The Red, White, and Green

  CHAPTER IV.

  _VIENNA IN FLAMES._

  For the second time the Croats were about to hurl themselves against thebarricade defended by the daring Pole. A cluster of bodies twenty yardsin advance of it showed where the first rush had been stayed.

  The black nozzles of several guns peeped from the huge pile, and thegunners stood ready with lighted matches.

  Looking at Bern, I remembered Rakoczy's story, and really it appeared asif the man were bullet-proof. Others exposed themselves for a moment,and were shot down; he, holding a short riding-whip in his hand, stoodwith the most perfect _sang-froid_ in the hottest of the fire, cheering,directing, encouraging, and was not hit once.

  Had I not seen it with my own eyes, I should have doubted a narrator whotold me the story, for the thing was almost incredible even to aneye-witness.

  But the Croats were ready. The signal rang out; they went forward inloose formation, slowly at first, afterwards more quickly, a fewdropping by the way. Then, with an appalling yell, they literally flewover the ground, brandishing their handjars.

  Once at close quarters, the Viennese would go down before them like ripecorn beneath the sickle.

  The Austrians in reserve cheered. Another minute and their allies wouldbe swarming over the barricade, when suddenly, from the mouths of Bern'sheavy guns, belched sheets of flame. There came a tremendous report;the barricade trembled; the whole scene was blotted out by a cloud ofsmoke, which drifted slowly away, and then the Croats were seen retiringsullenly.

  Of all their number, one alone had reached the goal, and he was aprisoner.

  The Viennese cheered like mad; Bern gave some orders to hisartillerymen; the imperialists covered the retreat of their allies by asharp musketry fire.

  Then both sides paused--the insurgents smilingly secure in theirstronghold, their opponents to get ready for a fresh attack. With manyother non-combatants, we had climbed to the roof of a house, from whichwe obtained a splendid view.

  "The Austrians are going to do the work," said Stephen, who had a strongprejudice against irregular troops.

  "It's throwing life away," answered our companion; and even I, who knewmuch less of military matters than he did, felt that the drilledinfantry had little chance of success.

  However, they were forming steadily for the assault. The officers sprangto the front, holding their swords unsheathed, the drums beat theadvance, and the regiment moved on with the regularity of clockwork.

  They made a brilliant spectacle, those hardy veterans, with heads erect,and resolute, determined faces, marching to destruction like one vastmachine.

  Faster and faster their feet moved, faster and faster the drums beat,rataplan, rataplan, till the music got into their bodies, and with a"Vivat der Prinz!" they broke into a swift run. I looked at the Polishleader; he stood like some genius of the conflict, directing and evencontrolling the progress of the strife.

  The infantry, although advancing so swiftly, never for an instant gotout of hand. As one man fell, another filled the gap; and when we lastsaw them before the thick smoke shut out the view, they were in evenlines, shoulder to shoulder, as if on parade.

  Crash, crash, went the heavy guns, and the shot and shell ploughedthrough the solid ranks, making great gaps, as we well knew, thoughnothing was visible till the sulphur cloud lifted.

  The attack, like the two preceding it, had failed miserably. Would theytry again? It really seemed like it, though in the three assaults theyhad been punished fearfully.

  "They may keep on like that all the afternoon," said Rakoczy, "but theywon't take the barricade. These front attacks are useless. I wonderthe Ban permits them. Oh, there's the reason! See!" and he pointedtoward the barricade.

  Everything there was in confusion. While most of the citizen fightersclung to their posts, many ran or tried to run away.

  In vain the Polish general exposed himself with the utmost recklessness;the position was lost.

  While one body of Croats, supported by the Austrian infantry, had beenattacking in front, the remainder, led by Ban Jellachich, had foughttheir way through the suburb of Leopoldstadt, and clearing the Avenue ofthe Emperor Francis, had fallen upon the barricade in the rear.

  "Forward, forward!" rang out the cry at our feet, and the whole forceadvanced at a run.

  The Austrians charged with bayonets levelled; the Croats, discardingtheir stanitzas, gripped their handjars, and with loud shouts hurledthemselves against the position.

  Between these two forces the Viennese were crushed. The gunners stoodbravely by their guns till they were cut down. Bern appeared to betranquilly giving orders; half a hundred students, banding themselvesinto a solid body, fought doggedly; but from the moment Jellachich'stroops arrived the issue was certain.

  A great burst of cheering rose when the black and yellow standard of theAustrians and the red, white, and blue of the Croats fluttered side byside on the summit of the barricade.

  The fight, in that place at least, was over; the citizens haddisappeared. The imperialists embraced each other, shook one another bythe hand, laughed and danced and waved their caps in the air, shoutedfor Jellachich and the emperor, and finally ran on to pursue theirvictorious career. Round the captured barricade the dead lay thick, andthe wounded as usual moaned piteously for water.

  We went amongst them, doing the little that was possible to ease theirpain, and helping to remove some into safer quarters.

  To add to the horror, one of the houses caught fire, and it was fearedthat the whole street would soon be ablaze.

  Farther off we could hear the booming of the heavy guns, the sharprattle of musketry, the shouts of the combatants, the cheers andcounter-cheers which told us how the battle was going.

  From time to time, too, people brought reports of the fight, and theyall boded ill to the insurgents.

  The railway station of Gloggnitz, the Hotel des Invalides, theVeterinary School, were taken one after the other by the imperialists,who, when night fell, were practically masters of the suburbs ofLeopoldstadt and Landstrasse.

  And such a night as that twenty-eighth of October I had never beheld.The town was on fire in more than twenty different places. Half thehouses of the two suburbs were riddled by shot and shell; the flameswere consuming the other half.

  Red tongues of fire leaped into the sky, forming a grand but terriblespectacle.

  The homeless people stood in the streets, some hopelessly dazed andstupid, others fighting the flames as sturdily as they had fought theAustrians; while a few philosophers, who had nothing at stake, looked oncalmly at the conflagration.

  As for us, our time was fully occupied in removing the wounded from theburning or threatened buildings. Throughout the night we toiled, and itwas pleasant to see the genial Rakoczy, with his bright, cheerful face,giving water here, binding up a wound there, or helping to carry a sickman to a safer shelter.

  A few kind words, a cheery smile, a pressure of the hand, a look ofsympathy, he distributed impartially; and men of various nationalitiesmust have blessed the handsome Hungarian, who spent himself so freely intheir service.

  Several times we had to face the gravest dangers. Houses were burning,walls falling; but the helpless must be rescued, and Rakoczy, neverblenching himself, inspired confidence in others.

  Many pitiful little dramas took place in the streets, where women andchildren searched, often, alas! in vain, for the bodies of their lovedones.

  Thus the night passed, and the return of day revealed the horrors of thescene more plainly still.

  During the hours of darkness there had been something grand about theconflagration. The great red blotches lighting up the sky, the vividtongues of fire leaping, as it seemed, sportively from point to point,darting here and there, now joining, now separating, throwing into boldrelief some noble building which again was lost in the black smoke,bringing into view the varied uniforms of the victorious soldiery--allthese things powerfully
seized the imagination, crowding out the moreprosaic horrors.

  Daylight restored the true proportion of things, and it was indeed asorrowful sight on which we gazed.

  Charred and blackened walls met us at every turn; half-consumed houses,battered and ruined buildings, huge gaps in the streets where thefire-fiend had worked his will; and, worse than all, the white-faced,sad-eyed women and innocent children, bereaved alike of home and of thestrong arms that had hitherto been their support.

  Some, wringing their hands in despair, cried aloud the names of theirlost ones; the majority, dazed by grief, sought silently and with anunremitting patience that touched the hearts of the beholders.

  The fighting, as far as we could tell, had long since ceased, and wasnot renewed.

  A rumour spread that the chiefs had sent to ask for a suspension ofhostilities while they talked over the terms of surrender, and I thoughtthey acted very wisely.

  "Bound to submit," said Rakoczy cheerfully, "they can't do anythingelse. A revolution seldom succeeds unless the army joins the people."

  We spent the day amongst the wounded, and at night, a capitulationhaving been agreed on, helped to convey some of them into the city.

  Then, quite worn out by thirty-six hours of continuous labour, we wentto our lodgings, and after eating a little food, lay down to rest.

  Rakoczy, who lived in another house, joined us the next morning atbreakfast, and we sat for an hour talking over our plans.

  Stephen was anxious to leave Vienna at the first opportunity, and asRakoczy had finished his private business, it was arranged that weshould do so.

  "We will go and see the imperialists march in," remarked John;"afterwards it will be easy to slip away."

  Accordingly we went out, and found the streets filled with excitedpeople who were shouting tumultuously, "Long live the brave Hungarians!"

  "What's the meaning of this craze?" Stephen asked, looking at us insurprise.

  "Something up," said Rakoczy, "and something queer too. Let us followthe crowd; we shall soon learn."

  "Strange there should be so few students and National Guards about," Iremarked.

  "They're on the ramparts and at the gates. They'll stay till thesurrender is formally completed."

  Several men in blouses heard the word "surrender," and immediatelyshouted, "No surrender! Down with the Hapsburg butchers! Long live thebrave Hungarians!"

  On all sides the cries were repeated, and we, more astonished than ever,ran on quickly.

  The Place of St. Stephen's appeared to be the rendezvous, where awildly-excited mob had gathered round the noble cathedral. A cheer rosefrom the surging mass as a young man, mounting above the heads of hisfellows, read out the contents of a billet sent down from the summit ofthe tower by Messenhauser.

  We were too far off to hear the exact words, but they were to the effectthat the Austrians were being attacked.

  The thoughts of every one immediately flew to the Hungarians, and shoutsof "Long live Hungary!" once more rent the air. A light cloud ofannoyance spread over Rakoczy's face.

  "That's no soldier's doing," he said. "No one but an imbecile would pitour raw recruits against an army of veterans."

  The Viennese thought differently; and when, two hours later, a secondbulletin was issued, stating that the Hungarians were advancing, thecitizens became wild with joy.

  The capitulation was forgotten; flags were waved, cannon discharged, andpaeans of victory sung.

  Stephen and I talked largely of Hungarian prowess, and of what ourcountrymen could do; Rakoczy smiled and said nothing, which showed hiswisdom.

  The fight had drawn nearer; the insurgents were cannonading theimperialists from the ramparts with their long-range guns; we stood inthe Place of St. Stephen's, and gazed eagerly at the summit of thetower.

  Suddenly a great stillness fell on the crowd. By what mysterious meansthe knowledge of the evil news spread from the mind of one man toanother I cannot say, but certain it is the cheers and flag-wavingstopped before the vast majority of the crowd even knew thatMessenhauser had sent down his third note.

  A yell of rage and disappointment greeted the reading of the message.

  Rakoczy's good sense had proved superior to our boasting: the Hungarianswere in full retreat.

  The news produced a startling effect on the Viennese. Obedience to anypower came to an end; the reign of disorder began.

  Shops were looted and private residences sacked; furniture was throwninto the streets, and the owners were assaulted; the town went mad.

  I thought of the Baroness von Arnstein and her pretty daughter; andRakoczy, guessing at the cause of my gloomy face, proposed that weshould go round to their house.

  "Von Arnstein is known to be with the army," he said, "and it is justpossible the worthy citizens may wreak their vengeance on his family."

  We found the ladies at home, and very glad they were to see us.

  In spite of her pride, the elder lady showed signs of fear--not so much,I think, on her own account as on her daughter's.

  "This is terrible," she said, "and just as we hoped the mischief was atan end. Your countrymen have much to answer for, mein Herr."

  "Nay," replied Stephen, to whom she spoke. "The Hungarians fightagainst men; they do not attack women and children."

  "But," said the young girl, "the rebels acted very unfairly in firing onthe soldiers this morning."

  "And unwisely, too," answered Rakoczy. "They are in a worse positionnow than they were before. They are bound to capitulate within a fewhours."

  "Meanwhile," said I, blushing boyishly, "if agreeable to you, we proposeto remain here till the danger is over."

  The baroness thanked us warmly for what she was pleased to call ourchivalrous conduct, while the fraeulein's eyes spoke as eloquently asher mother's lips.

  "My servants are well armed," the elder lady continued, "and Franz is ahost in himself, but we shall certainly feel more secure, knowing youare with us. Yet how strange it is that we should be relying on theservices of three Hungarian gentlemen!"

  "Really," exclaimed the fraeulein with a merry laugh, "we ought ratherto be afraid of you. But why do your people quarrel with us, and driveaway our poor emperor?"

  Rakoczy drew out a locket, which hung round his neck by a fine goldchain.

  "Do you recognize that picture?" he asked, releasing the spring.

  "Why, it is the emperor himself."

  "It is also the King of Hungary, for whom thousands of Hungarians wouldlay down their lives."

  The girl knitted her brows, as if trying to solve some knotty problem.

  "I don't understand," she said. "You fight against the emperor, yet youprofess great devotion to the King of Hungary, who is the same person."

  "Yet it is very simple. The Magyar's first love is for his country, hissecond for the king. Now, as emperor, Ferdinand has taken away ourrights, which we must have back. When we get them, no king will havemore loyal subjects than Ferdinand."

  "But I understood you were all republicans," said the baroness.

  "We are royalists, madam," replied Stephen.

  "Who will fight for a republic. That is what Kossuth wants. We knowhere what the pulling of the wires will lead to. If your countrymensucceed in this war, they will become the subjects, not of KingFerdinand, but of Dictator Kossuth."

  "Listen!" I exclaimed. "The street is filled with people."

  The windows in the lower part of the house were already secured by heavywooden shutters, and now we heard Franz barring the door at the mainentrance.

  Rakoczy and Stephen ran to aid the servants in case of need, while Istayed with the ladies.

  I suggested it would be well to draw the curtains, but the baronesswould not consent, so we sat looking down into the street.

  The people did not appear to have any wish to do harm. They passed alongsinging, and waving flags, and many were already out of sight when someone raised a cry of "Von Arnstein." At the sound of that name theoth
ers stopped, and quickly collecting in front of the house, began inloud tones to abuse the absent noble.

  The baroness gave an expressive little shrug of the shoulders.

  "What poltroons!" she exclaimed contemptuously. "If my husband werehere they would run like a flock of frightened sheep."

  With this remark I could scarcely agree; nevertheless I had sufficientwisdom to keep my doubts to myself.

  I looked at the fraeulein. Her face was pale, but she was perfectlycool and collected; as she said afterwards, a soldier's daughter mustlearn to face danger.

  "It's only a street brawl," I said. "They will get tired soon and goaway."

  But it is always difficult to reckon on what a mob will do, and this wasa case in point.

  The words had hardly left my lips, when a man, wearied perhaps ofshouting, varied his pastime by aiming a stroke at the door with a heavyhatchet.

  The effect of that one blow was to change the character of the crowdentirely.

  Hitherto it had been one of merely disorderly citizens, lawless andunruly, no doubt, but not bent on any definite mischief. The ringing ofthe axe against the door acted as a signal for the loosing of a flood ofevil passions.

  Every one struggled to get in a good blow, and instead of the harmlessthough bitter language of a few minutes previously, we heard the morealarming cry of, "Death to the aristocrats! Death to Von Arnstein!"

  The baroness moved nearer to the window, and I placed myself in front ofher, saying,--

  "This is madness, madam!"

  She asked me with haughty courtesy to stand aside, and I, fearful of therisk she was running, appealed to her daughter. Her answer was to placeherself by her mother, who opened the window.

  The battering at the door and windows stopped while the crowd looked upcuriously.

  In a clear, hard, but passionless voice the baroness said,--

  "I am Von Arnstein's wife; this is his daughter. My servants are armed,my house is defended by friends. If you enter, it will be at yourperil."

  For answer, some one on the outskirts of the crowd fired a shot, whichlodged in the window-frame, and I drew the ladies back.

  "Foolhardiness is not bravery," I said brusquely, and shut the window.

  Then the attack on the door recommenced, and we heard quite distinctlythe thud, thud of the heavy weapons.

  I went to the head of the stairs and looked down.

  Franz stood by the door with his ponderous club in his hand; I pitiedthe man who should be first to enter.

  The other servants were on the stairs, and by their looks I judged theywould be of scanty service to their mistress.

  My brother and Rakoczy, sword in one hand, pistol in the other, stoodnear Franz.

  "The Joyous" caught sight of me, and laughed.

  "A new way of entertaining guests," he said. "The Baroness von Arnsteinwill become famous for her receptions!"

  "The door yields!" exclaimed Franz gravely. "See to the ladies, meinHerr;" and he took a firmer grip of his club.

  I nodded and went back, though I would rather have remained; shortlyafterwards a yell of delight from the crowd proclaimed that the door hadfallen.

  The baroness looked at her daughter, who smiled back in answer; neitherappeared the least moved.

  The fighting on the stairs had lasted ten seconds perhaps, when theservants came rushing into the room in a body. Their faces were white;their hands shook so that the pistols they carried pointed to twentydifferent places at once, and I thought it extremely likely that therioters would be spared the trouble of killing us.

  "Put those things down, you scoundrels!" I cried, feeling certain theywould be more dangerous to us than to the enemy; and when it was done, Iadded, "Now, back to the staircase and fight for your mistress, or Iwill kill every man of you!"

  "What cowards!" exclaimed the baroness scornfully. "They will do nogood."

  "They may form shields for braver men," said her daughter.

  Meanwhile, the sounds of the fighting grew more acute, and, knowing howfar outnumbered my companions were, I felt compelled to run to theiraid.

  The servants whom I had driven out were huddled together at the top ofthe stairs, doing nothing; but, half-way down, Stephen and his twocompanions were still making a great fight.

  Uttering a cry of encouragement, I ran down, and, discharging my pistolinto the thick of the crowd, drew my sword.

  My brother had received a slight cut across the head; Rakoczy, as yetuntouched, was smiling cheerfully, and by his marvellous skill of swordkeeping back the most dangerous of the assailants.

  Franz's right arm was hanging by his side useless; but he swung his clubwith the left, and smiled grimly when a man dropped.

  The situation, however, grew desperate. Force of numbers compelled usto yield several steps; Stephen had again been hit, and Rakoczy wasbleeding from a wound in the arm.

  I would like to record how, in this last extremity, we alone, by the aidof our good swords, cleared the house of the rioters; but that would notbe true, as we owed our safety to quite other means.

  In the next chapter I will relate exactly what happened.