The Portland daily press., 1878-06-28
RakAcsy'S March.

The Paris correspondent of the New Orleans
PIcayune writes-Nothing at the Exposition is
so popular as the Hungarian gypsy musicians
who now daily play in the Hungarian building
called the Csarda (prouounced Ckarda, be.
lieve) which is 10 the Champ de Mars. There
are sixteen musicians. They may bs comp ared
to the negro miustrels, that is, they play the
music of race, "ths wood notes wild" of an
epoch when music was rather a tradition than
an art; but their music is neither the baffoou-
cry nor the sad strains of Africa it is music
of dancing, waltzing, hunting, war. Their
most famous work is Rakocsy's March, the
national air of Hungary. THIS march seems to
have been composed ia the eighteenth century
by some partisan of Rakocsy (the, ,Kossuth of
his day.; then it fell into oblivioa until Roszav-
olgy, gypsy, found it in some peasants hovel
(tbe pdga nd, who never forget anything y about
1920, when the spirit of states rights once
more animated the Hungarians. This march
raised the widest enthusiasm wherever it was
song of dear native land until 1S49 came, when
it was heard above the battles fiercest roar
1t comforted the wounded and the dying in
hours of defeat, it kent alive hope, until the
struggle against the OppressorS ended in q sea
of blood. Austrian and Russian were merci-
less. Rakocsy's march became reasonable.
Count Bathiany, one of the Hungarian minis
ters during the struggle, was arrested, tried by
court martial, and was sentenced to be hanged.
Count Bathiany's death (I translate from
French newspaper) was an epic. Sentenced to
be hanged, he was granted permission to have
a last interview with his wife. They were left
together alone that he might write and explain
his will to her. He had no fear of DEATH He
shrank from death by hanging like a common
felon. His wife understood him. She gave him
penknife, the only weapon she had been able
to introduce into prison. He cut the jugular
vein, but so awkwardly as to produce only
swooning, not death. The surgeon said it was
physically impossible to hang him in his con-
neck. He was fastened to a stake to support
him. He was shot The law provided that
the body of person executed should
remain four and twenty hours on the
spot where the laws extreme penalty had
been paid. During the. following night
Count Bathany's corpse disappeared. Hun
garian franciscan friars bribed the guords to
let them remove the body. They buried it in
their convent's garden that the patriot might
sleep in hallowed ground. There it remained
spilling one drop of blood in securing his coun-
tIy's independence, then noble state funeral,
at which all Hungary followed as mourners
made public acknowledgment of the debt his
county owed him. Hungaria gypses (they
had been the bands of the Hungarisn regi-
by giving concerts. One evening went to an
Hungarian concert in Germany. 1t was given
by the band of Kossuths regiment. The con.
cert room was crowded from the topmost tier
Of boxes to the pit; even in the passage people
stood on chairs placed as thickly as could be.
The band played Kossuth's March, which is to
Rakocsy's March as Ls Chant des Girondius is
to La Msrseillaise, All at once convulsivs
sobs were heard above the music In box a
woman in deep mourning, agitated by an emo
a. II. .al~, =
the anguish Of despair. Instantly the whole
audience were on their feet. Every face, all
eyes were turned to the box whence that dis
tressing wall came. Who was that woman?
Somebody recognized her. Her name was wbis-
pered from ear to ear. Everybody understood her
anguish-how the sight OF those exiled Hunga-
rians, how the melody of their music, recalled
happy bygone hours. her bleeding country, her
causes martyrs. She was Connt Bathiany 8
widow. That which then took place deies de-
scription. The audience had received, as 'twers,
the shock of some great electrical battery.
Pity-deep, inexpressible pity-took possession
of every soul, every heart. All eyes were sti
turned to that box All applauded-how
wildly! with what frenzy! Every woman
waved her handkerchief to that box. Lips
every cheek. Then the cry rose madly, i'm.
periously, "Rakocsy's March! Rakocsy's 3
Marchp' The Hungarian musicians, even
more excited than the audience, had seized
their Instruments and, giving the military sa-
lutte to their unhappy countrywomaD, they
began their native lands hymn. Electrified by
the public, frenzied by recollection of sl-home,
battles, hopes, martyrs, wrongs-they executed
Rakocsy's March as that march had never
been executed. They crushed their. bows, so
convulsively thrilled were their hands BY pas
sion; the strings walled under the wild pres
sure Rakocsy's March became the bowling
ties Of the conoaspor. Never in my life have
felt such poignant emotion as at that hour
filled my whole being. felt as all that audi
ence felt. Countess Bathiany was no widow
bereayed Of all she had dearest on earth-she
was Hungary, crushed bleeding, trampled
under foot by ruthless soldiery. saaa .ss