Such were the soldiers with whom Görgey drove before him the best generals of Austria; with whom he triumphed in that brilliant conflict, of fourteen days' duration, which terminated in the capture of Pesth, the relief of Komorn, and the complete retreat of the Imperialists.[21] These were the men who rode up to the very mouths of the Austrian cannon at Isazeg,[22] and who followed, in twenty conflicts, the well-known war-cry of the gigantic Serb, Dámjánics. Of this last-named general (of whom Schlesinger has given many interesting details,) we find an interesting and authentic anecdote in Sajó's vigorous military sketch, entitled _The Two Brides_. Dámjánics and his troops encamped in the night at two leagues from Szolnok. In order of battle, and without watch-fires, they there awaited the signal to advance. The signal was the sound of cannon, fired beyond the Theiss. The Hungarian General had already fought many battles, won many victories, taken many standards. When he began a battle, he stationed himself in front of his army, looked where the foe was strongest, shouted "Mir nach!"[23] and rushed forward, overthrowing and crushing all before him. It was his way. There were persons who did not like this way, and who wearied him with assurances that, to be a renowned general, it is not enough to win battles; one must also leave permanent evidence of merit, to be handed down to future generations; one must make speeches, issue proclamations, and so forth. So it came to pass, when he marched away from the Banat, that he addressed to the hostile party in the province a proclamation which has become celebrated. It was word for word as follows:-- "Ye dogs! "I depart. But I shall come back again. "If in the interval you dare to stir, I will extirpate you from the face of the earth; and then, that the seed of the Serbs may be extinct, I, the last of them, will shoot myself." The success of this first attempt so encouraged the General, that, after much persuasion, he gave a solemn promise to make a speech to his army when next they went into action. On the eve of the battle, Dámjánics felt his spirits extraordinarily low. "Strange," thought he to himself, "never yet have I trembled at the approach of a fight, but now I feel as if I had no stomach for it." And he sought within himself the cause of this unaccustomed mood, but all in vain. Presently, however, one of his staff-officers came to remind him that, before the next day's battle, they expected to hear the speech he had promised them. "Devil take it!" cried the General. "_That_ was what made me shake in my boots. But never fear, it shall be done--I will venture it--the speech you shall have." He had drawn out his plan of battle in a quarter of an hour. But morning dawned whilst he was still hammering at his speech. The troops stood in order of battle. Dámjánics rode along the front of the line. Everybody knew he was to make a speech, and what a cruel task it was to him.