The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1879-03-29 00:00:00

THE LAST DAYS OF SZEGEDIN.

Under date March 15, the Daily News of Monday (24th)
publishes the following interesting letter from their Special
Correspondent at Szegedin

" The mighty waters have done their worst, and
Szegedin now exists but in name. As you will know
by telegrams already forwarded to London, we have
been up to last Tuesday night struggling with every
available means to keep out the sea of waters which
had threatened the town for many days, but, alas! to
no purpose, for a great storm arose on that fatal night
and baffled all our efforts.

" To give a better idea of our situation I will go
back to the time when I first arrived in the town
—that is, on Monday morning last. In order to
reach the town of Szegedin we had to row for
about six miles in small boats which we had
brought from Pesth. On our way we passed one
town called Dorozma and several villages already
many feet deep in water. The houses were nearly all
in ruins, only the broken roofs sticking out above the
water. We approached one large root, rather higher
than the rest, in order to see if any people were
there alive ; but not a soul was to be found, the only
living creatures being a large white cat and a number
ef cocks and hens. I wanted much to take the cat off,
she cried so piteously; but we dared not go too near,
knowing that the whole building might fall in at any
moment; and it was lucky we did not, for we had
hardly turned the head of the boat before crash, crash,
and the remains of the building had disappeared. We
then proceeded further on, passing ruins of houses,
farms, &c., with quantities of hay, straw, furniture,
doors, and window frames floating about. Of aourse we
were all anxiety to reach Szegedin, and the uncertain
state of affairs made us hurry on in the direction of a
collection of church spires and roofs which seemed to
grow out of the sea of waters. After hard rowing we
perceived in the distance a long line, of some three or
four miles in extent, which at first had the appearance
of a great sea snake stretched out on the waters and
covered with a mass of moving creatures, and behind
this were visible the spires and roofs of a large town.
We came nearer and nearer, and the sea snake
gradually turned into a long dyke of black earth, on
which thousands of people were busy with spade,
shovel, and wheelbarrow. Our boat was the first to
touch ground, and we got out with light steps, fear-
ing to displace an atom of earth which had beeu
piled up in such a good cause. And well we might
tread softly, for on mounting the dyke we found there
was a fall of from fifteen to twenty feet on the other
side, and our first thought was, how was it possible
to keep back such a sea of waters with this narrow
strip of earth? It is true that the foundation of this
was a strong railway embankment, but the top of the
latter was already some five feet under the level of
the floods, to keep out which a second and naturally
far weaker dyke had been constructed. It was on this
that the industrious inhabitants of Szegedin had been
at work for days and nights.
"Touching sights were to be met with there.
Women were bringing up earth in their market
baskets or their aprons. Even little children pos-
sessed themselves of their fathers' hats, which
they filled with their little hands, and toddled
up the steep incline with their heavy burden. The
order which was maintained was really wonderful.
There was no pushing or shoving, crying, or noise of
any sort amongst the thousands of busy hands; men,
women, and children were all alike bent on one object.
Of course it was not necessary to make any inquiries.
We saw at a glance how matters stood. The waters
wanted but a few inches rise and all would be over.
We heard that for the previous twenty-four hours
the water had remained the same; so after a
thorough inspection of the dam and a few words with
the officer commanding the troops at work a few hun-
dred yards further down, we made our way to the Town- I
hall, where we were received with open arms, having
brought down boats with us from Pesth to render any
assistance that might be required. About ten o'clock
on the night after our arrival we went out again
to the dyke, where busy hands were still at work
by torchlight. It was, indeed, an interesting sight,
the flaring torches lighting up the waters, which
I were disturbed and wavy from the prevailing
winds, the long ends of white piles which had been
driven in the dyke to keep the loose earth together, and
the earnest faces of the workers, who knew that their
I efforts alone were preserving a whole town from de-
struction. On retiring to rest we agreed to meet in the
I morning and plan an expedition up the river Theiss,
I to render help to any flooded villages or hamlets which
we might come across. I must now mention a fact
which played a most important part in the events
which followed. A Hungarian gentleman, Mr. Gerster
by name, one of the directors of the Francis Canal
Steam Towage Company, which is worked entirely by
English capital, had the foresightsome days previously
to order one of their large steam tugs, the Csongrad,
to proceed to Szegedin immediately. The steamer
was commanded by Captain Hadzoy, of whom I
will speak later, as through his and Mr. Gerster's
almost superhuman exertions over one thousand
lives were saved. Well, as the expedition we pro-
posed could only be accomplished by aid of a steamer,
we asked Mr. Gerster's help which was given at once,
and at six o'clock on the following morning we got on
board the steamship Csongrad, and proceeded up the
river at a good pace. About a mile up the river we
passed the end of the town, and at once steamed into
a vast expanse of water, with no land in view except
the remains here and there of the river dam on our
left side. Steaming on for nearly two hours we arrived
at what was once the flourishing and industrious
village of Tape, with its two thousand five
hundred inhabitants. We arriged there to find the
place entirely destroyed—nothing was standing but
the church. The river embankment in front
of the village was high and about sixty to
eighty yards broad, on this were collected moat of the
inhabitants, while the rest were on some half-dozen
barges moored to the dyke lower down. The sight
was piteous in the extreme. Every inch of the dyke
was occupied; some people were even standing half in
the water. There were weeping mothers trying to
quiet the babes on their breasts, children of all ages
sobbing their little hearts out ' • side people placed
carefully on table's, so as to be out of the reach of the
waters ; and all imaginable household goods and
chattels stacked and stocked in high heaps, which
every instant threatened to topple over into the waters,
which were already bearing away the last remnants of
many a happy home.
"I went myself on board one of the barges, which
was full of the aged and sick. Some poor creatures
held up their hands to me in despair, entreating for a
'Attie food; these poor people had been existing for
days on stale bread and Indian corn. We took them
some fresh food from our steamer; we dared not take
them on board, for we had to go some way yet up the
river, where it was reported that four hundred work-
men, who had been working on a dam, were in great
danger, the dam having burst further down, and they
were cut off from all communication. So after giving
the poor people the best comfort we could, with a little
food and a promise to fetch them on the morrow,
we left. What has become of those people now I
know not. We little knew what the morrow would
bring forth. We passed the remains of several
villages all in the same state. Once I saw a large
building sticking out of the waters many miles to the
left. This turned out to be the castle of Count Palle-
vicini, who has over 170,000 acres of land along the
Theiss. He has two fine chateaux here both under
water. At last we reached the dam, where the un-
fortunates were collected there huddled up together
—men, spades, shovels, and wheelbarrows. It was
quite a pleasur e to see their faces light up with
gladness and joy at being brought off at last.
They little knew that it was in reality "out of
the frying-pan into the fire." But so it was. We
had saved them for the day; how many are now
surviving God alone knows. We brought the
poor fellows on board by boatfulls, which took some
time, as there were over 400. At last our task VMS
over, and the setting sun warned us to be starting for
home at full speed. That sunset I shall never forget,
The sun went down into those cruel waters just as at sea;
the red reflection on the waters, spotted here and
there by the ruins of some distant hamlet or farm-
house, made the scene sad indeed, and one that
never will be effaced from my memory. The evening
was lovely, but terrible in its loveliness; the wind had
died down only to renew its force doubly a few hours
later. We again passed the ruined villages, the dykes,
thebillocks, all crowded with their living freight—all,
all told the same sad tale.
"It was dark when we got back to the town, and the
wind was blowing pretty hard, We made our way to
a restaurant for supper, and it was nearly ten before
our meal was done. Some officers who had been out
on the dyke all day were sitting at our table, and
we had scarcely finished before a soldier came run-
ning in, and, saluting his officer, he informed him
that the report was all over the town that the waters
had broken in. We all started up from our chairs and
made immediately for the street. We first went to
the Town Hall. On our way we passed numbers
of fugitives evidently flying from the lower part of the
town. Arriving at the Town Hall, we found great
excitement prevailing, and a company of soldiers at
the entrance trying to keep the people back. In the
neighbouring streets might be heard, during the lulls
in the great storm which was raging, the lamentations
of the fugitives as they dragged their heavy burdens
along the ill-paved streets.
" Seeing it would be useless to attempt an entrance
in the Town-hall, I turned my steps down a very long
street which led towards the Alfeld dyke where we
first landed. The storm was increasing, and a great
gust of wind laden with dust came down the street
almost blinding me. I had a good mile and a half to
cover before I could reach the dam, but on my way
I met an officer coming straight from the dyke; be
told me that ie was a false alarm, the waters had
not broken threugh, but if the storm continued they
woeld not be able to hold out till morning. The
wind wee blowing straight on the dyke, and with such
force that the waves splashed over in many places.
Torches were blown out and the men had to vvork
in darkness. It was indeed a terrible suspense. I
believe that through this false report many people
were drowned inter, for I myself saw several return-
ing to their homes. and when a few hours after the
water slid break in, many families stuck to their
homes until it was too late. Being dead tired I went

back to my hotel, and cast myself upon a couch and
fell into a deep slumber. I started up. A great bell
was tolling, when, bang! bang! bang !three successive
cannon shots, I then knew that all was over. The
cruel wind was rattling the windows of my room. I
struck a light, which the draught from the window
nearly blew out. Hurrying down into the street, I
found it full with people flying in the direction
of the river dyke, which was high and strong.
The storm, the darkness, and the cries and
lamentations of thousands combined, were awful.
I rushed in the direction of the town-hall; the gas had
gone out suddenly when I first awoke, so that I made
my way with great difficulty. About two-thirds of
the way I was met by the oncoming waters; which
were then pouring into the town pretty fast. I turned
and fled as fast as my legs could carry me towards the
river dyke, where already thousands were assembled.
There was hardly standing room. I pushed through
the crowd with great difficulty, and managed to reach
the steamer Csongrad. I found that the captain and
some of his men, accompanied by Mr. Gerster with two
boats, were already at work in the town saving life.
In spite of the rushing waters and falling houses
they went in that terrible darkness to the most
dangerous spots, and took off the unfortunate
people from trees, houses, and even lamp-posts.
They brought back boatful after boatful to the
steamer until the deck was crowded. I then made
my way or rather waded to the telegraph office, which
stood pretty high, and after writing a despatch I
came downstairs, but alas, the waters had risen, and
I could not reach the steamer. But luck forsook me
not. While standing on the steps, with the water
washing over my feet, a country cart passed the door,
with the poor horses doing their best to keep their
noses out of the water. I hailed the driver, and offered
him a good ' backsheeh ' to transport me to some less
wet spot; this he did, and by good luck dropped me
at the Hotel Hungaria, where lam staying. This and
some half dozen neighbouring houses are the only ones
out of water; and by walking through some ten or
twelve inches of water, one can reach the river
dyke, and BO I could communicate with the steamer
Csongrad and my gallant friends there, I was again
on the dyke, and amongst thousands and thousands of
refugees, many of whom could see their houses and all
they possessed vanish before their eyes. The sight was
heartrending—crash, crash, crash! How the houses
fall! The waters seemed to saw the foundations from
under them. One moment I saw a house, with its
inmates gathered on the roof, and in the loft women
looking out of every available hole in the wooden tiles,
holding their children to be saved, when there came a
rumbling noise and crash, and the whole building,
with its living freight, was gone. In the space of two
minutes I saw six houses disappear. This terrible
destruction continued all day, and the misery of the
next night of darkness and storm was beyond all
description. I calculate that there were over 40,000
people collected on the river dyke, while the rest were
flying over the bridge of boats and the railway bridge
towards New Szegedin, which was still out of water.
During the last two nights the cold had been
intense, 10 degrees of frost; ice floating about the
streets. The suffering of the poor people on the
dyke has been terrible; infants have been frozen
to death on their mothers breasts. Even on board
the steamer Csongrad seven children have died,
and their bodies have been put in the coal-hole
for want of room. I saw one poor woman in the
engine-room who had six children; five were drowned
before her eyes, the other she pulled out of the water,
but it has now died from the effects of exposure. We
have been very short of food, but, thank God, to-day
about 15,000 loaves arrived, and yesterday 10,000. A
great number of the refugees have been got off, partly
over to New Szegedin, and partly on a railway bridge,
and from thence to Temesvar. lam myself so tired
that I must now close, and will forward you this on
the earliest opportunity; the delay will be great, as
there is no post."