THE TURKISH WORLD AND THE RISE OF PROTESTANTISM IN HUNGARY.
While Islam was rapidly losing ground, and hurrying to irretrievable
destruction on the peninsula south of the Pyrenees, it obtained a fresh
foothold on another southern peninsula of Europe, in the regions of the
Balkan washed by the Mediterranean Sea, and became there so powerful
as to influence, for nearly five centuries, the political destinies
of the Western world. At the same time that the power and culture of
the Moorish state was declining in Spain, Europe found itself assailed
by another Mohammedan nation, the Turks, who, taking up the standard
of the crescent, attempted to force upon the Christian world their
new ideas, religious, political, and social. On the first appearance
of the Turks on the Balkan peninsula, they were met by the two states
which opposed their further advance, and the struggle with these began
at once. The first, the Byzantine empire, was, however, at this time
already an effete and tottering organization, an ancient and venerable
ruin, and it was able to make but a feeble resistance. It retreated
step by step before the Asiatic conquerors, who got possession, first,
of its entire outlying territory, and finally captured (in 1453) the
seat of government, Byzantium, the renowned city of Constantine. The
second opponent which withstood the advance of the Turks was Hungary, a
state which, though still young, had shown a sturdy national vitality,
and successively reduced to vassalage the countries of the Balkan, and
was steadily engaged in extending its influence and authority towards
the East. The Turks could not dispose of Hungary as easily and quickly
as of the enfeebled Byzantine empire. More than a century of nearly
constant conflict had to elapse before the Hungarian supremacy in the
regions of the Balkan was put an end to, and the Turks were able to
penetrate as far as Mohács, and there to inflict a mortal blow on the
independence of Hungary. During this struggle of a century and a half
the name and fame of Hungary were perpetuated by many a brilliant feat
of war, and by many glorious victories, and when John Hunyadi, the
most formidable foe of the Turks, died, all Europe mourned his death
as the loss of the great champion of Christianity. His son, Matthias
the Just, one of the greatest kings of Hungary, whose memory is held in
pious reverence by the Hungarian people to this day, following in the
footsteps of his illustrious father, through his many triumphs, made
his own name, too, hardly less formidable to the Turks. But Hungary,
as the offspring of the Western Church, the Church of Rome, turned her
looks, at that time, to the West rather than to the East, and Hungarian
statesmanship was far more intent upon humiliating the emperor of what
was then known as the Roman empire, than upon breaking down the power
of the Turks. King Matthias captured Vienna, and made large conquests
at the expense of the German empire, but he chastised the Turks only
now and then, and never seriously thought of endeavoring to thoroughly
crush the Turkish power. Under his feeble successors, the Turks, who
easily recuperated from the losses of single battles, grew into a
formidable power, which soon brought Hungary to the verge of ruin. We
have described, in the preceding pages, the fatal battle of Mohács,
fought on the 29th of August, 1526, in which the youthful King Louis
II. opposed an army of hardly 25,000 men to Solyman’s 300,000, to be
swept away by the torrent of overwhelming numbers. To give an adequate
idea, however, of this awful catastrophe in the annals of Hungary, we
will add here that seven bishops and archbishops, thirteen lords of the
banner, five hundred magnates, and many thousand nobles laid down their
lives on the bloody battle-field.
The nation was seized with indescribable terror on learning the details
of this dreadful calamity; entire villages were deserted by their
inhabitants, who scattered in every direction. The widowed queen,
finding herself utterly deserted in Buda, fled to Presburg, and the
capital of Hungary, one of the finest cities of Christendom, which
but a little more than a generation before had been made one of the
chief centres of European learning and culture, passed, in less than
two weeks after the fatal day of Mohács, without any resistance, into
the hands of the victorious Solyman. The Turks sacked and set fire
to the beautiful city, and all its magnificent buildings, save the
royal palace, were destroyed by the flames. The victorious enemy met
with as little opposition in ravaging and massacring in the country
as they had encountered at the capital. There was no one to stay
their devastations. The miserable peasantry still made some feeble
attempts at defence; here and there a few thousand men collected at
some fortified position to protect themselves and their families. Thus
some 20,000 men retreated into the Vértes mountains, and, under the
leadership of Michael Dobozy, entrenched themselves near the village of
Marót, in a camp fortified by a barricade constructed of wagons. But
the Turks had their guns carried up to the nearest eminence, and opened
a fire on the occupants of the improvised wall. The peasants were
struck with terror, and the undisciplined boors, the wailing women and
children, deserted their sheltering wagons in despair. Dobozy, seeing
that all was lost, mounted his gallant steed, and placing his young
wife on the saddle before him, he sought safety in flight. The elated
Turks fell upon the flying Hungarians, frightfully massacring their
ranks. Among the fugitives, Dobozy especially attracted the enemy’s
attention, owing to the superiority of his armor, indicative of gentle
blood, and more particularly because of the young woman he carried in
his arms. They pursued him like bloodhounds. The distance between the
pursuers and pursued gradually diminished, and Dobozy’s horse began to
show signs of exhaustion under the double burden. Wife and husband saw
the fierce forms, eager for prey, draw nearer and nearer. Still there
was a gleam of hope for them if they could reach the near brook, cross
the bridge, and destroy it before their pursuers came up with them.
They succeeded in gaining the bridge, but, alas, the flying peasants
had already broken it off, and there was no other thoroughfare to the
opposite bank.
All was lost now. Dobozy told his wife to fly by herself, whilst
he would remain and stay with his own breast the progress of their
pursuers. But the young spouse would not part from her loving husband,
not even in death, and besought him to kill her rather than to expose
her to the chance of falling into the hands of the pagan enemy. The
desperate husband, seeing the Turks quite near to them, stabbed
his youthful wife with his own dagger, and then, turning upon his
adversaries, dearly sold his life. The spot where Dobozy and his
faithful wife lost their lives is, to this day, called Basaharcz (the
Pasha struggle).
The immense Turkish army spread all over the country, everywhere
plundering, ravaging, and destroying defenseless lives, and reducing,
in a war of a few months’ duration, the population of the country by
nearly 200,000 souls. The capital in ruins, hundreds of other places
deserted and laid waste, the country without a king, the church without
any higher clergy, the greater part of the nobility, used to arms,
killed—such was the condition in which Hungary was left by the Turks at
the departure of Sultan Solyman. In October, 1526, he left the doomed
country, having first laden his ships, sailing for Constantinople, with
the treasures of the palace of King Matthias—its rare curiosities, its
bronze statues, and a portion of the famous Corvinian library.
The fatal day of Mohács had entirely overturned the order in the state,
and amongst the magnates who survived it party strife soon broke out.
One party, acting upon the conviction that enfeebled Hungary was unable
to resist, unsupported, the overwhelming power of the Turks, elected a
Hapsburg archduke, Ferdinand of Austria, a brother of Charles V., the
Roman emperor, king of Hungary, and since that time the royal crown
has, in fact, remained in possession of the Hapsburgs. It was through
this dynasty that the Hungarian people endeavored to secure the aid
of the German empire against the Osmanlis. But another party amongst
the great lords pursued an opposite course. In their opinion a native
dynasty and peaceful relations with the invincible Turks were the means
of rescuing the country from her pitiable plight. These patriots,
therefore, elected as king of Hungary, John Szapolyai, the vayvode of
Transylvania, and the most powerful lord in the country, and thus the
nation had now two kings in the place of the one who had fallen at
Mohács.
But neither of these parties nor their royal representatives could save
the country from the Turks; on the contrary, the continual rivalries
between the two kings not only demoralized public virtue and upset all
law and authority within the kingdom, but they assisted not a little
the foreign enemy in getting into their possession, by slow degrees,
the larger part of Hungary, and enabled the Turks, within a brief
period, to float their crescent on the towers of Buda, and there, to
the ruin of the nation, and to the perpetual terror of the Christian
world, it continued to wave for nearly one hundred and fifty years. The
history of the Hungarian nation during this entire period is sad in the
extreme—a tragedy, the scenes of which are supplied by an uninterrupted
series of trials and sufferings. Owing to the incapacity of the leading
statesmen and generals, the ruin of the country became more and more
irretrievable. Yet, however dark and forlorn this period may seem,
the national sufferings of those days are relieved and brightened
by the glorious heroism and patriotism displayed by the people. The
Hungarians, although menaced, in their very existence, by many enemies,
by party strife, and religious dissensions, exhibited such rare moral
courage, heroism, devotion, self-denial, and manliness, that the memory
of the generations of that melancholy era will remain forever hallowed.
Heroes arose on every side, and the struggle, sustained by the nation
for nearly a century and a half against the oppressive power of the
Turks, reminds one, in many of its features, of the protracted contest
between the Spaniards and the Moors, and, like it, abounds in poetry,
romance, and those noble examples of patriotism and loftiness of soul
which kindle the human heart, arouse the sympathies of the poet, and
are treasured up by the piety of after-ages as glorious relics of the
past.
Solyman’s ambitious schemes looked for still wider fields of conquest,
and in 1529 he marched towards Vienna, in order to attack King
Ferdinand in his own capital. The city, however, was successfully
defended. In 1532 Solyman advanced again upon Vienna. The sultan’s
progress was unopposed until he reached Köszeg (German, Güns), in the
neighborhood of the Austrian frontier. The keys of sixteen fortresses
and fortified cities lay at his feet; Köszeg alone refused to do
homage, and arrested the sultan’s triumphal march. Michael Juricsics
was its commander; he was just about to remove his small garrison,
consisting of twenty-eight hussars and ten cuirassiers, to Vienna,
for whose defence all the available forces were being called in, when
the Turks appeared beneath the walls of Köszeg. On beholding the
approach of the immense Turkish army, Juricsics took a bold and noble
resolution. He determined to hold the fortress, and to die rather than
surrender it to the enemy. He immediately took measures to defend the
place; he repaired the walls and bastions, armed seven hundred peasants
who had sought refuge in the city, and purchased with his own money
gunpowder and provisions. The Turkish army arrived under the walls of
Köszeg on the 5th of August, 1532; a few days later the sultan himself
joined them, and the siege was prosecuted at once with the utmost
energy. The outer fortifications had already fallen into the hands of
the enemy, the guns and mines had effected a breach sixteen yards wide
in the main wall of the citadel, of its seven hundred defenders half
had fallen, and on the 24th of August Juricsics had but one hundred
weight of gunpowder left. Yet the plucky reply he gave to the sultan’s
summons to surrender was: “As long as I live I will not surrender.”
The Turks thereupon directed a fresh assault upon the citadel, and
the garrison again lost many lives, while Juricsics himself was
wounded. The Turks pressed into the city, but the inhabitants, at
their approach, broke out into such dreadful howling and wailing
that the frightened assailants retreated, and the city was once more
miraculously spared. But Juricsics himself saw now the impossibility of
further resistance; he had no more gunpowder, and most of the garrison
were like himself wounded. For the purpose, therefore, of sparing the
lives of the remaining inhabitants, he finally permitted the Turkish
flag to be hoisted over the city. Solyman, seeing the Turkish flag
floating over Köszeg, thought he had captured the citadel, and retired
from under the walls on the 31st of August. But it was not towards
Vienna that he directed his steps, but homeward. He had been delayed
nearly four weeks near Köszeg, and during this time a powerful army
had been collected in Vienna which the sultan had not the courage to
face. Juricsics had thus, by his heroism, saved Vienna from a siege,
the issue of which might have been calamitous to that renowned city of
Christendom.
Many were still found in other parts of the country to follow the
stirring example set by Juricsics, but unfortunately success but rarely
attended their devotion. Most of them were fated only to be martyrs to
the sacred cause, shedding their blood on the altar of their tottering
country. The farther the Turkish conquests extended the more precarious
and perilous became the position of the isolated commanders of the
Hungarian border fortresses. The safety of a whole territory or country
often depended upon the possession of one of these strongholds. Thus
were the wealthy mining towns and the entire Hungarian mining region
protected by the fortified place of Drégel, and it naturally attracted
the attention of the Turks, always thirsting for plunder, who hastened
to lay siege to it, hoping, by its possession, to open the road to the
mines. Gallant George Szondi, the commandant of the fortress of Drégel,
was a determined and magnanimous man who, fully conscious of the great
importance of the place, was ready to defend it with his life. The
fortress itself was not one of the first order, and was guarded only by
a small garrison.
In July, 1552, a Turkish army numbering about 10,000 appeared under the
walls. Ali, the Pasha of Buda, himself a chivalrous and noble-minded
soldier, stood at the head of the besiegers, and, under the fire of
his guns, the bastions crumbled to dust in the course of a few days.
When the great tower too, was but a heap of ruins, and the walls were
showing wide gaps everywhere, and all hope of being able to continue
the defence seemed to have vanished, Ali sent a message to the
commandant of Drégel. He employed a clergyman by the name of Márton,
the parish priest of a neighboring village, to go to Szondi and to
tell him that: “Ali reverently bowed before Szondi’s bravery and
determined spirit, the report of which had reached him long ago, and of
which he had had good occasion to convince himself during the present
siege, but as the position could be held no longer, Szondi ought to
preserve his heroic life and to surrender the crumbling fortress, and
if this were done free departure should be guaranteed for himself and
his people.” Szondi silently listened to the message of Ali, whom he
knew to be a noble and chivalrous foe, but manfully declined to lay
down his arms. He was resolved to defend the place to his last breath,
and rather bury himself under its ruins than negotiate with the enemy.
But he in turn asked now a favor of Ali Pasha, not for himself, but for
two youthful troubadours, two young bards who were in the fortress,
and for whom the Hungarian hero wished to provide before his death. He
had the youths dressed in purple velvet and sending them, under the
care of Father Márton, to Ali Pasha, he requested the latter to take
these youths—some say they were his own sons—into his service, as he
himself would not be able to bring them up, and to make brave men of
them. Then summoning into his presence two Turkish captives remaining
in the fortress, he bestowed upon them rich presents and allowed them
to depart.
As soon as Márton had left with his youthful charges Szondi felt
that the supreme moment, the moment of a glorious death, was near at
hand. He ordered his money, his clothes, and all his valuables to
be taken into the courtyard of the citadel, and, for fear they might
fall into the hands of the enemy, he himself set fire to them and saw
them reduced to ashes. Then he directed his steps to the stables, and
thrust with his own hands his lance through his horses, his noble war
steeds. Hastening now to his few remaining soldiers he addressed to
them touching words of farewell. Outside, the approach of the Turks,
preparing for the assault and shouting Allah, was already heard.
Szondi, at the head of his two companies, rushed to the citadel gate
and there laid down his life after heroically defending himself. A
ball having penetrated his foot, the dying man sank on his knees and
continued the fight to his last breath. He was finally cut down by
the Turks, who surrounded him on all sides; his head was placed on a
lance and carried in triumph to the victorious Ali. The generous Turk
was deeply moved by this noble example of self-sacrifice, and, having
given orders to seek out Szondi’s body, he caused his remains to be
buried with great military pomp, in a neighboring hill. For a long time
the spot where Szondi was laid into the grave was marked by a pike and
a flag. One of the greatest poets of modern Hungary, John Arany, has
perpetuated Szondi’s story in a beautiful ballad, and contemporary
piety has just erected amidst the ruins of Drégel a chapel in memory of
the departed hero.
Stephen Losonczy, another Hungarian hero, who shared Szondi’s fate
a few days later, had no such noble opponent as Ali to deal with.
Temesvár, the largest fortress in the country, was entrusted to his
care. Fifty thousand Turks marched on Temesvár, and having quickly
reduced all the smaller fortified places and cities near it, they
reached the fortress in an over-confident mood. Losonczy immediately
sallied out to meet the enemy, and so intimidated them that they soon
gave up the siege and left the neighborhood. Yet only for a short time;
they returned in greater numbers under the leadership of Ahmed Pasha.
The latter at once called upon the Hungarian commandant to surrender
the fortress. Losonczy collected in the public square the garrison
which numbered altogether 2,200 soldiers, of whom 1,300 were Hungarians
and the remainder Germans, Czechs, and Spaniards, and asked them if
they were ready to defend to death the fortress in their charge. The
enthusiastic shouts of the soldiers—that they were ready to die rather
than yield up the place—was the answer he received. Losonczy at once
swore in his men, and immediately answered the summons of the Turkish
pasha by a sally from the fortress, driving the enemy from the vicinity
of the trenches.
The Turks now proceeded to lay regular siege to the fortress—a branch
of military science in which they were highly accomplished. They were
masters in the art of reducing fortified places, in the mining works,
and in the handling of the great battering guns. Thirty-six guns of
heavy calibre soon poured their shots into the fortifications, which
after a couple of days exhibited such breaches that the pasha thought
the time for an assault had arrived. Thousands of brave Janissaries
rushed at the tottering walls. There, however, they were met by the
guard, who, themselves ready to die, made a frightful havoc amongst
their assailants. The assault was repulsed in a few hours, the trenches
were filled with the Turkish dead, and many a distinguished bey and
officer of high rank was left lifeless on the scene of the sanguinary
contest.
Losonczy, however, saw that all the heroism of his soldiers was thrown
away if he did not receive aid from abroad. He therefore applied to
the commanders of the royal and Transylvanian armies for soldiers,
gunpowder, and other war requisites of which he had run short, but
could obtain nothing from them. In this strait he resolved to devote
his own fortune to the cause of his country, and wrote to his wife,
the high-minded Anna Pekry, who was outside the fortress, to turn all
he had into money, to mortgage his estates, and, with the funds thus
obtained, to hire soldiers, purchase munitions, and send them into the
besieged fortress. The generous woman was ready to bring any sacrifice
to assist her husband in his extreme distress, and, taking into her pay
five hundred volunteers (hayduks) whom she provided with the necessary
military equipments, she bade them march to the relief of Temesvár.
But the place was already completely invested, and the small troop was
unable to penetrate the strong blockading cordon of the Turks. The five
hundred hayduks were dispersed by the enemy, the gunpowder was taken
away from them, and now Losonczy gave up all hope of aid from without.
Yet the gallant commander never for a moment wavered in his duty. He
wrote, in one of his last letters: “We are patiently looking forward
to the moment when we must die,” and all he asked of the king was to
take care of his little orphans. The hour was not far off, for the long
siege had already exhausted their ammunition and provisions, and the
Turks were constantly renewing their assaults. Although the enemy lost
at times three thousand men in one assault, they returned each day in
still greater numbers and repeated the attack. St. Anne’s Day arrived,
the day of the patron saint of Anna, Losonczy’s wife, which in brighter
days he used to celebrate, according to ancestral fashion, by merry
carousing, but it was now a melancholy day for the brave commander.
The provisions and ammunition were all exhausted, and the Turks, after
immense losses, had finally succeeded in occupying the large entrenched
tower lying between the inner citadel and the town.
Hungry, without gunpowder, and with no hope of relief from abroad,
Losonczy’s soldiers began at last to mutiny, and, wishing to save
their lives, they insisted upon the surrender of the town. The Spanish
soldiers—the foreigners—especially demanded the giving up of the place,
while the Hungarians declared that they were still ready to follow
their gallant leader to death. The inhabitants of the town, reflecting
that by a capitulation they might save their lives and property,
whereas if the Turks entered the city by force of arms they would be
shown no mercy, finally sided with the Spanish party and were bent
upon making terms with the enemy. At first Losonczy would not hear of
yielding, but when Ahmed Pasha’s messengers appeared at the fortress
and promised every one safe departure, besides the right of taking
with him all his movables, the Spaniards compelled him to sign the
capitulation.
So the brave soldier at last gave up the struggle, and, troubled by
sad forebodings, he withdrew from the ruined fortress at the head of
his decimated troops, who were still fully armed. Outside the gate he
was received with military honors by the Turkish commanders. Losonczy
was proceeding on his good horse through the ranks of the enemy which
were in a line drawn up on either side, when suddenly there came from
the Hungarians in the rear shoutings and cries. He turned back and saw
that the Turks, in shameful disregard of the terms of capitulation, had
fallen upon his pages and were pillaging them. The old warrior could
not witness this disgrace unmoved; he drew his sword, once more the
war-trumpet sounded the attack, and he rushed to the rescue of his men.
The engagement became general and the small band was almost entirely
cut down. Losonczy fearlessly braved death, and, bleeding from numerous
wounds, was finally taken by the perfidious enemy, who, cutting off
the hero’s head, sent it as a token of triumph to Stambul. Thus, in
1552, passed Temesvár, one of the most important fortified places in
Hungary, into the possession of the Turks. It remained longer under the
Turkish yoke than any other Hungarian stronghold of importance, for
thirty years elapsed after the reconquest of Buda before it was again
restored to the possession of the king of Hungary.
Szondi and Losonczy might have been spared martyrdom if the
commander-in-chief of the royal army, who were all foreigners, had, in
their vanity, had the courage to attempt their rescue. They witnessed,
sunk in cowardly inactivity, the deadly throes of these heroes, and
looked on with indifference while one fort after the other was falling
into hostile hands. These foreign commanders, with their armies
composed of foreigners, were never able to cope with the Turks. If
they ventured to engage in a battle they were sure to lose it. In this
way can it be accounted for that in spite of the superhuman efforts of
the Hungarians who heroically battled for their country, the Turkish
conquests grew apace, and the flat portions of the land, the rich and
fertile lowlands, passed under the rule of the Osmanlis. Transylvania,
the eastern portion of the country, had struggled into a sort of
independence, and severing herself gradually from the mother-country,
had a separate state organization of her own under her native rulers,
so that Hungary may be said at this time to have been cut up into three
parts. The largest portion accepted the Turkish supremacy, Transylvania
asserted its independence, and the remaining and smallest division
acknowledged the kings of the Hapsburg dynasty, whose residence was
in Vienna. The German, Italian, and Spanish troops employed by the
latter, together with those by whom they were led, so far from being
instrumental in the liberation of the country, indulged in the same
licentious and lawless behavior as the Turks themselves. They were
utterly ignorant of the language, customs, and institutions of the
Hungarian people, and were entirely indifferent to the interests of the
country. These irresponsible military bodies harassed and plundered
the native population to such an extent that it was not long before
the Hungarians came to hate the foreign soldiery, and the Germans in
general, as much as they did the Turks.
But even during the most depressing days, and under circumstances of a
most desperate and hopeless character, the spirit of heroism did not
die out amongst the Hungarian people. Shortly after the reduction of
Temesvár the immense Turkish army marched against Erlau. Stephen Dobó
was the commandant of the latter place. He knew by the sad examples
of Losonczy and Szondi what was in store for him, and, although the
royal troops were near, he also knew, from experience, that he could
not depend upon any help from that quarter, and must needs look to his
own resources to stay the progress of the overwhelming forces of the
Osmanlis. “We expect aid from God only, and not from men,” he wrote at
the approach of the enemy. He immediately took measures to defend the
place; he laid in large supplies of ammunition, sulphur, saltpetre, and
provisions, sent his lieutenant, Mecsey, a soldier worthy of his chief,
into the adjoining counties to fire the hearts of the young men, and to
invite them to enroll themselves amongst the defenders of the fortress.
He made up his garrison of Hungarians only, knowing, from experience,
that the foreign hirelings could not be trusted. He had altogether
only nine guns and nine gunners, but he hurriedly drilled the students
and the more intelligent amongst the peasants in artillery practice,
and formed them into a separate corps of cannoniers. Having provided
every thing in time, and placing his trust in God and his own strength,
he calmly awaited the enemy.
No sooner had the immense Turkish army arrived, when Ahmed Pasha
summoned Dobó to surrender the fortress. Dobó collected about him
his men and publicly read to them the pasha’s letter. The gallant
Hungarian garrison shouted, as with one heart, that they would never
surrender the place. Dobó, his fellow-officers, and all the men, then
took a solemn oath to fight to the bitter end, and that, if any one but
breathed about the surrender, he should be hanged on the pillar of the
town well. As an answer to Ahmed’s missive, Dobó caused to be placed
upon one of the lofty towers of the bastion a large iron coffin with
two lances, one of them floating the Hungarian flag, and the other the
Turkish. This was to convey to the enemy that on this place either the
Turks or the Hungarians must perish, and in order to give weight to his
answer he sallied forth with part of his garrison that very night, and
brought away from the besiegers a great deal of booty.
[Illustration: HEROIC DEFENCE OF ERLAU.]
Ahmed retorted by opening a fire on the town and citadel from 120
guns, some of which sped balls of fifty pounds as far as the bastion,
but eighteen days elapsed before the enemy could summon up sufficient
courage to try an assault. It proved ineffectual, the assailants
being gallantly repulsed by the Hungarians. A few days later a great
calamity befell the denizens of the citadel. The powder magazine,
struck by a hostile ball, exploded, and a portion of the wall of the
citadel was thrown down by the explosion. Taking advantage of the
wild confusion the explosion had created amongst the garrison, the
enemy directed another assault against their works, but quite as
ineffectually as before. They were driven back; Dobó had the wall
repaired, and in the cellar vaults he established a gunpowder factory,
which proved sufficient to furnish the necessary supply.
After several unsuccessful minor attacks, the Turks prepared for the
great final assault. They came against the fortress in overwhelming
numbers on every side, and already the garrison began to show symptoms
of exhaustion and wavering. At that moment of supreme danger, however,
the gallant defenders of the citadel obtained help from quite an
unlooked-for quarter. Wives, mothers, and daughters armed themselves,
and rushed to the walls to fight by the side of their dear ones. Some
of these amazons robbed the dead of their swords, and rushed, thus
armed, where the enemy was thickest; others brought boiling water and
oil, and poured it upon the heads of those who attempted to scale the
walls; and, with the help of these brave women, the assault was beaten
back at the most dangerous points. The women of Erlau had a large share
in the saving of the city, and the fame of their heroic devotion still
survives in Hungary. The Turks were quite panic-struck; in one day
alone they lost 8,000 men: and the soldiers loudly declared that God
was fighting on the side of the Hungarians, and who could struggle
against God? After a siege of thirty-eight days, the Turkish army at
length withdrew, and Dobó and his brave men were left in possession
of the now ruinous citadel, thus preserving it for their country. The
glory of their daring deeds has passed into a common saying. Of any one
accomplishing a great deed, the people say: “He has won the fame of
Erlau.” The place, nevertheless, passed under Turkish rule in 1596, its
Hungarian commandant having been compelled by the foreign garrison to
capitulate.
In 1566 Sultan Solyman, who, though old, was still full of vigor,
placed himself at the head of a formidable army, and invaded Hungary
for the sixth time, his object being to take Erlau and, eventually, to
march against Vienna. On reaching, with his 200,000 men and 300 guns,
Hungarian territory, he was met by the news that Mohammed Pasha, his
favorite, together with his army, had been massacred by the Hungarians
at Szigetvár. The aged sultan desired to avenge this affront at once.
Szigetvár and its brave commander, Nicholas Zrinyi, had long since
been troublesome to the Turks. Zrinyi, the scion of a most ancient
family, had been engaged for years in constant fighting against the
Moslem power, during those periods even when peace was officially
established. His possessions and castles lay in the border territory,
and the fearless man was ever at war with the Osmanlis, making them
feel the weight of his irresistible sword. The storming of Szigetvár
had been attempted once before, but the enemy had been beaten back with
great slaughter. And now the great sultan determined himself to bring
him to terms, and to invest in person the small fortress. Zrinyi was
prepared for the worst, and calmly got ready to face the formidable
foe. Szigetvár was not a fortress of the first rank, but only one of
the minor strong places. The main feature of its strength was that it
lay almost entirely surrounded by lake and marsh, the only road leading
to the place being over the bridge communicating with the gate. In
front of the citadel, on an island, was the old town, and south of
it, on another island, the so-called new town. Szigetvár, therefore,
consisted, in point of fact, of three places, each fortified, but
differing from each other in the strength of their works of defence.
The two towns were, in reality, advanced fortifications of the fortress
itself. Without much aid from any quarter, Zrinyi undertook the defence
of this small place. His own money purchased the necessary ammunition
and military supplies; he filled the granaries with provisions,
produced on his own estates, and from his cellar came the necessary
wine. There was an abundance of provisions in the place, but there
were not soldiers enough. When it became quite certain that the sultan
was marching his whole army against Szigetvár, all Zrinyi could obtain
from the king, after repeatedly urging his want of soldiers, was the
permission to hire one thousand foot-soldiers. German soldiers, it is
true, were offered to him, but those he did not want, preferring to
select his troops from amongst the garrisons of his own castles, so
as to have only tried men by his side. All the force he could muster
to oppose to the hundreds of thousands of Solyman numbered, at the
highest, 2,500 men. He had 54 guns and 800 hundredweights of gunpowder,
and, what was worth more than all that, he and his men were inspired by
the sublime resolve, rather to die on the field of honor than to submit
to the cruel enemy, who had turned into a desert a large portion of
their beautiful country. His soldiers worshipped their heroic leader,
and enthusiastically pledged their devotion by oaths of fidelity and
obedience.
On the 31st of July, 1566, the advance guard of the enemy showed
itself. During the first few days several minor engagements took place,
but the siege began in real earnest on the 7th of August. On that day
the first assault was attempted; it was directed against the weakest
point, the new town, but it met with no success. A few days later,
however, Zrinyi himself deemed it expedient to give up the defence of
this advanced position, and, after having set fire to the new town
and reduced it to ashes, he abandoned it to the enemy. The besiegers
immediately occupied it and erected their batteries, protected by
bags and baskets filled with earth, and sacks of wool. The batteries
were hardly ready when the Hungarians surprised them one night and
destroyed them all. Chance, however, now favored the Turks. A drought
had prevailed during two months, and the terrain surrounding the old
town had become so dry, as considerably to facilitate the approach of
the enemy. The besiegers attempted also to drain the lake surrounding
the fortress, and planned to accomplish this by cutting through the
great dam around it, so as to provide an outlet for the waters. The
neighborhood of the dam became the scene of fierce struggles. The
position was heroically defended by the Hungarians, while the Turks
quite as heroically again and again returned to the attack. After a
sanguinary contest lasting the whole day, the Turks finally took the
old town on the 19th of August, and Zrinyi with his shrunken garrison
entirely withdrew to the citadel, after having demolished the bridge
leading to the old town.
Sultan Solyman, however, now thought that lives enough had been lost,
and he therefore tried to get possession of the fortress by peaceable
means. He tried Zrinyi with fair promises; he sent him messages that he
would make him prince of Dalmatia, Croatia, and Slavonia, and tempted
him with treasures and estates. Then he tried him with threats. The
enemy had captured one of the trumpeters of Zrinyi’s son, George. The
trumpet found in the prisoner’s possession had the arms of the Zrinyi
family painted on it, and Solyman sent this trumpet to Szigetvár as a
token that Zrinyi’s son had been taken captive, and threatened that the
prisoner would be cruelly executed unless the place was surrendered.
Neither promises nor threats were of any avail. Zrinyi did not for
a moment waver, but was steadfast in his determination to follow the
dictates of duty and patriotism alone.
The wrath of Solyman at the wearisomeness of the siege knew no
bounds. He had been patiently expecting day after day the reduction
of the place, and finally, tired of further delay, gave the order for
a general assault on the 29th of August. The superstitious sultan
thought this a particularly lucky day, for it was the anniversary of
the day on which he had taken Belgrade and of the battle at Mohács.
The aged ruler, who now, but rarely showed himself to his soldiers,
mounted his favorite charger and appeared amongst the Janissaries, in
order to rouse and encourage them. His troops rushed enthusiastically
into the fight, for which the artillery and the engineers conducting
the siege had made every preparation many days before. But Zrinyi
was ready and wide-awake, and drove the assailants back with great
slaughter. Aliportug, a Portuguese renegade, who was the enemy’s
most distinguished artillery officer and military engineer, and had
conducted the siege of Sziget, lost his life during this engagement.
The Hungarians, although they too had suffered severe losses,
celebrated their triumph with bonfires and feasting. They now fondly
hoped that their heroic resistance would at last induce the royal
troops to come to the relief of Sziget, and to attack the exhausted
troops of the sultan. Some negotiations to that effect had been carried
on, but the result was as usual; the German commanders allowed the
scanty garrison to perish.
The besiegers, after their last repulse, passed an entire week without
renewing the attack. They employed this pause to lay unobserved a
powerful mine under the walls of the bastion, which was fired by
them on the 5th of September. The explosion shattered the walls, the
bastion fell down, and a terrible gale carried the flames into the
citadel in every direction. All the buildings were soon on fire, and
the Turks too began a general assault. Hemmed in by the dreadful
conflagration and the storming enemy, the Hungarians finally yielded.
They retired from the outer fortification, and Zrinyi with his men—who
had dwindled down to a few hundred—withdrew into the inner or smaller
fort. Further resistance seemed now hopeless, yet Zrinyi did not think
of capitulating. The cannon-balls of the enemy set on fire the smaller
fort on the 7th of September. Zrinyi, in this extremity, had all his
valuables, his thousands of gold and silver, his precious vessels and
plate, brought into the public square of the citadel and cast into
the flames. He then divested himself of his armor and helmet, donned
a dolmány (a short jacket braided in front), and threw over it a
dark-blue velvet cloak, placing in each of his pockets a hundred ducats
as a reward to the man who should discover his dead body. He wound a
costly chain of gold around his neck, in place of his helmet he put
on his head a kalpag (a Hungarian fur cap), ornamented with a heron’s
feather and diamond rosettes, and, arming himself with a curved sabre
and a light shield, he took with him the keys of the citadel, to make
sure that they should pass into the enemy’s hands only upon his death.
In this attire he appeared before his men, who were assembled in the
courtyard. He addressed them in a speech full of his generous spirit,
“lauding them for their gallant conduct, which would earn for them
the respect of the Christian world and of generations to come. The
conclusion of their heroic career,” he added, “ought to be worthy of
their brilliant feats of the past. There is but one road before us,” he
continued, “that of honor; all the other courses are those of shame.
You must either meet with death here amid the flames, or must sally
forth, and, dearly selling your lives, die the deaths of heroes. Choose
between the two.” The kindling words of their leader did not fail of
their effect. At this supreme moment the people of Szigetvár, in their
exalted enthusiasm, thought only of their honor. The very women wished
to follow the men on this their last journey. Zrinyi had the bridge
lowered and was the first to advance upon it. Lawrence Juranics was at
his side carrying the large banner, and the other officers promptly
followed. About six hundred people joined the sally of their heroic
leader, who, after a fierce struggle, laid down his devoted life. Of
his companions-in-arms but few escaped.[*]
[*] See Frontispiece.
Thus, after a glorious resistance of over six weeks, did Szigetvár
fall into the hands of the Turks. Sultan Solyman did not see the
victorious end of the siege; he had expired a few days before in his
camp. The Turkish army returned home, and thus through Zrinyi’s noble
self-sacrifice was the entire campaign of the enemy rendered barren of
results. The formidable army which had menaced the whole country wasted
its strength at Szigetvár, and the capture of this fortress alone cost
the enemy 30,000 lives. Zrinyi’s heroic death roused the admiration and
sympathy of the whole European world, and his name became famous as one
of the martyrs of Christianity.
Nor were the muses silent, in the midst of the heroic combats which
marked this sad period. With so many inspiring themes presenting
themselves, the poet, the successor of the mediæval troubadour,
soon appeared on the scene to perpetuate in song the memory of the
glorious deeds. Among others was Sebastian Tinódy, who described in
verse some of the most glorious of the episodes in the sad chronicle
of the sixteenth century. He visited the scenes of the battles and
engagements, sought out the survivors or those who had taken a
conspicuous part, the captains and their brave followers, collecting
the incidents presented in his ballads. Tinódy did not confine himself,
however, to his lyre, but was also an adept in the use of arms, and
often took part in the contests of his time, and had more than once
been wounded. Another and even more interesting figure was that of
Valentine Balassa, who was as gallant a soldier as he was eminent as a
poet. His works, consisting in part of religious poems and partly of
lyric songs, have been, for three centuries, the favorite reading of
the Hungarian people. Some of his writings have, however, come down
to us in manuscript only, and present a most valuable example of the
poetic genius of the Hungarians of his time. Balassa lived a stirring,
eventful and dangerous life, which came to a glorious end on the field
of honor. At the storming of Gran, in 1597, he was among the Hungarian
besiegers, and the gallant poet received a wound during the engagement,
which soon proved fatal.
[Illustration: PASHA’S HOUSE.]
In the midst of these perpetual struggles and successive calamities
closed the sixteenth century, and began the seventeenth quite as
inauspiciously for the Hungarians. Until now they had cherished the
hope that the Hapsburg kings would rescue them from the cruel rule of
the Osmanlis. But after a lapse of seventy years they not only saw
their hopes of liberation from the hated yoke destroyed, but had the
mortification of witnessing the continual spread of the Turkish power.
Besides, a sharp antagonism of another kind gradually arose between
the nation and their king. The national spirit, in spite of the sad
condition of the people, asserted itself more and more, and frequently
came into collision with the foreign royal dynasty, whose seat of
government was without the frontiers of the country. This antagonism
was not only of a national, but also of a religious character, for,
while the largest part of Hungary was overwhelmingly Protestant, the
kings of this period were among the staunchest supporters of the
Church of Rome. In addition to this, the kings, who were at the same
time emperors of Germany, had brought themselves, by their autocratic
actions, into direct opposition to the constitution of the country
and to the rights and privileges guaranteed by law. As a consequence
a fierce constitutional contest was raging, during the whole of the
seventeenth century, between the nation and their kings, which quite
overshadowed the struggle against the Turks. In these contests the
Hungarian people leaned for support chiefly on the principality of
Transylvania, whose rulers, Stephen Bocskay, Gabriel Bethlen, George
Rákóczy I., not only made their comparatively small country the bulwark
of Hungarian nationality and of the Protestant Church, but raised her
to a position of exceptional influence in European politics.
Before continuing to sketch the period of the Turkish rule in Hungary,
we will take a rapid glance at the rise of Protestantism amongst the
Hungarians.
[Illustration: HUNGARIAN PEASANTS IN AN INN.]
The fall of Luther’s hammer upon the door of the castle-church of
Wittenberg, as he nailed to it his famous theses, reverberated even in
Hungary, and produced an intense commotion in that distant country.
The period of the _renaissance_, the revival of art and literature,
had prepared all active and inquiring minds for changes in church and
religion. The country had maintained an active intercourse, political,
commercial, and cultural, with the western nations, and when Luther
began the great work in Germany, which was to mark a new era in the
history of the world, his ideas spread like wildfire all over Hungary,
and, especially, found favor amongst the German inhabitants, who formed
at that time an important element of her population. The cities of
Buda, Oedenburg (Soprony), Presburg, the wealthy mining regions in the
north, the Királyföld in Transylvania, were settled by Germans. Many
of their clergy, attracted by ties of national kinship had finished
their studies in Germany, and their merchants were closely connected
in business with those of the old fatherland. Owing to the intimate
relations thus established between the Germans of Hungary and their
brethren abroad, the teachings of Luther gained almost as rapidly
ground among them as among their countrymen in Germany, where the new
doctrines had first been promulgated. In the course of a few years the
new movement had assumed such formidable proportions that it attracted
the attention of the whole nation.
The Catholic clergy, threatened in their supremacy, were the first to
take the field in defence of the Church thus assailed. Round them very
soon rallied that class of the nation which, alone, enjoyed political
rights in the land, the entire nobility. In siding with the Catholic
clergy, in this conflict against the Reformation and its followers, the
Lutherans, the nobility were by no means actuated by religious motives
only. Their hostile attitude was rather owing to important political
considerations. The throne was then occupied by Louis II., who was of
Polish extraction, the same youthful king who, noted for his frivolous
character, expiated the errors of his reign upon the battle-field
of Mohács. This unfortunate ruler was personally as indifferent to
religion as to every thing else involving a serious turn of mind. But
his wife, Queen Mary, the sister of the German emperor, Charles V.,
was all the more enthusiastic in the defence of Luther’s teachings.
The queen and her German courtiers, by exerting a baneful influence
over the affairs of Hungary, had incurred the ill-will of the nobility,
which was identical with the national party. This party, with a view to
striking a blow at the German and Lutheran sympathizers surrounding the
king, enacted from the outset most rigorous laws against the Lutherans.
Thus, as early as 1523, a law was promulgated declaring Lutherans and
their protectors (clearly indicating by the latter term the German
courtiers of the king) foes to the Holy Virgin Mary, the patroness of
Hungary, and as such, punishable with death and confiscation of their
property. The persecutions against the adherents of the new faith
began immediately. Luther’s works and writings, which had been largely
imported into Hungary, were seized and consigned to the flames. The
Reformation, nevertheless, steadily gained ground.
In the diets which, owing to the attacks threatening the country
from abroad and troubles at home, were then held three or four times
annually, the national party, headed by John Szapolyai, one of the
most powerful lords of the land, was constantly urging the cause of
the Catholic Church. But there were other political reasons, besides
their antipathy to the German courtiers, which determined the national
party to persist in their antagonism to the new faith. The Osmanlis
were continually harassing the southern frontiers, and the country was
always on the brink of a war with them. The nobility, representing the
nation, felt instinctively that a catastrophe was near at hand, which
Hungary, by her unaided strength alone, would be unable to avert. They
had to look for foreign aid, and effective help from abroad could
be expected only from the two most powerful rulers in Christendom,
the pope and the emperor of Germany, both of whom were Luther’s most
determined opponents. They succeeded in securing the good-will of the
pope, who, having no armies at his disposal to aid Hungary, assisted
the country by abundant supplies of money. In return the nobility
deemed it their sacred duty to keep a faithful watch and ward over the
interests of the Catholic Church, and, in order to do so effectively,
they inaugurated relentless measures against the Lutheran heretics.
In 1525 another law was passed against the votaries of the new creed,
ordering their extermination throughout the country, and declaring that
Lutherans, wherever they were found, should suffer death by fire. This
cruel law began its abominable work, and the funeral stakes soon sent
forth their lurid flames. The religious persecutions thus inaugurated
hastened the downfall of the Hungarian kingdom.
The dreadful catastrophe at Mohács, in 1526, forced Hungary into
untrodden roads, not only politically, but also in the matter of
religion. The death of her king, and the slaughter of so many prelates
and of thousands of nobles, on the fated battle-field, gave a violent
shock to the organization of both state and church, and rendered easy
the further extension of the Reformation. Many of the great lords
and nobles, who hitherto had been the most ardent supporters of the
Catholic Church, speedily became, from political motives or private
interest, zealous apostles of the new faith, so that the doctrines
of Luther, before principally confined to the inhabitants of the
cities, now found many adherents among the magnates. The bondmen,
too, who, even in matters of religion, were compelled to obey the
behests of their masters, embraced the religion of their lords. As
a consequence, the victory of the Reformation became, a few decades
only after the battle of Mohács, complete through the larger part of
Hungary. The doctrines of Luther had paved the way for the teachings
of Calvin. The latter, owing to their puritanic spirit and democratic
tendencies, which suited the rooted predilection of the Magyar race
for self-government, spread mostly over the Hungarian section of the
country. The religion of Calvin, or the Helvetic confession, had
such a hold upon the Hungarian-speaking population that it was soon
designated by the special name of the Hungarian faith, while the
Lutheran tenets were held chiefly by the German denizens of the cities
and the Slavic inhabitants of the upper country. The ancient Roman
Church was confined to a comparatively small territory, and during the
seventeenth century hardly numbered one seventh of the population.
One of the most shining pages in the law records of Hungary—an
enactment granting to the two Protestant churches equal rights with
the Catholic Church—is connected with the name of Stephen Bocskay.
Although the Catholic Church had, during the sixteenth century, lost
most of its followers, yet legally, and owing to the circumstance that
the Hapsburg kings were the most zealous propagators of the Roman
faith, it continued to be the only recognized church, and to exercise
an unduly preponderating influence in public life, which, at that
time, bore an exclusively religious impress. The Hungarian magnates
and noblemen, then almost all Protestants, under the leadership of
Prince Stephen Bocskay, took up arms against this privileged position
of the Catholic Church, as well as in defence of the laws of the
land, and succeeded in obtaining, in 1606, at the peace of Vienna, a
law whereby perfect equality between the Protestant churches and the
Catholic Church was established. This great victory, achieved by the
Protestants, had the effect of rousing the Catholic Church to energetic
action. The anti-reformation movement began in Hungary, as it had
already all over Europe, and produced, under the direction of Cardinal
Peter Pázmány, the archbishop of Gran, in a comparatively short time,
the most surprising results. In the course of a few decades, the most
influential and leading families of the aristocracy returned to the
fold of the Catholic Church.
The mass of the people, however, the nobility, the inhabitants of the
cities, and the peasantry, still remained Protestants, and when the
Transylvanian princes, Gabriel Bethlen and George Rákóczy I., were
about to engage in war against the Hapsburgs, they readily rallied
around these bearers of the standard of the national faith. The
peace of Linz, a confirmation of the treaty of Vienna, was concluded
under Rákóczy, again solemnly proclaiming the perfect equality of
the Protestant churches with the Roman Catholic Church, an equality,
however, which, in point of fact, was never put into practice. The
written law and their good right was of no use to the Protestants, for
the power was gradually slipping from their hands. Under the patronage
of the royal court, the anti-reformation movement had made great
conquests amongst the lower classes of the people, and sometimes by the
use of violence, sometimes by other means, whole districts and large
territories again became Catholic. Elated by these successes, the court
of Vienna for a long time ignored its promise of freeing the Hungarian
people from the Turkish yoke, and about sixty years elapsed without
any hostilities against the sultans. The chief endeavor of the court
was forcibly to deprive the Hungarian nation of her constitutional
institutions which were based upon her nationality, and to subject
to imperial absolutism the people, jealous of their liberties and
accustomed to freedom. These unconstitutional proceedings on the part
of the government produced popular risings and party strife, and were,
in their sad consequences, fatal to thousands of fanatics, spreading
misery and poverty even to those parts of the land which, from their
geographical positions, had been exempt from the ravages of the Turks.
The cessation of hostilities did not interrupt the continued ravages
and devastations. Officially, it is true, there was, for about sixty
years, peace between the royal court and the sultans, but this did
not prevent the latter from constantly indulging in minor military
operations. In 1663, however, when Leopold I., who was of an eminently
peaceful disposition, held the throne, the Turks officially declared
war. Although it had already then become apparent that the Turkish
empire was impaired in strength, and, more particularly, that her
military organization had degenerated, yet the Turks were eager for new
battles, and war was determined upon in Constantinople. Hostilities
soon commenced, and at St. Gotthard, in 1664, the Turks got their
first repulse, for Christian arms there dealt them a heavy blow.
Not once during the two centuries that had gone by were the Turks
so overwhelmingly defeated on the continent as on this occasion.
Enslaved Hungary breathed more freely, and already thought that the
long-hoped-for hour of shaking off Moslem thraldom had arrived. But she
was doomed to disappointment. The brilliant triumph was not turned to
Hungary’s advantage in Vienna. A hasty peace was concluded with the
terrified Turks, and thus was prolonged for many decades the Turkish
rule, which, though enfeebled, was still ruinous to Hungary.
It was at this period, too, that a man of great genius, and a true
patriot, preached, with genuine apostolic zeal, a crusade against the
Turks. His name was Nicholas Zrinyi. The namesake and great-grandson
of the hero of Szigetvár, he was himself a gallant soldier and famous
poet, and has immortalized, in a grand Hungarian epic, the martyrdom
of his heroic ancestor. By his writings he fired the hearts of his
countrymen, and his life was passed on bloody fields, in perpetual
warfare against the Turks. From his youth he had been inspired by one
thought only, to live and die for his country, and, although a devout
Catholic, he nobly proclaimed religious toleration, at a time when
the country was torn by religious dissensions. His educated mind led
him to cultivate poetry, and to study the works of classical authors
on history and philosophy, but his chief interest always remained the
battle-field and the struggle against the Turks. On one of his estates
he had a small fortress erected, called Zerinvár, from which the
Hungarians were in the habit of sallying forth into the neighboring
Turkish territory. This little place was a thorn in the side of the
Turk, and the main cause of the declaration of war of 1663. Zrinyi,
however, defended it gallantly, and beat back the assault of the enemy.
In the course of the war he took several Turkish fortresses, and burned
down and destroyed the bridge across the Drave, 4,000 paces in length,
near Eszék, which had been built under Solyman, and which, being the
main road leading into the western part of the country, was defended
by trenches and other fortifications. The repute made by Zrinyi’s
extraordinary feats of war resounded in all Europe, and he was loaded
down with distinctions by the pope, Louis XIV. of France, and by the
princes of Germany and Italy, as the hero of Christendom. In the zenith
of his glory, he lost his life by a cruel accident. While engaged in
the chase, a wild boar rushed upon him, and wounded him mortally. He
was found by his servants, lying on the ground, bathed in his own
blood, and expired shortly afterward. All Hungary and Christian Europe
lamented the loss of the distinguished soldier and poet.
His devout wish, to see the Hungarian nation freed from the oppressive
rule of the Turks, did not approach its fulfilment until twenty
years after his death. But even then it was not the royal court
which accomplished the work of liberation, for, instead of making
preparations in that direction, the government initiated the most
cruel persecutions against the Protestants, compelling them to resort
to armed resistance. The struggle between the Kuruczes, or the armed
Hungarians, and the imperial troops was at its height, when Kara
Mustapha Pasha, the ambitious grand-vizier of Sultan Mohammed IV., saw
in this intestine war a favorable opportunity to conquer the remaining
territory of Hungary, and even to menace in his own residence, Vienna,
the emperor of the Romans. Leopold I., the emperor of Germany and king
of Hungary, did all in his power to conciliate the Turks and to delay
the war. But Kara Mustapha remained inexorable, and boldly ventured on
an enterprise which was destined to be fatal to him, and which, after
a long and sanguinary contest, finally led to the overthrow of the
Turkish power in Europe and the liberation of Hungary.
In the spring of 1683 the sultan and his grand-vizier commenced their
march at the head of a force numbering 250,000 men, carrying with
them 300 cannon. In Hungary they were joined by the so-called Kurucz
king, Count Emeric Tökölyi, and his adherents. This tremendous army
was already under the walls of Vienna in July, but two months of a
severe siege had already elapsed and the city could not be taken. The
Christian forces, led by John Sobieski, King of Poland, and Charles,
Duke of Lorraine, were meanwhile hastening to the relief of the city,
and on the 12th of September they succeeded in completely routing the
Turkish army, which lost 60,000 men, the remainder scattering in wild
flight in every direction. This was the last great campaign undertaken
by the Osmanlis against the Western world. They could never recuperate
from the effects of the defeat then suffered, and the great calamity
which befell the Turkish power rendered it, at length, possible for
Hungary, the bulwark of Christianity, which had been the scene of
continual wars during a century and a half, to regain her liberty.
Leopold I., who had seen his capital menaced by the Turks, now took
energetic measures to continue the war, and very soon his forces
recaptured Gran, the ancient seat of the primate of Hungary, which for
a long time had owned the Turkish rule. The whole line of the Danube
fell into the hands of the Christians, and in 1684 an attempt was
made to capture Buda, the once famous capital of Hungary. The siege,
however, failed on this occasion, in spite of the heroic efforts made
by the Hungarians. But they were more fortunate in the case of another
powerful Turkish stronghold, Neuhäusel (Érsekujvár), the recapture of
which, a brilliant military feat, was made the occasion for feasting
and merriment in many European cities. At length, in 1686, Buda, too,
was restored to Hungary. Volunteers flocked into Hungary, from every
part of Europe, when the news spread that Duke Charles of Lorraine,
the commander-in-chief, was making preparations for the recapture
of the ancient and famous seat of the Hungarian kings. A powerful
army gathered around his banners, and in the middle of June the duke
arrived under the walls of Buda, which was defended by Abdi Pasha,
then seventy years old, and a garrison of 16,000 determined soldiers.
The siege lasted seventy-seven days, during which time the Turks made
two sallies, and the grand-vizier made three attempts to come to the
relief of the garrison, but the enemy was each time driven back by
the Christian forces. The strongly fortified city, which had been
heroically defended, fell, at length, after five unsuccessful assaults,
on the 2d of September, 1686, into the hands of Duke Charles. On the
afternoon of that day, at four o’clock, began the sixth assault; 9,000
Christian heroes resolutely stormed with fixed bayonets (an arm at
that time still new and here employed for the first time) the walls
which had been reduced to ruins by the guns of the besiegers. After a
sanguinary contest lasting about one hour, a gallant Hungarian, David
Petneházy, succeeded in penetrating, first, with his 800 hayduks, into
Buda, whose garrison and inhabitants were almost entirely put to the
sword. Thus after a lapse of 145 years was Buda freed from the Turkish
yoke, and the whole Christian world was jubilant over the glorious news.
Many bloody battles, however, occupying a considerable period of time,
had to be fought before the Moslem oppressors were entirely swept
away from Hungarian territory. Duke Charles marched to the southern
parts of Hungary and destroyed the Turkish army near Mohács, there,
where 161 years before the Hungarian army had been annihilated by the
Moslems. Soon after, Transylvania, too, passed under the supremacy
of the king of Hungary. All the principal fortresses and towns were
successively occupied by the royal troops, and when, in 1691, a Turkish
army numbering 100,000 men was sent again to Hungary by the Sublime
Porte, they were completely routed near Szalánkemén. It was one of the
most sanguinary battles of that century; the grand-vizier himself,
the aga of the Janissaries, seventeen pashas, and 20,000 Turkish
soldiers lost their lives during the engagement. During a few years
succeeding this great battle, lesser engagements only were fought, but
hostilities never ceased. In 1697, however, Duke Eugene of Savoy, the
“noble knight” and illustrious general, assumed the commandership of
the royal forces. In the battle near Zenta he utterly annihilated,
after a contest of two hours, a Turkish army led by Sultan Mustapha
II., inflicting frightful losses upon the enemy; 10,000 Turks met
their death in the waters of the Theiss, 20,000 were killed, and among
the dead were the grand-vizier, 4 pashas, and 13 begler beys. These
successive disasters and the frightful loss of men, amounting to many
hundreds of thousands in the course of the fifteen years of warfare,
finally prevailed upon the sultan to accept the terms of peace proposed
by Leopold I. The treaty of peace was signed at Carlowitz in 1699, and
under its terms Transylvania and the greater part of the Hungarian
territory was restored to the king of Hungary by the sultan, but a
smaller portion, lying between Transylvania and the Theiss, the ancient
county of Temes, was still permitted to remain in Turkish hands.
The court of Vienna, instead of attempting to regain the remaining
territory, elated by the recent military successes, again renewed
its attacks upon the nationality of the Hungarians and their ancient
liberties, which it had always looked upon with decided dislike, and
the complete subversion of which it now attempted. The nobility, weary
of the absolutism of the court, combined at last with the peasantry,
who had suffered severely under the lawlessness and illegal exactions
of the soldiery, to raise the standard of rebellion, under the lead
of Francis Rákóczy II. The great national struggle for liberty was
initiated by electing Rákóczy king of Hungary and Transylvania, and,
very soon, the Kurucz troops roamed as far as Austria. Later on,
however, the fortunes of war changed, and Rákóczy retired to Poland
hoping to obtain aid from the Russian Czar Peter the Great. During his
absence he entrusted one of his generals, Alexander Károlyi, with the
command of his army, who, however, instead of continuing the struggle,
made his peace with the king. The peace of Szatmár, in 1711, finally
put an end to the period of constitutional struggles between the nation
and the king.
Now, at last, came the time for the still enslaved Hungarian territory
to be freed from Turkish rule. The new war began in 1716. The imperial
troops were again commanded by Prince Eugene, who, once more defeating
the Turks near Peterwardein wrested, at last, Temesvár and the county
of Temes from the Turks, in whose possession they had remained one
hundred and sixty-four years. At the peace, concluded in 1718, the
Sultan relinquished also his claim to that part of the country, and
thus the entire territory belonging at the present day to the crown of
Hungary was at last freed from Turkish thraldom.
There was now an end to the Islam rule in Hungary, as there had been
to the same rule in Spain. But whilst the Moors had immortalized
their name by memorials of a grand civilization, leaving behind them
flourishing and wealthy cities, numerous works of art, and marvels of
architecture, the Turks left Hungary ruined and devastated. Throughout
the whole territory of the reconquered country, only a few miserable
villages could be met with here and there, population had sunk to
the lowest ebb, endless swamps covered the fertile soil of the once
flourishing Alföld (Lowland), and the genius of the Hungarian nation
had now to engage in the arduous labor of subduing, by the arts of
peace and civilization, the sterile waste they had regained at last
by their bravery and endurance. The work, hard as it was, was done.
For a century and a half the severe task of colonizing and civilizing
has been going on bravely, until finally that tract of land, which
they recovered from the Turks an uninhabited desert, has grown to be
populous, flourishing, and one of the richest granaries of Europe.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]