style="font-size:15px;"> Such was the person to whom Mr. Thomas Shaskay was bound by the ties of a cordial and mutual dislike. The two men seemed to be created for the express purpose of hating one another. Shaskay was a small and spare man; his face reminded one of an old crumpled-up letter, his hair was scant, his nose sharp and long, and his narrow forehead covered with a thousand wrinkles. Karvay's huge bulk, mottled face, and curly black hair, were in bodily opposition to this frail piece of humanity. Candour was Mr. Karvay's characteristic feature; indeed, there were people in the county of Takshony who protested that the gallant captain would be more amiable if he were less candid. Now Shaskay was the closest man breathing. He answered reluctantly even to the simplest questions. Some of his friends protested that his closeness and secrecy were quite out of place, for that Nature, when she framed him, had treated him as druggists do their goods, and that "Poison" was as distinctly written on his face as it ever was on an arsenic bottle.
Shaskay had met with many misfortunes in the course of his life; but so great was his strength of mind that he was never known to allude to them, and least of all to his greatest misfortune, which, however, was mentioned in the records of the county. While he held the office of receiver-general of the district, sundry monies which were entrusted to his care disappeared; and though Mr. Shaskay protested that the money was stolen, and though the whole county believed him; nay, though no one had the least doubt that Shaskay (who said it) had seen the thief as he left the room, still the government, grossly violating the laws both of nature and of the country, dismissed the unfortunate receiver-general from his office. The county of Takshony made no less than thirteen petitions in his favour, but the worthy man could never succeed in regaining the office, of which he had discharged the duties to the unqualified satisfaction of the nobility, and from which he had not only derived no gains, but also sacrificed his own private property at cards. But so great is the virtue of a truly good man, that Mr. Shaskay, instead of joining (as might have been supposed) the opposition, remained faithful to his politics and his party, exerting the whole of his influence in behalf of the government, which had treated him so unjustly.
Mr. Rety, the sheriff, stands in the centre of his own hall. He is dressed in a blue attila with silver buttons, his boots are armed with silver spurs, and his Meerschaum pipe is embossed with silver. His thoughts were of the approaching election, and of the speech which he intended to address to the Cortes; but the brilliant phrase upon which he had just stumbled, was interrupted by a distant howling and bellowing, which became gradually more distinct.
"Eljen Rety! Eljen Skinner! Eljen the liberty of Hungary! Hujh rá!" and similar exclamations, with now and then a curse, and the report of a pistol, resounded through the village. And besides there was the wonderful burden of the song: —
"May the tulip flowers bloom for aye,
And Rety be our sheriff this day!"
which will do for any election, and which is remarkable for the ease with which it may be adapted to the case or the name of any candidate. And there was a van with a gipsy band performing the Rakotzi, and all the dogs of the village stood by and barked their welcome.
"This is indeed enthusiasm! this is indeed popularity!" said Karvay, stroking his moustache, and looking pleased; "by my soul it is a fine thing to be so much beloved! I am not rich, but I would give fifty florins any day to hear myself extolled in this manner."
"Ah! but I trust to goodness they won't burn any thing!" said one of the poor relations, whose reminiscences of the last election were not of an agreeable kind.
"Burn any thing! Terrem tette! of whom dost dare to speak?" roared Karvay. "Dost not know that thou speakest of noblemen? that St. Vilmosh has three hundred votes? The sheriff's house is insured, and if the worst were to come to the worst, and if all the village were burnt down, we ought to bless our stars that they have come to us instead of siding with the other party!"
"Karvay is right," said Rety to his trembling cousin; "How dare you speak disrespectfully of my guests? I know the gentlemen of St. Vilmosh."
"So do I!" roared Karvay, "every tenth man of my prisoners is from St. Vilmosh. Capital fellows they are! Your thief and murderer is a capital fellow in war, or at an election."
"There are some exceptions to that rule," interposed Shaskay. "In the insurrection of 1809, I understand the men of St. Vilmosh – "
It was lucky for Shaskay that the Cortes had by this time come to the gate, for Mr. Karvay was preparing to pay the ex-receiver-general in kind, by an allusion to sundry monies. His biting jokes on that tender topic were, however, cut short by the arrival of the whole noble mob in not less than thirty large vans. The vans in front and in the rear were ornamented with large yellow flags with suitable mottoes, such as
and mongrel rhymes in the following fashion: —
"To pay no taxes, to pay no toll;
To be exempt from the muster-roll;
To make the laws, and to live at we can,
Abusing the salt-prices:
This befits a nobleman."
Every nobleman had a green and yellow feather stuck in his hat or kalpac; these colours being emblematical of the hopes of their own party, and the envy of their adversaries, while they served the practical purpose of a badge of recognition.
The sheriff advanced, amidst violent cheering, to the front steps of the hall; the mob of noblemen shouting Halljuk11! formed a circle, and the notary of St. Vilmosh, stepping forward, addressed the patron in a speech of extraordinary pathos; in the course of which the words – Most revered, – Greece, – Rome, – Cicero, – patriotism, – singleness of purpose, – load star, – fragrant flowers, – forked tongues, pyramids, and steeple – were neither few nor far between, and which concluded with an assurance of the unbounded attachment of the constituency to the illustrious patriot he (the orator) had the supreme honour of addressing, and the quotation of "Si fractus illabetur orbis, impavidum ferient ruinæ," or to adopt the translation of the whipper-in of the Cortes: —
"May the tulip-flowers bloom for aye,
And Rety be our sheriff this day!"
This speech, but especially its conclusion, called forth a torrent of applause; and the enthusiasm reached its culminating point, when Mr. Rety, as usual, assured them that he was overwhelmed with confusion – that he was unprepared – that this was the happiest day of his life – that he had no ambition, but that it appeared his friends of St. Vilmosh commanded his services, and that he was always the man who —
The assurance that Mr. Rety was "always the man who" excited cheers of the most deafening magnitude from his audience; and after the whipper-in had informed the sheriff that but one thing was wanting to the happiness of the noble mob, and that this one thing was the permission to kiss Lady Rety's hand, the crowd uttered another frantic shout of Eljen! and rushed into the house.
A sumptuous repast awaited them in the sheriff's dining-room and in the barn. The former apartment was occupied by the élite of the company, while the lower precincts of the barn sheltered a less select, though by no means a less noble party. The élite feasted on four-and-twenty different kinds of sweetmeats, with Hungarian Champagne, Tokay, and ices; and the great mass of the Cortes filled their noble stomachs with Gulyash and Pörkölt, Tarhonya, cream-cakes, dumplings, roast meats, wine and brandy.
Etelka left the company immediately after dinner, while the Lady Rety conversed with some of the rising assessors and clergymen of the district. The gentlemen smoked their pipes in the hall, and in front of the house; and if the notary of St. Vilmosh was not among their number,
Hear! hear!
