THE DIET OF KARLSBURG
The states of the country were already assembled in Karlsburg, in the
stately palace of John Sigmund. Only the Prince's place was still
vacant. There sat in a row the Transylvanian patricians, the leaders
of the Hungarian nobility, the most influential by intelligence,
wealth, and bravery; the Bethlens, Kornis, Csakis, Lazars, Keménys,
Mikes and Banfys. The will of these mediæval clans represented the
nation, their deeds shaped its history, their ancestors, grandfathers
and fathers, had fallen on the battlefield in defence of their princes
or, in case they had risen against them, on the scaffold; and yet
their descendants did not fail to follow the example of their
forefathers. A new prince came to the helm and they took up the sword
fallen from the hand of their fathers to wield it for or against him,
as fate willed.
In picturesque contrast to the splendor of the Hungarian nobles were
the deputies and nobility of the Szeklers in their simpler costume and
with their serious inflexible features; and the Saxon states with
their simple faces and their ancestral German costume.
The crowd gathered in the galleries and behind the balustrades formed
a gay picture. Here and there one or another familiar figure was
pointed out and sometimes a threatening fist was shaken at some
offender. Finally a blare of trumpets announced that the Prince had
come. The seneschals threw wide the doors: the crowd cried huzza! and
the Prince entered attended by his courtiers. At their head marched
Dionysius Banfy as first marshal, with the national standard in his
right hand. By his side Paul Beldi of Uzoni with the princely mace, as
general of the Szeklers. Behind them came solemnly the prime minister,
Michael Teleki, carrying wrapped in silk the official seal.
All these lords were in splendid court costume. In the middle came the
Prince himself in long, princely caftan with ermine bordered cap,--the
sceptre in his hand. Around and behind him crowded the ambassadors
from foreign courts. In the first row was the Sultan's representative,
in jeweled costume; then followed the ambassadors of Louis XIV.,
Forval, a courtly, good-looking man in a silk-trimmed dolman, with
gold lace on his hat and an embroidered sword-knot, and an abbé with
smiling face, wearing a lilac robe and purple girdle. Then came
Sobieski's representative in cloak with slashed sleeves, so like the
Hungarian dress. All these lords took their places on the right and
left. The ambassadors of the foreign courts remained behind the
Prince's seat and several of them carried on a lively conversation
with the Hungarian nobles while the tedious protocol of the last Diet
was being read.
Among the last was Nicholas Bethlen, whose features became familiar to
us in Zrinyi's hunting-party. He was a lively, sensible man who in his
youth had traveled through all the civilized countries of Europe and
had made the acquaintance of the most important men, even of princes;
yet his national character had not been impaired although he had
adopted the most advanced ideas of his time. The French say that it
was he who first acquainted them with the hussar costume, and by the
pattern of the cloak which excited admiration on his figure, Louis
XIV. had several regiments equipped.
When Bethlen caught sight of Forval, whom he had known in France, he
hastened to him and greeted him cordially. Forval, hearing that
something was being read aloud, said to the young nobleman:
"Will you not lose the thread of the deliberation?"
"The present business can go on without me; the measures which are now
being carried turn on the question how many dishes a man should set
before his servant; or at the most how the poor can be made to grow
rich so they can pay their taxes. As soon as they come to important
matters I will be in my place."
"Come then and tell me meantime, which are worthy men here and which
are not. In Transylvania everybody is known, of course."
"This classification is not at all easy. Before I had ever been out of
Transylvania, and while I belonged either to one party or the other, I
was convinced that all the adherents of my party were worthy men but
those on the opposite side were worth nothing. But since I have lived
in foreign lands and been somewhat withdrawn from the sight of
political machinery I begin to see that one may really be as good a
patriot, as brave a fighter and as honest a man in one party as in the
other. It all depends on which is managing affairs more intelligently.
However, if you wish I will share with you my party views; you can
then form your own opinions. This man of proud bearing at the Prince's
right is Dionysius Banfy, the one at his left is Paul Beldi; both are
among the most distinguished lords of the country and both are
decidedly opposed to the impending war. At the same time they are
opposed to each other. On one point only do they stand together. Banfy
is evidently in league with the Roman Emperor and the other with the
Turk. According to their opinion Transylvania is quite strong enough
to drive out any foe which forces its way into the territory, and
sensible enough not to strive after the possessions of others. Now
turn your eyes toward that man with thin hair at the Prince's left. It
is this man's clearness that holds the two in check. He is a near
kinsman of the Prince's, and when the Hungarian National party has
been overthrown he will again take up the unsuccessful campaign. The
contest between the strength and cunning of these three men is going
to offer an interesting spectacle."
"What if the peace party should prevail?"
"Then the nation will have closed its career."
"And the king cannot oppose this?"
"Here, my friend, we are not at the court of Versailles where the king
may be allowed to say 'L'État c'est moi.' These men here are, each one
of them, as mighty as the Prince himself. Their strength acts in union
with the Prince; but let him try to act in opposition to the will of
the nation and he will soon discover that he stands alone. In the same
way these lords would be isolated if they should undertake anything
against the decision of the nation."
"Tell the truth. Do you hope the war-party will carry off the
victory?"
"Hardly, this time. I do not yet see the man who could accomplish it.
In the entire Hungarian nation there is no man who could serve as
ideal to this war-loving people. The leaders have gone to ruin.
Rakoczi has changed parties. Teleki knows how to overthrow parties
but not how to create any. Besides he is no soldier and in such a
position a warrior is needed; he represents cold reason and here a
soul of fire is needed. He does not feel a mission within him, he has
only an interest in having Hungary go to war. One of the great
Hungarian lords, that smooth-faced youth there, has sued for the hand
of his daughter in order to interest him in his party. You can be
assured he will not end where he has begun. One idea leads him
on,--power. Fate is changeful and he avails himself of every means."
This cold consolation was not agreeable to Forval; meanwhile the
tedious reading had come to an end and Bethlen returned to his seat.
The Prince explained to the lords, with great depression of spirits,
that the affair which had occasioned their coming together would be
explained by Teleki; he then wrapped himself more closely in his
caftan and settled down into a corner of the throne.
Teleki rose, waited until the murmur of the people had gradually
subsided, then cast a tranquil glance at Banfy and began as follows:
"Noble Knights and States, you are acquainted with the events which
have recently taken place in Hungary; even if you were not acquainted
with them, you would need only to cast a glance about you and you
would see the sad faces worn with despair which swell our assembly;
these are our Hungarian brothers, once the flower of our nation, now
withered leaves which the storm has driven. You have not refused to
share with your brothers in their misfortunes your hearth and your
bread, and you have mingled your tears with theirs; but they have
turned to us, not for the bread of charity, nor for woman's
tears--you, Bocskai, and you, Bethlen, whose portraits look down upon
us in silent reproach, whose victorious banners covered with dust wave
above the princely throne, why could you not rise in hero form to
seize these banners and to thunder out to this irresolute modern
generation: 'The exiles demand of you their home, you must win back
for the homeless their fatherland by war!'" . . . .
* * * * *
Here Teleki paused, as if he awaited objections. Everybody was wrapped
in silence, feeling that thus far it was only a matter of rhetorical
figures. This silence constrained Teleki to avoid the bombastic in his
speech.
"You meet my speech with silence. This is the same as, 'Qui tacet,
negat.' I will not believe that your heart is cold and that it is for
that reason you do not become excited. You waver because you are
taking counsel with your strength, but you must know that not alone
shall we move to the field of battle; the confiscated churches, the
fate of the clergy dragged away to the galleys, has forced weapons
into the hands of all the Protestant princes of Europe. Even the King
of Belgium, who has least concern for our fate, has by force rescued
the clergy of our faith from Neapolitan galleys. The sword of Gustavus
Adolphus too has not yet rusted in its scabbard. Yes, even the
Catholic princes and those who acknowledge Mohammed are ready to grant
their assistance in our affairs. See, the King of France, at present
the mightiest ruler of Europe, not only in his own land but also in
Poland recruits armies for us. If it should be necessary the Sultan
will not hesitate to break the enforced peace; or if he should not do
this, still it will be an easy matter to assure ourselves of his
border troops for pay. And now when the noise of battle roars about us
on all sides, when everybody has seized his sword, ought we alone to
leave ours in the sheath? We, who have the most duties to fulfil
toward our brothers and even toward ourselves? What happened to them
yesterday, may happen to us to-day. What country shall then give us
refuge? therefore, sons of my fatherland, listen to the entreaties of
the exiled as if you were in the same position; for I tell you the
time may come when you will be in the position of your brothers, and
as you treat them Fate will treat you."
With these words Teleki came to an end; he fixed his eyes on Dionysius
Banfy as if he knew in advance that he would be the first to oppose
him. Banfy arose; it was evident from his countenance that he had done
violence to his feelings in order to keep cool.
"Noble comrades,"--he began in an unusually calm voice,--"sympathy for
the unfortunate and hatred for old enemies are both passions befitting
men. The life of states however offers no room for passions. Here we
are not kinsmen nor friends, nor even enemies. Here we are only
patriots who reckon coolly; for the decision will determine the fate
of the whole country, quite apart from the question of how many will
weep or lament in consequence of the decision. This is the real
question,--'Shall we stake the existence of Transylvania for Hungary,
that it may arise again by our blood?' Let us not follow the voice of
our hearts; this would lead us to feel only, the head must think. At
present, Transylvania lives in peace. The people begin to feel
prosperous. The towns are building up. The garb of mourning is
gradually disappearing and on the bloody battlefields the blade shoots
into the ear. Now the Hungarian within Transylvania is his own master;
no stranger forces tribute from him; he has neither foe nor patron;
nobody dares mix in his councils: the neighboring powers are under
obligation to protect him, and he has no homage to pay them. Consider
this well before you hazard everything for one chance. Do you wish to
see Transylvania once more turned into a great battlefield and your
subjects into armies? and there is still the question whether these
armies would be victorious. Even if our fighting force were sufficient
another important question arises:--Who is to be our leader? Not one
of us has inherited the spirit of Bethlen or Bocskai. Neither I, nor
my lord Teleki. On whom can we count outside ourselves? on the mood of
Louis XIV.? his policy is easily made to waver by a pair of beautiful
eyes; and when we should be in the deepest distress it is possible
that a little intrigue at Versailles might be the cause of our being
left alone on the battlefield."
A slight cough of vexation was heard from Forval.
"However," went on Banfy, "Sobieski will not pick a quarrel with the
Emperor his present ally, for our beautiful eyes, unless there is
every other cause. Nor will the Sultan so easily break his oath as my
lord, Michael Bethlen, imagines. What course is there left us? To call
into Hungary the Tartar Nomads? The poor Hungarian people would
certainly return most hearty thanks for such assistance! The brave
Nicholas Zrinyi, who stands as the ideal to every Hungarian, once
related a fable bearing on this which deserves to be handed down. The
devil was dragging a Szekler along on his back. A neighbor of his met
him and said: 'Which way are you going, my good friend?' 'I am being
dragged to hell,' replied the other. 'Indeed, that is truly
unfortunate,' said the other. 'It would be still more unfortunate,'
replied the rogue, 'if the Devil should seat himself on my back, drive
his spurs into me and make me carry him.' I leave you to make the
application. For my part I should not know how to decide aright which
I ought to fear more, the enmity of the one, or the friendship of the
other. And what is to be the result of this war? If we conquer with
the aid of the Sultan Transylvania becomes a Turkish pashalic. If we
are conquered we sink into the condition of an Austrian province,
while now we are, by God's grace, an independent country. Hungary's
fate anticipates improvement in every case, and it lies just as
heavily on my heart as on the hearts of those who think that the sick
man can be healed by the sword. But nothing is to be attained in this
way. How much blood has already flowed without the slightest result!
Let us try at once another way. Ought not the Hungarian to possess so
much strength of soul that he can overthrow, by intellectual
superiority, the foe whom he cannot conquer by force of arms? Subdue
your conqueror. You who in understanding, activity, wealth and manly
beauty are the first of the kingdom, why do you not take the high
position which is becoming you? Were you there where the Pazmans and
Esterhazys spread themselves no empty place would then remain for a
Lobkowitz. If, instead of fighting these small battles without result,
you would fight it out with your intelligences and your influence you
might make your land prosperous and that without the cost of a drop of
blood. It rests with you to conjure up again the period of Louis the
Great. At that time when the foreign prince was so enamored of his
chosen people he understood how to become a Hungarian and so, with the
help of the nations, became strong and powerful. If in your eyes the
prosperity of the nations is of the first importance, change your
rôle: let the states of Transylvania undertake to promote peace
between the Emperor and the nation, to get back for you your property
and your rank and I will be the first to offer a helping hand for that
purpose, and Michael Teleki surely will be the second. If you do not
accept this proposition then consider what you can do. So far as that
prophecy goes of first one and then another, you need not be concerned
about Transylvania. I will wager that everybody who crosses
Transylvania by force of arms, let him be who he may, will find a
force to match him. I also wager that this Transylvanian fighting
force will never for the love of anybody rashly cross the borders of a
foreign country."
"So then you think Hungary is a foreign country!" rang out a mocking
voice from the crowd.
This interruption disturbed Banfy's composure. He turned angrily
toward the corner from which the remark had come, and when he met the
cold, disdainful glances of the Hungarians grouped together, he forgot
himself; everything swam before him, and throwing his kalpac on the
ground he cried out:
"As you say, quite right. You have always been strangers to us; nay
more, stepchildren! You have always done wrong and we have always
suffered for it. We have fought and you have trifled away the results
of our conquests. Three times have your dissensions plunged your
country into the grave, and three times has Transylvania brought it to
resurrection. We have furnished you heroes and you have furnished us
traitors." These last words Banfy had fairly to shout to make himself
heard above the increasing din. Soon all were shouting confusedly. The
Hungarian lords sprang up from their places and broke out in anathemas
against Banfy. The more serious of the peace-party shook their heads
thoughtfully when they saw that this inconsiderate expression of
Banfy's was the occasion of stirring up so much violence of feeling.
Beldi rose; and the rest who would gladly see peace restored, shouted:
"Let us listen to Beldi."
At this moment a young man suddenly made his way forward and stood in
front of Banfy with glowing face and his hand resting on Teleki's
seat. It was Emerich Tököli.
"I too ask for a word," he shouted, with a voice that drowned all
else. "By law and justice, speech is mine at this bar. If you in
Hungary deny your mother and would make boundaries between her and
you, then I too will speak. I am just as strong a landed nobleman
in Transylvania as you, proud little god, whose father was one of
those heroes in whose name you are heaping up insults on the
mother-country."
Beldi tried to get to Tököli to restrain him from speaking, but just
then he was seized from behind by the hand, and when he looked around
he saw to his surprise his son-in-law, Paul Wesselenyi, who called him
out into the entrance hall "just for a word." Beldi went into the hall
while Tököli's thundering words sounded through the entire room,
drowning out the ceaseless noise. In this entrance hall a veiled lady
waited for Beldi. When she uncovered her face it was only with the
greatest difficulty that he recognized his own daughter Sophie, the
wife of Paul Wesselenyi, so much had sorrow changed and broken her.
She had wept her beautiful eyes out.
"We are fugitives from our country," sobbed Sophie, falling on her
father's breast. "Our estates in Hungary have been taken from us. My
husband has been driven from his castle and is fleeing for his life."
Beldi grew serious. This unexpected Job's messenger brought war to his
soul. Within thundered Tököli's voice summoning them to an uprising
and Beldi no longer was in a hurry to check it.
"Stay with me," he said, sorrowfully. "Here you can live in peace
until the fate of the country meets with a change."
"Too late," replied Wesselenyi. "I have already enlisted as common
soldier under the standard of the French general, Count Bohan."
"You, a common soldier! You, a descendant of the Palatine Wesselenyi!
And what is to become of my daughter meantime?"
"She is to remain with you and to be widowed until the struggle for
Hungary is over."
When he had finished speaking he placed his young wife Sophie in
Beldi's arms, kissed her brow and went away with dry eyes.
Within the people were clamoring. Beldi saw his daughter sob and a
bitter feeling began to blaze in his breast, not unlike revenge. He
began to feel almost content that within there was a cry for war and
he stood ready to draw his sword--he, the leader of the peace
party!--to rush into the hall of the Diet and cry aloud, "War and
retaliation!"
At this moment the pages conducted to the door of the entrance hall an
old man, pale as death who, recognizing Beldi, hastened to him and
addressed him with trembling voice:
"My lord, surely you are the general of the Szeklers, Paul Beldi, of
Uzoni?"
"Yes, what do you wish of me?"
"I am," stammered, in dying voice, the sick old man, "Benfalva's last
inhabitant. The rest have all been carried off by
war--famine--pestilence. I alone am left; after I came away the place
was entirely deserted; I too feel my release near and so I have
brought with me to give over to you, the public seal, and the--village
bell--give them over to the nation--let them be kept in the
archives--and let it be written above: 'This was the bell and the seal
of Benfalva, in which village everybody to the last man is dead'!" At
this Beldi let his hand fall from his sword hilt in dismay and freed
himself from the embrace of his daughter who was still clinging to
him.
"Go home to your mother at Bodola, and learn to bear your fate nobly."
He then took the seal out of the hand of the death-stricken old man
and hurried back into the hall just as Tököli had finished his speech,
causing a terrible effect on the entire assembly. The French
ambassador pressed his hand. Beldi took his place at the Szeklers'
table and laid down the seal. He was universally respected and when
they saw that he was ready to speak there was perfect silence.
"See," he said in excited tones; "a desolated village sends here to
the country its official seal by its last inhabitant, and he too is at
the point of death. . . . Of such villages there are already enough in
Transylvania and in time there may be still more. Famine and war have
laid waste the most beautiful portions of our country. . . . This
seal, my lords, you must not forget to place among the symbols of your
victories."
These last words Beldi uttered hardly above a whisper yet they were
heard in every corner of the hall, so deep a silence reigned. A tremor
passed over the faces of the men.
"Outside the door I hear some one weeping," Beldi went on with
quivering lips. "It is my own daughter, the wife of Paul Wesselenyi,
who has been driven from her country and who has thrown herself
sobbing at my feet that I in revenge for her wrongs may allow
retaliation to prevail. . . . And I say to you, let my child weep, let
her perish, let me--and if necessary my entire family, be set apart
for destruction, but let nobody in Transylvania suffer on account of
my sorrow--even if every one of you has agreed to the war--I am
against it--My lords--do not forget, I pray you, to lay among your
trophies this seal, and soon the rest too."
When he had spoken, Beldi took his place again. Long after his words
were ended the silence of the grave reigned throughout the hall.
Teleki, ascribing this silence to disapproval rose, sure of his
position, and made the states give their votes. But this one time he
had not taken the public pulse correctly, for the majority of the
states, affected by the previous scene voted for peace, so great was
the influence of Beldi and Banfy still over the country.
Teleki looked in confusion toward his son-in-law. The latter muttered
bitterly with clenched fists and tears in his eyes:
"Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo."
When the assembly had broken up Forval and Nicholas Bethlen met.
"So then there is no future hope of seeing Transylvania take up arms,"
said the Frenchman, somewhat dejectedly.
"On the contrary we just begin to hope with good reason," replied
Bethlen, laying his hand on his friend's shoulder.
"Did you listen when the young man spoke?"
"He spoke beautifully."
"It is not a question of beautiful speaking. I think that is the man
you are looking for."
"A King of Hungary?"
"Or a fugitive fleeing from country to country, just as the dice
fall."