countryman, you bring good news, take a glass 
 of wine with me.' 7 The soldier put the glass on 
 the table and said : " This honour is too great 
 for me, allow me to Ipss the hand of the saviour 
 of my country." The Governor rose and em- 
 braced him, replying : " You do as much as you 
 can for our country, and so do I ; we both 
 equally do our duty." The soldier was deeply 
 moved, tears flew down his brown cheeks. He 
 bowed and retired. But one of the officers pre- 
 sent at this scene said to Kossuth : " Governor, 
 your kiss has signed the death-warrant of this 
 man!" "How so?" asked the Governor asto- 
 
TRADITIONS OF THE HUNGARIANS. 345 
 
 nished. " Because lie now feels honoured so 
 highly, that in the next battle he will seek dan- 
 ger, to prove himself worthy of this distinction." 
 On the following day, the terrible battle of 
 Hasegh was fought against fearful odds; the 
 batteries of the Austrians were carried by storm, 
 and the non-commissioned officer was found dead 
 at the mouth of an Austrian cannon, which his 
 fellow-soldiers had taken in the moment when it 
 was discharged, 
 
MEN AND WOMEN 
 
 OF THE 
 
 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 BY ARSENE HOUSSAYE. 
 
 With Beautifully-Engraved Portraits of Louis XV. and Made, de Pompadour, 
 In Two Volumes, 12mo., Cloth PRICE $2.50. 
 
 CONTE NTS, 
 
 DUFRESNY. LOUIS XV. CARDINAL DE BERNIS. 
 
 FONTENELLE GREUZE. CREBILLON THE GAY. 
 
 MARIVAUX. BOUCHER. MARIE ANTOINETTE. 
 
 PIRON. THE VANLOOS. MADE DE POMPADOUR. 
 
 THE ABBE PREVOST. LANTARA. VADE. 
 
 GENTIL-BERNARD. WATTEAU. MLLE CAMARGO. 
 
 FLORIAN. LA MOTTE. MLLE CLAIRON. 
 
 BOUFFLERS. DEHLE. MAD. DE LAPOPELINIERE 
 
 DIDEROT. ABBE TRUBLET. SOPHIE ARNOULD. 
 
 GRETRY. BUFFON. CREBILLON THE TRAGIC. 
 
 RIVEROL. DORAT. MLLE GUIMARD. 
 
 THREE PAGES IN THE LIFE OF DANCOURT. 
 A PROMENADE IN THE PALAIS-ROYAL. 
 
 LE CHEVALIER DE LA CLOS. 
 
 "A series of pleasantly desultory papers neither history, biography* 
 criticism, nor romance, but compounded of all four : always lively and 
 graceful, and often sparkling with esprit, that subtle essence which may be 
 so much better illustrated than defined. M. Houssaye's aim in these sketch- 
 es for evidently he had an aim beyond the one he alleges of pastime for 
 his leisure hours seems to have been to discourse of persons rather cele- 
 brated than known, whose names and works are familiar to all, but with 
 whose characters and histories few are much acquainted. To the mass of 
 readers, his book will have the charm of freshness ; the student and the 
 man of letters, who have already drunk at the springs whence M. Houssaye 
 has derived his inspiration and materials, will pardon any lack of novelty 
 for the sake of the spirit and originality of the treatment." BLACKWOOD. 
 
 IN PRESS, 
 
 PHILOSOPHERS AN1) ACTRESSES. 
 
 BY THE SAME AUTHOR. 
 
JUST PUBLISHED, 
 
 LAYS OF THE SCOTTISH CAVALIERS, 
 
 BY WILLIAM E. AYTOIJN, 
 
 PEOFESSOE OF LITEKATURE AND BELLES LETTRES IN THE UNIVERSITY OF EDINBURGH, 
 AND EDITOR OF BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE. 
 
 One Volume^ 12mo., Cloth PRICE $1. 
 
 "These strains belong to stirring and pathetic events, and until poetic descriptions 
 of them shall be disregarded, we think Mr. Aytoun's productions well calculated to 
 maintain a favorite place in public estimation." Literary Gazette. 
 
 " The ballads in question are strongly tinged by deep national feeling, and remind the 
 reader of Macaulay's ' Lays of Ancient Rome ;' and, from the more picturesque nature 
 of the subject, are, perhaps, even still more highly colored. ' Edinburgh after Flod- 
 den,' the Death of Montrose,' and the Battle of Kiliecranke,' are strains which Scotch- 
 men will not willingly let die." Men of the Time in 1852. 
 
 " Choosing from the ample range of Scottish history, occasions which are near and 
 dear to the popular sympathy of his country, Mr Aytoun, confident of the force of 
 strong convictions and a direct appeal to the elementary emotions of the human heart, 
 has presented us eight noble lays clear in feeling, simple and direct in expression, 
 and happily varied and variable in measure, which will, we are confident, outlive many, 
 if not all, ot his more pretentious and ornamented contemporaries." Literary World. 
 
 ALSO, 
 
 THE BOOK OF BALLADS. 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 BON GAULTIEE. 
 
 One Volume, ~L%mo., Cloth PRICE T5 cts. 
 
 "Bon Gaultier himself, his wit, satire, and versification, remained a 'Yarrow un- 
 visited.' The opuscula of that humorous writer, somehow marvellously escaping the 
 prehensile fingers of our publishers, were yet unknown to American readers ; though 
 an occasional whiff and stray aroma of the choice volume had now and then transpired 
 through the columns of a magazine or newspaper. 
 
 " Bon Gaultier's Book of Ballads is simply the wittiest and best thing of the kind since 
 the Rejected Addresses. Its parodies of Lockhart (in the Spanish Ballads), of Tenny- 
 son (his lovely sing-song puerilities), of Macaulay (the sounding Roman strain), of 
 Moses (the ' puff poetical'), are, with a dozen others, in various ways, any of them 
 equal to the famous Crabbe, and Scott, and Coleridge of the re-ascending Drury Lane." 
 Literary World. 
 
 IN PRESS, 
 
 Ma non Lescaut. 
 
 BY 
 
 THE ABBE PREVOST. 
 
OR, 
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF OUR HOME IN THE WEST, 
 
 BY ALICE CAREY. 
 
 Illustrated by DARLEY. One vol., l%mo. 
 
 " We do not hesitate to predict for these sketches a wide popularity. 
 They bear the true stamp of genius simple, natural, truthful and evince 
 a keen sense of the humor and pathos, of the comedy and tragedy, of life 
 in the country. No one who has ever read it can forget the sad and beau- 
 tiful story of Mary Wildermings ; its weird fancy, tenderness, and beauty ; 
 its touching description of theemotions of a sick and suffering human spirit, 
 and its exquisite rural pictures. The moral tone of Alice Carey's writings 
 is unobjectionable always." J. G. WHITTIER. 
 
 " Miss Carey's experience has been in the midst of rural occupations, in 
 the interior of Ohio. Every word here reflects this experience, in the rar- 
 est shapes, and most exquisite hues. The opinion now appears to be com- 
 monly entertained, that Alice Carey is decidedly the first of our female au- 
 thors ; an opinion which Fitz-Greene Halleck, J. G. Whittier, Dr. Griswold, 
 Wm. D. Gallagher, Bayard Taylor, with many others, have on various 
 occasions endorsed." Illustrated News. 
 
 " If we look at the entire catalogue of female writers of prose fiction in 
 this country, we shall find no one who approaches Alice Carey in the best 
 characteristics of genius. Like all genuine authors she has peculiarities ; 
 her hand is detected as unerringly as that of Poe or Hawthorne ; as much 
 as they she is apart from others and above others ; and her sketches of 
 country life must, we think, be admitted to be superior even to those delight- 
 ful tales of Miss Mitford, which, in a similar line, are generally acknowledged 
 *o be equal to anything done in England." International Magazine. 
 
 *< Alice Carey has perhaps the strongest imagination among the women 
 of this country. Her writings will live longer than those of any other 
 woman among us." American Whig Review. 
 
 " Alice Carey has a fine, rich, and purely original genius. Her country 
 stories are almost unequaled." Knickerbocker Magazine. 
 
 " Miss Carey's sketches are remarkably fresh, and exquisite in delicacy, 
 humor, and pathos. She is booked for immortality." Home Journal. 
 
 "The Times speaks of Alice Carey as standing at the head of the living 
 female writers of America. We go even farther in our favorable judgment, 
 and express the opinion that among those living or dead, she has had no 
 equal in this country ; and we know of few in the annals of English litera- 
 ture who have exhibited superior gifts of real poetic genius." The (Portland, 
 Me.) Eclectic. 
 
JUST PUBLISHED, 
 
 CHARACTERS IN THE GOSPEL 
 
 ILLUSTRATING- 
 
 PHASES OF CHARACTER AT THE PRESENT DAY, 
 
 BY REV. E. H. CHAPIN. 
 
 One Volume, 12m0. 5 Cloth PRICE 50 cts. 
 
 SUBJECTS. 
 
 I. John the Baptist ; the Reformer. 
 H Herod; the Sensualist, 4 
 
 III. Thomas; the Skeptic. 
 
 IV. Pilate; the Man of the World. 
 
 V. Nicodemus; the Seeker after Religion. 
 VI. The Sisters of Bethany. 
 
 "TSach of the persons here named is taken as a representative, or type, of a class still 
 found in the world, whose characteristics the preacher draws out and illustrates for the 
 instruction, reproof, or correction of his hearers and readers. The work is done with 
 a skilful hand, and in a style attractive and impressive. The book furnishes not only 
 agreeable, but very useful and instructive reading." Boston Traveller. 
 
 " The preacher has selected the most striking traits in each character delineated, aa 
 typical of classes at the present day. The practical nature and perpetual freshness of 
 the Gospel narrative are strikingly exhibited, in the parallels he draws between the 
 times therein described and our own." Journal of Commerce. 
 
 " They are forcible in style, vigorous in thought, and earnest in spirit ; and, although 
 there is much in it from which" we would most decidedly dissent, the book may bo 
 profitably perused by every mind of common discrimination." Courier fy Enquirer. 
 
 "As we read his pages, the reformer, the sensualist, the skeptic, the man of the 
 world, the seeker, the sister of charity and of faith, stand out from the Scriptures, and 
 join themselves with our own living world. The volume is very instructive, eloquent, 
 and quickening, full of thoughts and purposes most vital to our liberal views of 
 Christianity.' ' Christian Enquirer. 
 
 "The author of this work is well known as an eloquent lecturer, and those who read 
 this volume will not be disappointed in their expectations. It is intended to help the 
 reader to realize the vivid truthfulness and the perpetual freshness of the gospel narra- 
 tive. While we dissent from some of his opinions, we recommend it as an able and 
 eloquent work." Albany Express. 
 
 " Mr. Chapin has an easy, graceful style, neatly touching the outlines of his pictures, 
 and giving great consistency and beauty to the whole. The reader will find admirable 
 descriptions, some most wholesome lessons, and a fine spirit. He must not, however, 
 look for deeply spiritual views, nor for an estimate of men and deeds by the orthodox 
 standard. They are rhetorically very creditable, and deal with religious truth with an 
 earnestness not always to be found in the writer's denomination." N. Y. Evangelist. 
 
 " Mr. Chapin is a graphic painter. He writes in a forcible, bold, and fearless man- 
 ner : and while we can not accord with all his views, many suggestive thoughts and 
 useful reflections may be derived from its pages.'' Religious Herald (Richmond, Va.) 
 
 " These discourses have been delivered by Mr. Chapin from the pulpit, and all who 
 have listened to the speaker can attest to the charm which his eloquence throws around 
 any subject that he handles. These discourses teem with beautiful imagery, and 
 abound with strong, pungent truths, and whoever reads one will read the book 
 through." Olive Branch (Boston.) 
 
NARRATIVES 
 
 OF 
 
 SORCERY AND MAGIC; 
 
 FROM THE MOST AUTHENTIC SOURCES, 
 
 BY THOMAS WRIGHT, A. M., F. R. A. 
 
 In One Volume, I2mo., Cloth PRICE $1.25. 
 
 NOTICES OF THE PRESS. 
 
 This is one of the pleasantest books about witchcraft that we ever read ; 
 and Mr. Wright tells his stories and conveys his information with so much 
 spirit and good sense that we are sorry he, has confined himself to only one 
 department of a subject which he is very well able to treat as a whole. 
 Mr. Wright has rewritten the criminal annals of witchcraft in a style per- 
 fectly free from any important faults ; and he has illustrated his narrative 
 by rich collateral facts as could be acquired only by long familiarity with a 
 peculiar and extensive branch of antiquarian learning. We do not see 
 then that tjhe fortunes of witchcraft have aught to hope from any narrator 
 who may attempt to supersede him." Athenaeum. 
 
 " This is a very curious and highly interesting book. It contains a series 
 of popular stories of sorcery and magic (the first chiefly) and their victims, 
 from the period of the middle ages down to that of the last executions for 
 witchcraft in England and America. Mr. Wright tells these stories admi- 
 rably ; and without marring their effect as illustrations of the respective 
 phases of corrupt or imperfect civilization to which they were, incident, his 
 clear comments point the truth or philosophy of the individual case indepen- 
 dent of its subjection to general causes or influences. The range of infor- 
 mation in the book is extraordinarily wide, and it is popularly set forth 
 throughout, without a touch of pedantry or a dull page." Examiner. 
 
 " From this wide field Mr. Wright has selected two parts for illustration 
 viz., sorcery and magic ; and must have devoted much reading and research 
 to produce so comprehensive a view of them, not only in England ar* 
 Scotland, but in France, Spain, Italy, Germany, Sweden, and New 
 England." Literary Gazette. 
 
MISS CHESEBRO'S NEW WORK. 
 
 DREAM-LAND BY DAYLIGHT; 
 
 A 
 
 PANOKAMA OF EOMANOE. 
 BY CAROLINE CHESEBRO. 
 
 Illustrated T)y DARLEY. One vol., 12m0. 
 
 " These simple and beautifal stories are all highly endued with an exquisite 
 perception of natural beauty, with which is combined an appreciative sense of its 
 relation to the highest moral emotions." Albany State Register. 
 
 " There is a fine vein of pure and holy ihought pervading every tale in the vol- 
 ume ; and every lover of the beautiful and true will feel while perusing it that 
 he is conversing with a kindred spirit.'* Albany Evening- Atlas. 
 
 " The journey ihrough Dream-Land will be found full of pleasure ; and when 
 one returns from it, he will have his mind filled with good suggestions for practi- 
 cal life." Rochester Democrat. 
 
 " The anticipations we have had of this promised book are more than realized. 
 It is a collection of beautiful sketches, in which the cultivated imagination of the 
 authoress has interwoven the visions of Dream-Land with the realities of life." 
 
 Ontario Messenger. 
 
 " The dedication, in its sweet and touching purity of emotion, is itself an ear- 
 nest of the many ' blessed household voices' that come up from the heart's clear 
 depth, throughout the book." Ontario Repository. 
 
 " Gladly do we greet this floweret in the field of our literature, for it is fragrant 
 with sweets and bright with hues that mark it to be of Heaven's own planting." 
 
 Courier and Enquirer. 
 
 " There is a depth of sentiment and feeling not ordinarily met with, and some 
 of the noblest faculties and affections of man's nature are depicted and illustrated 
 by the skilful pen of the authoress." Churchman. 
 
 " This collection of stories fully sustains her previous reputation, and also gives 
 ft brilliant promise of future eminence in this department of literature." 
 
 Tribune. 
 
 " We find in this volume unmistakeable evidences of originality of mind, an 
 almost superfluous depth of reflection for the department of composition to which 
 it is devoted, a rare facility in seizing the multiform aspects of nature, and a still 
 rarer power of giving them the form and hue of imagination, without destroying 
 their identity." Harper's Magazine. 
 
 "In all the productions of Miss Chesebro's pen is evident a delicate perception 
 of the relation of natural beauty to the moral emotions, and a deep love of the true 
 and the beautiful in art and nature." Day-Book. 
 
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
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