THE NEWLY-DRAWN SWORD.
The German armies were now in complete possession of Transylvania, the
Turks were everywhere driven back and trampled down, the hereditary
Prince of Bavaria took Belgrade by storm and put twelve thousand
Janissaries to the edge of the sword. Thus the gate of the Turkish
Empire was broken open, and the victoriously advancing host, under the
Prince of Baden, crushed the remains of the Turkish army at Nish. Then
Bulgaria and Albania were subjugated, the sea shore was reached, and
only the Haemus Mountains stood between the invaders and Stambul.
The deluge left nothing untouched, even little Wallachia, whose
fortunate situation, wild mountains, and villainous roads had hitherto
saved it from invasion, saw the approach of the conquering banners.
Old S---- was still the Prince, and he now gave a brilliant example of
the dexterity of Wallachian diplomacy, which at the same time
illustrates the simplicity of his character.
The armies invading Wallachia were entrusted to the care of General
Heissler, who consequently wrote to Prince S---- informing him that he
was advancing on Bucharest through the Transylvanian Alps with ten
thousand men, therefore he was to provide winter quarters and provisions
for his army, as he intended to winter there.
At exactly the same time the Tartar Khan gave the Prince to understand
that he intended to invade Moldavia in order that he might follow the
movements of the Transylvanian army close at hand.
The Prince liked the one proposition as little as the other, so he sent
the Tartar Khan's letter to General Heissler bidding him beware, as a
great force was coming against him, and he sent Heissler's letter to the
Tartar Khan advising him in a friendly sort of way not to move too far
as Heissler was now advancing in his rear.
Consequently both armies turned aside from the Principality, and
Wallachia had to support neither the Germans nor the Tartars.
This is the diplomacy of little states.
* * * * *
Amidst the wildly romantic hills of Lebanon is a pleasant valley for
which Nature herself has a peculiar preference. Amidst the gigantic
mountains which encircle a vast hollow on every side of it, rises a
roundish mound. On level ground it would be accounted a hill, but in the
midst of such a range of snowy giants it emerges only like a tiny heap
of earth, and to this day nothing grows on it but the cedar--the finest,
darkest, most widely spreading specimens of that noble and fragrant tree
are here to be found. A foaming mountain stream gurgles down it on both
sides, a little wooden bridge connects the opposing banks, and in the
midst of the bridge a rock projecting from the water clings to the
mountain side. Far away among the blue forests shine forth the white
roofless little houses of the city of Edena, which, built against the
mountain side, peer forth like some card-built castle, and still farther
away through gaps in the hills the Syrian sea is visible.
Here in former days on the heights stood the romantic and poetical kiosk
of Feriz Beg.
The youth, with dogged persistence, continued to live for years in this
sublime solitude with the din of battle all around him. The prophecy
which he had once pronounced in the Divan was whispered abroad among
the people, ran through the army, and as every one of his sayings was
severally fulfilled, the more widely there spread in the hearts of the
soldiers the superstitious belief that till he seized his sword they
would everywhere be defeated, but when he should again appear on the
battlefield the fortune of war would turn and become favourable once
more to the Ottoman arms.
Long ago the Divan had wished to profit by this blind belief, and
countless embassies had been sent to the youthful hermit in his solitude
announcing the fall of generals, the loss of battles, the pressure of
peril.
Nothing could move Feriz. To all these tidings he replied:
"Thus it must come to pass! Doves do not spring from serpents' eggs.
Your rulers are those who took it upon them to wipe out a sacred oath
from the patient pages, who tore up and burnt and scattered to the winds
the vow that was made before God, and now ye likewise shall be wiped
from the page of history and your memory shall be laden with reproaches.
Learn ye, therefore, that it is dangerous to play with the name of
Allah, and though many of you grow so high that his head touches the
Heavens--yet he is but a man, and the earth moves beneath his feet, and
presently he shall fall and perish."
The men perceived that these words were not so bad as they seemed to be
at first sight, and after every fresh defeat, more and more of his old
acquaintances came to see him and begged and prayed him to seize his
sword once more and let himself be chosen leader of the host.
He sternly rejected every offer. No allurement was capable of making him
change his resolution.
"When the time comes for me to draw my sword," he said, "I will come
without asking. That time will come none the quicker for anyone's
beseeching, but come it will one day and not tarry."
And, indeed, the advent of that time had become a matter of necessity
for the Ottoman Empire. The banners of the German Empire were waving in
the very heart of Turkey; the Poles had recovered Podolia, the Venetians
were on the Turkish islands, and at last Transylvania also broke with
the Porte and opened her fortresses to the enemies of the Padishah.
The new Sultan collected fresh armies, military enthusiasm was
stimulated by great rewards, fresh alliances were formed, and among the
new allies the one who enjoyed the greatest confidence was Emeric
Toekoely, who was proclaimed Prince of Transylvania, and orders were given
to the Tartar Khan and the Prince of Moldavia to support him with their
forces.
Toekoely, always avid of fame and glory, threw himself heart and soul into
this new enterprise, but it was only when he saw the army with which he
was to conquer Transylvania that he had misgivings. His soldiers were
good for robbing and burning, they had been used to that for a long
time, but when it came to fighting there was no power on earth capable
of keeping them together. What could he make of soldiers whose sole
knowledge of the art of warfare consisted in running backwards and
forwards, whose most sensible weapon was the dart, and who, whenever
they heard a gun go off, stuffed up their ears and bolted like so many
mice? And with these ragamuffins he was expected to fight regular,
highly-disciplined troops.
Suddenly an idea occurred to him. He sat down and wrote a letter and
delivered it to a swift courier, enjoining him not to rest or tarry till
he had placed it in the proper hands.
This letter was addressed to Feriz Beg. In it Toekoely informed him of the
course of events in Transylvania, and it concluded thus:
"Behold, what you prophesied has come to pass, those who began the war
along with us now continue the war against us. Remember that you held
out the promise of joining us when such a time came; fulfil your
promise."
Feriz Beg got this letter early in the morning, and the moment after he
had read it he ordered his stableman instantly to saddle his
war-charger, he chose from among his swords those which smote the
heaviest, exchanged his grey mantle for a splendid and costly costume,
gave a great banquet to all his retainers, and bade them make merry, for
in an hour's time, he would be off to the wars.
* * * * *
The imperial army was making itself quite at home in Albania. Beautiful
scenery and beautiful women smiled upon the victors; there was money
also and to spare. And soon came the rumour that a gigantic Tartar host
was approaching the Albanian mountains, in number exceeding sixty
thousand. The imperial army was no more than nine thousand; but they
only laughed at the rumour, they had seen far larger armies fly before
them. The pick of the Turkish host, the Spahis, the Janissaries, had
cast down their arms before them in thousands; while it was the talk of
the bazaars that all that the Tartars were good for was to devastate
conquered territory. Besides, reinforcements were expected from Hungary,
where the Prince of Baden was encamped beneath Nandor-Fehervar with a
numerous army.
The leader of the Albanian forces was the Prince of Hanover.
He was a pupil of the lately deceased Piccolomini, and though he
inherited his valour he was scarcely his equal in wisdom.
On hearing of the approach of the Tartar army he assembled his captains
and held a council of war. The enemy was assumed to be the old mob which
used to turn tail at the first cannon-shot, and could not be overtaken
because of the superior swiftness of its horses. And indeed it was the
old mob, but a new spirit now inspired it; it followed a new leader
whom the enemy had never put to flight or beaten, and that leader was
Feriz Beg.
Toekoely's letter had speedily brought the young hero all the way from
Syria to Stambul to offer his sword and his genius to the new Sultan,
and the Sultan had charged him to lead the Tartar hordes against the
imperial army.
When Feriz, from the top of a hill, saw the forces of the Prince of
Hanover all wedged together in a compact mass on the plain before him
like a huge living machine only awaiting a propelling hand to set it in
motion, he quickly sent the Tartars who were with him back into the
fir-woods that they might well cover their darts with the tar and
turpentine exuding from the trees, and this done, he sent them to gallop
round the Prince's camp and take up their position well within range.
The Prince observed the movement but left them alone; oftentimes had the
Turks attempted a simple assault upon the German camp; oftentimes had
their threefold superior forces surrounded the small, well-ordered camp
and assaulted it from every side, and the Germans used always politely
to allow them to come within range of their guns and then discharge all
their artillery at once--and generally that was the end of the whole
affair.
Feriz, however, made no assault upon them, but got his Tartars to
surround them, commanding them to set their darts on fire and discharge
them into the air so that they might fall down into the German camp.
According to this plan they could fire at the enemy at a much greater
distance off than the enemy could fire upon them, for the dart, flying
in a curve could reach further than the straight-going musket balls of
those days, and wherever it fell its sharp point inflicted a wound,
whereas the bullet was often spent before it reached its mark.
Suddenly a flaming flood of darts darkened the air and the burning
resinous bolts fell from all sides into the crowded ranks of the
imperial army; the points of the darts fastened in the backs of the
horses, the burning drops fell upon the faces and garments of the
warriors, burning through the texture and inflicting grievous wounds;
the horses began to rear violently at this unexpected attack; the
gunners, cursing and swearing, began to discharge their guns anyhow at
the enemy; nobody paid any attention to the orders of the general,
discipline was quite at an end; the burning darts were destructive of
all military tactics, for there was no refuge from them, and every dart
struck its man.
Then Feriz Beg blew with the trumpets, and suddenly the imperial troops
were attacked from all sides. They were unable to repel the attack in
the regular way, but intermingled with their assailants, fought man to
man. The picked German troopers quitted themselves like men, not one of
them departed without taking another with him to the next world, but the
Turks outnumbered them, and just when the Prince's army was exhausted by
the attacks of the Tartars, Feriz brought forward his well-rested
reserves, who burned with the desire to wash out the shame of former
defeats. The Prince of Hanover fell on the battle-field with the rest of
his army. Not one escaped to tell the tale.
This was the first victory which turned the fortunes of war once more in
favour of the Turks after so many defeats.