Hungary -- History -- Uprising of 1848-1849 -- Fiction
Frequently, on popular festivals, you might notice on his index-finger a
rude iron ring (the handiwork of a blacksmith rather than of a jeweller,
from the look of it), the seal of which was engraved with the three
letters: U. S. S. On such occasions, anyone observing him closely could
have remarked that he carried his head higher than usual, and whenever
he was asked what these initial letters signified, he would simply shrug
his shoulders and say that he had got the ring from a comrade in his
student days, and really did not know _what_ the letters meant.
During vacation time he would regularly undertake long journeys on foot
into distant parts of the land, traversing no end of mountains and
valleys, and always returning home more surlily disposed towards the
lord of the manor than ever, at the same time dropping mysterious hints
in the presence of his confidants, and talking darkly of old
expectations being realised, of extraordinary forthcoming events, and of
important changes in the general order of things here below.
Nowadays people will scarcely believe that there are men whose whole
course of life is determined by such baseless and centrifugal ideas.
Such a species of human ambition is certainly a great rarity. It
resembles that cryptogram which goes by the name of "star-ashes," whose
tremulous spray-like masses only appear in rare seasons and odd places
after the warm summer rains. No ordinary soil is good enough for them.
At any rate, Mr. Thomas Bodza would have acted more wisely if he had
endeavoured to inoculate the minds of the faithful committed to his
charge with a little reading, a little writing, and some slight
knowledge of geography, ethnology, natural history, and fruit
cultivation, instead of assembling round him all the loafers of the
district in the pot-house, the meeting-house, at the hut of the forest
rangers, or in some underground cellar outside the village, and there
putting into their heads ideas which, interpreted by their ignorant
fanaticism, could only be productive of infinite mischief.
He had in all the villages round about personal acquaintances, whom he
was wont to visit successively in the course of every year, and whose
fantastic aspirations he constantly did his best to keep alive.
And at last the opportunity had presented itself for beginning his great
work.
Being a very well-read man himself, he had been the first to learn from
the newspapers of the approach of that dangerous contagious sickness,
the antidotes against which were still unknown.
Suddenly a mysterious rumour began to spread through the villages that a
powerful foreign nation was about to invade the kingdom for the purpose
of reconquering for the descendants of the Quadi and the Marahanas the
Pannonian provinces that they had held centuries before.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account