



Produced by Al Haines








  SAVROLA

  A TALE OF THE REVOLUTION IN LAURANIA



  BY

  WINSTON SPENCER CHURCHILL

  AUTHOR OF "THE RIVER WAR: AN ACCOUNT OF THE RECOVERY
  OF THE SOUDAN" AND "THE STORY OF THE MALAKAND
  FIELD FORCE"



  LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
  91 AND 93 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK
  LONDON AND BOMBAY
  1900




  COPYRIGHT, 1899, BY
  LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED



  TYPOGRAPHY BY J. B. CUSHING & CO., NORWOOD, MASS.




  THIS BOOK IS INSCRIBED
  TO
  THE OFFICERS
  OF THE
  IVTH (QUEEN'S OWN) HUSSARS
  IN WHOSE COMPANY THE AUTHOR LIVED
  FOR FOUR HAPPY YEARS




PREFATORY NOTE

This story was written in 1897, and has already appeared in serial form
in _Macmillan's Magazine_.  Since its first reception was not
unfriendly, I resolved to publish it as a book, and I now submit it
with considerable trepidation to the judgment or clemency of the public.

WINSTON S. CHURCHILL.




  CONTENTS

  I.  An Event of Political Importance
  II.  The Head of the State
  III.  The Man of the Multitude
  IV.  The Deputation
  V.  A Private Conversation
  VI.  On Constitutional Grounds
  VII.  The State Ball
  VIII.  "In the Starlight"
  IX.  The Admiral
  X.  The Wand of the Magician
  XI.  In the Watches of the Night
  XII.  A Council of War
  XIII.  The Action of the Executive
  XIV.  The Loyalty of the Army
  XV.  Surprises
  XVI.  The Progress of the Revolt
  XVII.  The Defence of the Palace
  XVIII.  From a Window
  XIX.  An Educational Experience
  XX.  The End of the Quarrel
  XXI.  The Return of the Fleet
  XXII.  Life's Compensations




CHAPTER I.

AN EVENT OF POLITICAL IMPORTANCE.

There had been a heavy shower of rain, but the sun was already shining
through the breaks in the clouds and throwing swiftly changing shadows
on the streets, the houses, and the gardens of the city of Laurania.
Everything shone wetly in the sunlight: the dust had been laid; the air
was cool; the trees looked green and grateful.  It was the first rain
after the summer heats, and it marked the beginning of that delightful
autumn climate which has made the Lauranian capital the home of the
artist, the invalid, and the sybarite.

The shower had been heavy, but it had not dispersed the crowds that
were gathered in the great square in front of the Parliament House.  It
was welcome, but it had not altered their anxious and angry looks; it
had drenched them without cooling their excitement.  Evidently an event
of consequence was taking place.  The fine building, where the
representatives of the people were wont to meet, wore an aspect of
sombre importance that the trophies and statues, with which an ancient
and an art-loving people had decorated its façade, did not dispel.  A
squadron of Lancers of the Republican Guard was drawn up at the foot of
the great steps, and a considerable body of infantry kept a broad space
clear in front of the entrance.  Behind the soldiers the people filled
in the rest of the picture.  They swarmed in the square and the streets
leading to it; they had scrambled on to the numerous monuments, which
the taste and pride of the Republic had raised to the memory of her
ancient heroes, covering them so completely that they looked like
mounds of human beings; even the trees contained their occupants, while
the windows and often the roofs, of the houses and offices which
overlooked the scene were crowded with spectators.  It was a great
multitude and it vibrated with excitement.  Wild passions surged across
the throng, as squalls sweep across a stormy sea.  Here and there a
man, mounting above his fellows, would harangue those whom his voice
could reach, and a cheer or a shout was caught up by thousands who had
never heard the words but were searching for something to give
expression to their feelings.

It was a great day in the history of Laurania.  For five long years
since the Civil War the people had endured the insult of autocratic
rule.  The fact that the Government was strong, and the memory of the
disorders of the past, had operated powerfully on the minds of the more
sober citizens.  But from the first there had been murmurs.  There were
many who had borne arms on the losing side in the long struggle that
had ended in the victory of President Antonio Molara.  Some had
suffered wounds or confiscation; others had undergone imprisonment;
many had lost friends and relations, who with their latest breath had
enjoined the uncompromising prosecution of the war.  The Government had
started with implacable enemies, and their rule had been harsh and
tyrannical.  The ancient constitution to which the citizens were so
strongly attached and of which they were so proud, had been subverted.
The President, alleging the prevalence of sedition, had declined to
invite the people to send their representatives to that chamber which
had for many centuries been regarded as the surest bulwark of popular
liberties.  Thus the discontents increased day by day and year by year:
the National party, which had at first consisted only of a few
survivors of the beaten side, had swelled into the most numerous and
powerful faction in the State; and at last they had found a leader.
The agitation proceeded on all sides.  The large and turbulent
population of the capital were thoroughly devoted to the rising cause.
Demonstration had followed demonstration; riot had succeeded riot; even
the army showed signs of unrest.  At length the President had decided
to make concessions.  It was announced that on the first of September
the electoral writs should be issued and the people should be accorded
an opportunity of expressing their wishes and opinions.

This pledge had contented the more peaceable citizens.  The extremists,
finding themselves in a minority, had altered their tone.  The
Government, taking advantage of the favourable moment, had arrested
several of the more violent leaders.  Others, who had fought in the war
and had returned from exile to take part in the revolt, fled for their
lives across the border.  A rigorous search for arms had resulted in
important captures.  European nations, watching with interested and
anxious eyes the political barometer, were convinced that the
Government cause was in the ascendant.  But meanwhile the people
waited, silent and expectant, for the fulfilment of the promise.

At length the day had come.  The necessary preparations for summoning
the seventy thousand male electors to record their votes had been
carried out by the public officials.  The President, as the custom
prescribed, was in person to sign the necessary writ of summons to the
faithful citizens.  Warrants for election would be forwarded to the
various electoral divisions in the city and the provinces, and those
who were by the ancient law entitled to the franchise would give their
verdict on the conduct of him whom the Populists in bitter hatred had
called the Dictator.

It was for this moment that the crowd was waiting.  Though cheers from
time to time arose, they waited for the most part in silence.  Even
when the President had passed on his way to the Senate, they had
foreborne to hoot; in their eyes he was virtually abdicating, and that
made amends for all.  The time-honoured observances, the long-loved
rights would be restored, and once more democratic government would be
triumphant in Laurania.

Suddenly, at the top of the steps in the full view of the people, a
young man appeared, his dress disordered and his face crimson with
excitement.  It was Moret, one of the Civic Council.  He was
immediately recognised by the populace, and a great cheer arose.  Many
who could not see him took up the shout, which re-echoed through the
square, the expression of a nation's satisfaction.  He gesticulated
vehemently, but his words, if he spoke at all, were lost in the tumult.
Another man, an usher, followed him out hurriedly, put his hand on his
shoulder, appeared to speak with earnestness, and drew him back into
the shadow of the entrance.  The crowd still cheered.

A third figure issued from the door, an old man in the robes of
municipal office.  He walked, or rather tottered feebly down the steps
to a carriage, which had drawn up to meet him.  Again there were
cheers.  "Godoy!  Godoy!  Bravo, Godoy!  Champion of the People!
Hurrah, hurrah!"

It was the Mayor, one of the strongest and most reputable members of
the party of Reform.  He entered his carriage and drove through the
open space, maintained by the soldiery, into the crowd, which, still
cheering, gave way with respect.

The carriage was open and it was evident that the old man was painfully
moved.  His face was pale, his mouth puckered into an expression of
grief and anger, his whole frame shaken with suppressed emotion.  The
crowd had greeted him with applause, but, quick to notice, were struck
by his altered appearance and woeful looks.  They crowded round the
carriage crying: "What has happened?  Is all well?  Speak, Godoy,
speak!"  But he would have none of them, and quivering with agitation
bade his coachman drive the faster.  The people gave way slowly,
sullenly, thoughtfully, as men who make momentous resolutions.
Something had happened, untoward, unforeseen, unwelcome; what this was,
they were anxious to know.

And then began a period of wild rumour.  The President had refused to
sign the writs; he had committed suicide; the troops had been ordered
to fire; the elections would not take place, after all; Savrola had
been arrested,--seized in the very Senate, said one, murdered added
another.  The noise of the multitude changed into a dull dissonant hum
of rising anger.

At last the answer came.  There was a house, overlooking the square,
which was separated from the Chamber of Representatives only by a
narrow street, and this street had been kept clear for traffic by the
troops.  On the balcony of this house the young man, Moret, the Civic
Councillor, now reappeared, and his coming was the signal for a storm
of wild, anxious cries from the vast concourse.  He held up his hand
for silence and after some moments his words became audible to those
nearest.  "You are betrayed--a cruel fraud--the hopes we had cherished
are dashed to the ground--all has been done in vain--  Cheated!
cheated! cheated!"  The broken fragments of his oratory reached far
into the mass of excited humanity, and then he