OTHER TIMES--OTHER MEN.
Great men are the greatest of all dangers to little States. There are
men born to be great generals who die as robber-chiefs. If Michael
Teleki had sat at the head of a great kingdom, his name perchance would
have ranked with that of Richelieu, and that kingdom would have been
proud of the years during which he governed it. It was his curse that
Transylvania was too small for his genius, but it was also the curse of
Transylvania that he was greater than he ought to have been.
The Battle of St. Gothard was a painful wound to Turkish glory, and it
left behind it a constant longing for revenge, though a ten-years' peace
had actually been concluded; and presently a more favourable opportunity
than the prognostications of the Ulemas or the wisdom of the Lords of
Transylvania anticipated presented itself, an opportunity far too
favourable to be neglected.
Treaty obligations had compelled the Kaiser to take part in the War of
the Spanish Succession against Louis XIV., and the Kaiser's enemies at
once saw that the time for raising their standards against him had
arrived. The war was to begin from Transylvania, and the reward dangled
before the Prince of Transylvania for his participation in this war was
what his ancestors had often but vainly attempted to gain in the same
way--the Kingdom of Hungary.
It was, of course, a dangerous game to risk one kingdom in order to gain
another, for both might be sacrificed. There was even a party in
Transylvania itself which was indisposed to risk the little Principality
for the sake of the larger kingdom, and though the most powerful arm of
this party, Dionysius Banfy, had been cut off, it still had two powerful
heads in Paul Beldi and Nicholas Bethlen.
So one fine day at the Diet assembled at Fogaras, the Prince's guard
suddenly surrounded the quarters of Paul Beldi and Nicholas Bethlen, and
informed those gentlemen that they were State prisoners.
What had they done? What crime had they committed that they should be
arrested so unceremoniously?
Good Michael Apafi believed that they were aiming at the princely
coronet. This was a crime he was ready to believe in at a single word,
and he urged the counsellors who had ordered the arrest at once to put
the law into execution against the arrestants. But that is what these
gentlemen took very good care not to do. It was much easier to kill the
arrestants outright than to find a law which would meet their case.
In those days worthy Master Cserei was the commandant of the fortress of
Fogaras, and the castle in which the arrestants were lodged was the
property of the Princess. As soon as Anna heard of the arrest she
summoned Cserei, and showing him the signet-ring on her finger, said to
him: "Look at that ring, and whatever death-warrant reaches you, if it
bears not the impression of that seal, you will take care not to execute
the prisoners; the castle is mine, so you have to obey my orders rather
than the orders of the Prince."
The Prince and his wife then returned together to Fejervar. On the day
after their arrival the chief men of the realm met together in council
at the Prince's palace, and it was Teleki's idea that only those should
remain to dinner who were of the same views as himself. So they all
remained at the Prince's till late in the evening, and thoroughly
enjoyed the merry jests of the court buffoon, Gregory Biro, who knew no
end of delightful tricks, and swallowed spoons and forks so dextrously
that nobody could make out what had become of them.
Apafi had not noticed how much he had drunk, for every time he had
filled his beaker from the flagon standing beside him, the flagon itself
had been replenished, so that he fancied he had drunk nothing from sheer
forgetfulness. But his face had got more inflamed and bloodshot than
usual, and suddenly perceiving that the chair next to his was empty, he
exclaimed furiously: "Who else has bolted? It is Denis Banfy who has
bolted now, I know it is. What has become of Denis Banfy, I say?"
The gentlemen were all silent; only Teleki was able to reply:
"Denis Banfy is dead."
"Dead?" inquired Apafi, "how did he die?"
"Paul Beldi formed a league against him and he was beheaded."
"Beldi?" cried Apafi, rising from his seat in blind rage, "and where is
that man?"
"He is in a dungeon at present, but it will not be long before he sits
on the throne of the Prince."
"On the scaffold, you mean!" thundered Apafi, beside himself, in a
bloodthirsty voice, "on the scaffold, not the throne. I'll show that
crafty Szekler who I am if he raises his head against me. Call hither
the protonotarius, the law must be enforced."
"The sentences are now ready, sir," said Nalaczi, drawing from his
pocket three documents of equal size; "only your signature is required."
He was also speedily provided with ink and a pen, which they thrust into
the trembling hand of the Prince, indicating to him at the same time the
place on the document where he was to sign his name. The thing was done.
"Is there any stranger among us?" asked Teleki, looking suspiciously
around.
"Only the fool, but he doesn't count."
The fool at that moment was making a sword dance on the tip of his nose,
and on the sword he had put a plate, and he kept calling on the
gentlemen to look at him--he certainly had paid no attention to what was
going on at the table.
The three letters were three several commands. The first was directed to
Cserei, telling him to put the prisoners to death at once; the second
was to the provost-marshal, Zsigmond Boer, to the effect that if Cserei
showed any signs of hesitation he was to be killed together with the
gentlemen; the third was to the garrison of the fortress, impressing
upon them in case of any hesitation on the part of the provost to make
an end of him forthwith along with the others. All three letters, sealed
with yellow wax, were handed over to Stephen Nalaczi, who, placing them
in his kalpag, pressed his kalpag down upon his head and hastened
quickly from the room. He had to pass close to the jester on his way
out, and the fool, rushing upon him, exclaimed. "O ho! you have got on
my kalpag; off with it, this is yours!" and before Nalaczi had recovered
from his surprise he found a cap and bells on his head instead of a
kalpag.
The magnate considered this jest highly indecent, and seized the jester
by the throat.
"You scoundrel, you, where have you put my kalpag? Speak, or I'll
throttle you."
"Don't throttle me, sir," said the jester apologetically, "for then you
would be the biggest fool at the court of the Prince."
"My kalpag!" cried Nalaczi furiously, "where have you put it?"
"I have swallowed it, sir."
"You worthless rascal," roared Nalaczi, throttling the jester, "would
you play your pranks with me!"
"Truly, sir, I shall not be able to bring it up again if you press my
throat like that."
"Stop, I mean to search you," said Nalaczi; and he began to tear up the
coat of the jester, whereupon the kalpag came tumbling out from between
its folds. "You clumsy charlatan," laughed Nalaczi, "well, you hid it
very well, I must say." Then he put on his kalpag again, in which were
all three letters well sealed with yellow wax, but he now hastened
outside as rapidly as possible in case the fool should spirit them away
again.
The same night he galloped to Fogaras, though it cost him his horse to
get there, summoned Cserei, and giving him the letter addressed to him
said:
"You, sir, are to execute this strict command to the very letter."
The commandant took the letter, broke the seal, and then looked at the
magnate in amazement:
"I know not, sir, whether you or I have been made a fool of--but there's
not a scrap of writing in this letter."
Nalaczi incredulously examined the letter. It was a perfect blank.
Hastily he broke open the other two letters. In these also there was
nothing but the bare paper.
The fool, while the nobleman was throttling him, had substituted blanks
for the letters sent, and sent the sentences the same evening to the
Princess, who thereby had discovered all that the Prince and his
councillors were doing.
In the morning the Princess went to Apafi with the three sentences in
her hand, and reproached him for wanting to murder his ministers.
The worthy Prince was amazed at seeing these orders signed by himself.
He knew nothing about it, and embracing his wife, thanked her for
watching over him and not allowing him to send forth such orders. As for
Nalaczi, the shame of the thing made it impossible for him to show
himself at Court, and he could only nourish a grudge against the fool.
This accident greatly upset the worthy Prince, and he immediately rushed
to release the captives. First of all, however, they had to sign deeds
in which they solemnly engaged not to seek to revenge themselves on
their accusers.
Paul Beldi was wounded to the heart, but he regarded this calamity as a
just retribution for having been the first to sign the league[18]
against Denis Banfy; it was a weapon which now recoiled upon himself.
[Footnote 18: See "'Midst the Wild Carpathians," Book
II., Chapter VII.]
But this private grief was the least of his misfortunes, for while Paul
Beldi and Nicholas Bethlen had been sitting in their dungeon the war
party had had a free hand, so that when the two gentlemen were released
they were astounded to learn from their partisans that only the sanction
of the Divan was now necessary for a rupture of the peace.
Beldi perceived that to remain silent any longer would be equivalent to
looking on while the State rushed to its destruction. He immediately
assembled all those who were of the same opinion as himself--Ladislaus
Csaky, John Haller, George Kapy--and consulted with them as to the
future of the realm.
Beldi opined throughout that the Prince should be spared, but he was to
be compelled to dismiss such councillors as Teleki, Szekely, Mikes, and
Nalaczi, and form a new council of state. Kapy would have done more than
this. "If we want as much as that," said he, "it would be better to
declare ourselves openly; and if we draw the sword, we shall have no
need to petition, but can fight, and whoever wins let him profit by it
and become Prince."
"No!" said Beldi, "I have sworn allegiance to the Prince, and though I
love my country, and am prepared to fight for it, yet I will never break
my oath. My proposition is that we assemble in arms at the Diet which is
convened to meet at Nagy-Sink, together with the Szekler train-bands,
and if we show our strength the Prince assuredly will not hesitate to
change his counsellors, for I know him to be a good man who rather fears
than loves them."
The gentlemen present accepted Beldi's proposition.
"Then here I will leave your Excellencies," said Kapy, stiffly buttoning
his mente.[19] "I am not afraid of war, for there I see my enemy before
me, and can fight him; but I do not like these armed appeals, for they
are apt to twist a man's sword from his hand and turn it against his own
neck."
[Footnote 19: Fur pelisse.]
And he withdrew. The other gentlemen resolved, however, that they would
all arm their retainers. At a word from Beldi the armed Szeklers of
Haromszek, Csik, and Udvarhelyszek rose at once; they were ready at an
hour's notice to rise in obedience to the command of their
generalissimo.
The news of this audacious insurrection reached Michael Teleki at
Gernyeszeg, who was beside himself with joy, well aware that Beldi was
not the sort of man who was likely to prevail in a civil war whilst the
contrary case would bring about his ruin, as he had now gone too far to
draw back again. He immediately hastened to the Prince and, arousing him
from his bed, told him that Beldi had risen against him, and so
terrified Apafi that he immediately got into his coach, and fled by
torchlight to Fogaras. Gregory Bethlen, Farkas, and the other
counsellors also took to their heels in a panic--only Teleki remained
cool. He knew the character of Beldi too well to be afraid of him.
So the spark of ambition and rage was kindled in Paul Beldi's heart, and
for some days it looked as if he would be the master of Transylvania,
for nothing could resist him with the Szekler bands at his side, and all
the regular troops were scattered among the frontier fortresses.
But Beldi thought it enough to show his weapons without letting them be
felt. Instead of a declaration of war he sent a manifesto full of
loyalty to the Prince, in which he assured his Highness that he had
taken up arms not against his Highness but in the name of the state; all
he demanded was that the counsellors of the Prince should be tried by
the laws of the realm.
Whilst this wild missive was on its way, Teleki had had time to call
together the troops from the frontier fortresses, and send orders to
those of the Szeklers who had not risen to assemble under Clement Mikes
in defence of the Prince; and while Beldi awaited an attack, he
proceeded to take the offensive against him at once.
One day Beldi was sitting in the castle of Bodola along with Ladislaus
Csaky, when news was brought them that Gregory Bethlen, with the army of
the Prince, was already before Kronstadt.
"War can no longer be avoided," sighed Csaky.
"We can avoid it if we lay down our arms," returned Beldi.
"Surely you do not think of that?" inquired Csaky in alarm.
"Why should I not? I will take no part in a civil war."
"Then we are lost."
"Rather we shall save thousands."
The same day he ordered his forces to disperse and return home.
The next day Gregory Bethlen sent Michael Vay to Bodola, who brought
with him the Prince's pardon.
Csaky ground his teeth together. It occurred to him that he had got
Denis Banfy beheaded, yet he too had received a pardon, and he inquired
of Vay in some alarm: "Can we really rely on this letter of pardon?"
Michael Vay was candid enough to reply: "Well, my dear brethren, though
you had a hundred pardons it would be as well if you courageously
resolved to quit Transylvania notwithstanding."
Csaky gave not another moment's thought to the matter, but packed up
his trunks, and while it was still daylight escaped through the Bozza
Pass.
Beldi decided to remain; shame prevented him from flying.
Nevertheless, Michael Vay told his wife and children of his danger and
they insisted, supplicating him on their knees, that he should hasten
away and save himself.
"And what about you?" asked Beldi, looking at his tearful family.
He had two handsome sons, and his daughter Aranka had grown up a lovely
damsel; she was the apple of her father's eye, his pride and his glory.
"What about you?" he asked with a troubled voice.
"You can more easily defend us at Stambul than here," said Dame Beldi;
and Beldi saw that that was a word spoken in season.
That word changed his resolve, for, indeed, by seeking a refuge at the
Porte, he would be able to help himself and his family much more, and
perhaps even give a better turn to the fortunes of his country. There,
too, many of the highest viziers were his friends who had very great
influence in affairs.
He immediately had his horse saddled, and after taking leave of his
family with the utmost confidence, he escaped through the Bozza Pass the
same night with an escort of a few chosen servants into Wallachia, where
he found many other fugitive colleagues, and with them he took refuge at
the Porte--then the highest court of appeal for Transylvania.