The Village Notary. báró József Eötvös

supreme, both in strength and in numbers. The middle classes and the gentry belonged to it; while Széchenyi's followers were members of the high aristocracy, who resided in the metropolis, and who scarcely ever busied themselves about the county elections.

      Baron Eötvös was the leader of a third party. He was imbued with the levelling tendencies of French liberalism. The men of Eötvös's school admired the theoretical perfection of Centralisation, and vied with the Vienna party in their aversion to the county institutions, with their assemblies and elections. But the Austrian Camarilla wished to establish the so-called "Paternal Absolutism" in the place of the county institutions; while the Eötvös party dreamed of a free parliamentary government. His party considered Hungary as a "tabula rasa," and they endeavoured, in defiance of history, to raise a new political fabric; not on the ground of written law, but on the treacherous soil of the law of nature. It was chiefly composed of young men of letters, who, full of spirit and ability, were but too prone to discover the weak and faulty parts of the county government, while they were unable to appreciate its practical soundness and its salutary influence. This circumstance caused them to withdraw from the elections, and to look down upon the struggles and contests of parliamentary life. Their doctrines could not, therefore, have any influence. To obtain a license for printing and publishing a newspaper was extremely difficult. Nevertheless, the Eötvös party had got possession of a newspaper. Their leaders, though spirited and witty, failed in bringing their ideas of centralisation home to the minds of their readers. The national instincts of the Hungarian people were opposed to such notions. But so convinced was Baron Eötvös of their truth and justness, that he resolved to publish them and make them popular, at any hazard. He wrote a novel, in which he put together a variety of small sketches and studies from nature, and formed them into one grand picture, for the express purpose of caricaturing the political doings in our counties. But, fortunately for the public, Baron Eötvös was a better poet than a politician, and his political pamphlet ripened, very much against his will, into one of the most interesting works of fiction that the Hungarian literature can boast of. His book was eagerly read and enthusiastically admired, it was devoid of all political action. Baron Eötvös missed the object at which he aimed; but he carried off a higher prize. Instead of popularising his ideas, he popularised himself, and the poet atoned for the sins of the politician. Nor was this difficult. Baron Eötvös was a thoroughly romantic character. He was more than the hero of a novel: his adventures and his fortunes made him a real hero. His years, though few, had been full of strange vicissitudes, and his life, from the cradle to his mature age, was one uninterrupted chain of strange and untoward events.

      The grandfather of Joseph Eötvös was a Hungarian government officer of high rank; his grandmother was a passionate woman, and a furious Magyar. She was therefore greatly incensed at her son (the poet's father) marrying a foreigner, viz., the Baroness Lilien, especially as the young lady had been so utterly neglected as to be ignorant of the Hungarian language. Often did the old lady vent her feelings on this point in the presence of the Baron Lilien, and emphatic were her protests that the German woman would remain childless—a prediction which it may be supposed was not at all calculated to gratify the baron. But when it became apparent that the family of Eötvös was not likely to become extinct, she changed her tactics by protesting, with the utmost boldness, that a German woman could not, by any chance, give birth to a boy, and that the family of Eötvös would become extinct in default of male issue. Baron Lilien put in a demurrer, and at length laid her a wager of one hundred ducats in favour of his daughter giving birth to a boy. The wager was duly accepted by the baroness, who lost it, and paid the amount, saying: "It's a boy after all, but he will turn out to be a German and stupid. I'll never see him, for I'll never prize him at a hundred ducats!" But the young Baron, Joseph Eötvös, lived to defeat all his grandmother's prophecies. She did indeed remain true to her word, for she never cared for him, and devoted all her tenderness to his younger brother; in her will she cut him off with an old piece of household furniture, which, after all, was taken from him, and given to a distant relative, by virtue of a codicil; but the German grandfather made up for the grandmother's harshness.

      Young Joseph's earlier years fell in that period of apathy which weighed down upon Europe after the feverish excitement of the French wars. Constitutionalism and nationality were sneered down as idle and reprehensible things. Hungary, too, partook of the lethargy of Europe; and the government, which alone was on the alert, made sundry successful attempts to wrest from us part of our old historical rights. The borough elections and the meetings of the counties were interfered with; pains were taken to extend the iron net of Austrian bureaucracy over Hungary; and, in 1823, it was thought that all power of resistance had left us. It was thought that the Hungarian Constitution was breaking up, and ready to be buried in the same grave with the Constitutions of Spain and Italy. The Cabinet of Vienna ventured to strike the last blow. Without consulting the parliament, they raised the taxes, and decreed a larger levy of recruits. These two points, if carried, abolished our Constitution, and crowned the endeavours of the House of Hapsburg-Lorraine. Great hopes of success were entertained at Vienna: the love of our ancient constitution had seemingly become extinct in Hungary; the German language had of late come to be the fashionable idiom at Pesth; and several of the most powerful magnates were willing to assist in completing the ruin of their country. The men at Vienna knew, indeed, that all the counties would demur to the decrees of the Hungarian Chancery, especially since the Chancellor, Prince Kohary, had entered his protest against the intended violation of the Hungarian Constitution. But the Cabinet of Vienna were resolved to execute their plan; and, if all other means failed, to force the Hungarians into submission. Commissioners with unlimited powers were sent to the refractory counties. These men were instructed to coerce the county meetings by means of the military force. Baron Ignaz Eötvös (the poet's grandfather) was appointed commissioner. He accepted the office. His wife disapproved of the course he had taken, and left his house. The Vienna Cabinet were at length forced to yield to the obstinate resistance of the counties. They revoked their illegal decrees, and the convocation of a parliament was declared to be at hand. But the public voice spoke loud against the commissioners. The Count Illyeshazy became the most popular of all the magnates, because he had declined to accept the post of a commissioner, while those who had consented to act as the tools of oppression were scorned and insulted by the multitude.

      Young Joseph Eötvös, was, of course, profoundly ignorant of these events. Pampered by his grandfather, and idolised by his mother, he passed that period of bitter reality amidst all the bright dreams of happy childhood. He was, indeed, informed of the honours and dignities which the emperor had been most graciously pleased to confer upon his father and grandfather; but he knew nothing of the curses of the people; he knew nothing of the contempt with which his family name was pronounced by the Hungarians. But the time was at hand for him to learn it all, and feel it too. Young Eötvös was sent to a public school.

His father, an able diplomatist, had hitherto placed the boy under the care of a tutor, Mr. Pruzsinsky. This gentleman was a staunch republican. In his earlier years he was a party to the conspiracy of Bishop Martinovich, the friend of Hajnotzy.[1] Pruzsinsky, with no less than thirty of his associates, had been sentenced to capital punishment. They were compelled to witness the execution of five of their friends. At the same time, they were informed that their punishment had been commuted into imprisonment for life. Hajnotzy, on his way to the scaffold, entreated Pruzsinsky to protect his only sister, whom his death would deprive of her last friend. Pruzsinsky promised to fulfil the last request of the dying man; but it was long before he could redeem his pledge. During eight years he was confined in several Austrian prisons. When the French armies invaded the country, the state prisoners were taken from the Kuffstein to the Spielberg, from the Spielberg to Olmütz, and from Olmütz to Munkatsh; and everywhere they met with that barbarous treatment which, at a later period, has been so faithfully recorded by Silvio Pellico. After eight years of imprisonment, Pruzsinsky was at length released; and, after ascertaining the residence of Hajnotzy's sister, he informed her of the promise he had given to her brother; adding, that his poverty allowed him no other means of protecting her than by offering her his hand. The poor girl, who at that time was reduced to severe distress, joyfully accepted the proposal. They were married. Pruzsinsky lived in the greatest happiness with his wife, whose love and devotion made ample amends for his past sufferings. But this blissful