The story of Hungary 22

The story of Hungary 22

The last days of Louis were embittered by the disorders in Poland.

He who had succeeded everywhere else failed there. Disappointment

shortened his life; upon returning to Tyrnau on the 11th of September,

1382, from attending the Polish diet convened in Hungary, he was

taken ill, and breathed there his last. The Hungarian nation lost in

him one of their greatest kings. His reign was stormy but glorious.

The Hungarian banner floated always victoriously on his numerous

battlefields, and he humbled the enemies of the nation. In spite

of his many wars, Louis found leisure to devote his time to the

cultivation of the arts of peace. He gave laws to his country, which

secured her permanence, and remained in force up to the most recent

ages. He brought order into the affairs of the Church, and into the

administration of justice. He was a zealous patron of learning, and

established a university at Fünfkirchen (Pécs). His court, the seat of

which he fixed at Buda, was brilliant; the Western customs, brought

over from Italy, prevailing there. In times of peace magnificent

tilts and tournaments at home took the place of the bloody game of

war abroad, and the distribution of arms and knightly distinctions

introduced by his father continued during his reign on even a larger

scale. On all occasions Louis showed himself to be a brave, wise,

and pious king, whose long rule is described by an eminent Hungarian

historian as proving “a continued blessing” for his nation.

 

Dark days succeeded the glorious reign of Louis. The Hungarian

nation was eager to testify their gratitude to their great king

by a concession made to his dynasty—notwithstanding its foreign

origin,—which they had refused to make to the glorious dynasty of

the native Árpád family. After the king’s death his daughter Mary

was proclaimed queen and the crown conferred upon her. But the crown

brought little joy to Mary, for the festivities of the coronation

were hardly finished when she was menaced by dangers coming from two

sides. The Poles hated Sigismund, to whom Mary was affianced, and

insisted also that their ruler should live amongst them. Elizabeth,

the queen-mother, in order to conciliate the opposition of the Poles,

and not to risk the loss of Poland, offered them, as a substitute for

Mary, her younger daughter Hedvig. The Poles agreed to this compromise,

upon the condition that they should select a husband for Hedvig, their

queen. It was a great trial for Hedvig to part from William, Duke of

Austria, to whom she was betrothed, but her choice lay between him

and the crown of Poland. The allurements of the latter prevailed,

and in February, 1386, the Polish nation celebrated the nuptials of

their queen with the Lithuanian duke, Jagello, recently converted to

Christianity, whom they had chosen for her husband. This marriage put

an end to the union of the two countries, and Poland had once more a

ruler of her own.

 

There was greater danger threatening Hungary from the south. The

nobles of Croatia were dissatisfied with female rule. There were some

ambitious men who were incensed to see themselves excluded from the

royal court, whilst a man of low descent, like Garay, the palatine,

took the lead there. They were intent upon destroying the government in

order to remove the queen. In Charles of Durazzo, who owed the throne

of Naples to Louis the Great, they found a man who was willing to

become a candidate for the throne of Hungary. The traitors, however,

on the appearance in their midst of the energetic Garay, accompanied

by the queen and the queen-mother Elizabeth, kept quiet for a while.

But no sooner had the royal party left Croatia, when these men, who

all owed their honors to the favor of the late king, resumed their

machinations, and prevailed upon Charles of Durazzo to perjure himself

and to break the oath he had pledged to the late king not to disturb

his daughter Mary in the possession of her throne. In 1385, undeterred

by the warnings of his wife, he arrived in Croatia.

 

Meanwhile the marriage of Mary and Sigismund had taken place. The

latter, in order to collect an army with which he should be enabled to

oppose the advancing enemy and defend the rights of his royal spouse,

hypothecated a portion of the country to raise the necessary funds.

This ill-timed transaction increased the chances of his opponent, for

the nation saw with indignation that Sigismund, in the capacity of

“the guardian of the realm” only, without possessing any royal rights,

began his guardianship by thus disposing of Hungarian territory. Such

a disgraceful transaction was unknown in the history of the country,

and it was not long before Charles could enter Buda, without let or

hindrance; disguising, however, even then, his lawless aspirations, by

pretending to have only come to make peace between the nation and her

queen. But Charles was not long in showing his true designs. On the

31st of December, 1385, the cathedral of Stuhlweissenburg witnessed

a most moving scene. The coronation of the usurper Charles was to

be solemnized; the church was crowded, to its remotest corner, with

sumptuously dressed lords. The widowed queen and her daughter Mary were

also in attendance. The customary question was asked of the magnates

of the land, by the Primate of Hungary, whether they wished Charles

to be their king. The enthusiastic acclamations of assent became, at

the Primate’s third appeal, feebler and feebler as the piteous sobs of

the two queens, who had sunk upon their father’s and husband’s grave,

resounded in the church. The coronation proceeded nevertheless, and

whilst the archbishop sent up his prayers of grace to heaven, the

widowed queen was silently vowing desperate vengeance at the grave

of her husband. Bad omens followed the pageant; during the solemn

procession the banner of St. Stephen split into pieces, and as the new

king entered the gates of his palace at Buda, its walls were shaken

to its very foundations by a tremendous thunder-storm. Charles had

occupied the throne thirty-nine days only, when he was summoned by the

widowed queen, residing under one roof with him, into her presence

to settle some grave matters of state. The king obeyed the summons,

and was humbly received by Garay the palatine, Blasius Forgách the

lord cup-bearer, Thomas Szent-Györgyi, the ban of Croatia, and the

other lords present. The council had hardly commenced when, at a hint

from the palatine, Forgách got behind the king and struck him on the

head with his pole-axe. The blow inflicted a mortal wound and the

king fainted away. The assassins had made careful preparations for

the bloody event. Whilst Forgách was doing away with the king in the

council-chamber, his Italian soldiers, in the palace, were disarmed by

Garay’s men. Charles was taken to Visegrád, where he was thrown into

prison and afterwards strangled.

 

The news of the king’s assassination stirred up fresh discontents

in Croatia, where his party had been most numerous. Garay imagined

he could quell the rebellion again by appearing amongst them. The

two queens approved of his scheme, and proceeded, in his company, to

Croatia. This time, however, their going to Croatia was to prove fatal

to them. The queens, travelling with a small escort, were surprised by

John Horváthy, one of the rebels, near Diákovár, and a mortal struggle

ensued between the rebels and the queen’s escort. Garay and Forgách

fought with exasperation in defence of the queens. Garay, pierced by

arrows, set his back against the coach, valiantly selling his life,

and not allowing the enemy to approach his royal charges except

across his dead body. All this heroism was wasted in the face of the

overpowering number of the rebels, and the dreadful spectacle was soon

presented to the queens of having the heads of their faithful defenders

cut off before their very eyes. The queens themselves were placed in

confinement at Novigrad, on the sea-shore. The long series of deaths by

violence, which appeared to persecute the Anjou race like a curse, was

destined to have one more added to it at Novigrad. The widow of Louis

the Great was, after a short imprisonment, strangled by one of the

rebels before the eyes of her unfortunate daughter.

 

The disorders had now reached their climax; one of the crowned rulers

of Hungary, Charles, had been assassinated, the other, Mary, was a

prisoner at Diákovár. The rebels were preparing to bring the son of

the usurper Charles into the country, while another party had cast

their eyes upon Ladislaus Jagello, the husband of Hedvig, as an

available aspirant to royal honors. The Prince of Servia was arming

to attack Hungary from the south, and Poland was preparing to invade

the country from the northeast, whilst the princes of Wallachia and

Moldavia, vassals of Hungary, declared their independence. So many

disasters demanded a prompt remedy, and the nation, in their distress,

decided to accept as their ruler Sigismund, the queen’s husband. He

was acknowledged as king, and the crown of St. Stephen was placed

on his head by Benedek, the bishop of Veszprém, in March, 1387, and

his reign lasted until 1437. To these melancholy circumstances did

Sigismund, of the house of Luxemburg, owe his elevation to the throne

of Hungary. It was a heavy burden that he had taken upon his shoulders,

the task of bringing order into the affairs of the distracted country.

His first and foremost duty was to liberate his august wife from her

imprisonment, but it must be reluctantly admitted that he exhibited

little zeal in the accomplishment of this. While he was travelling

leisurely from place to place without seemingly heeding the danger of

delay, Venice came to the rescue. The statesmen of the city of St.

Mark had watched with jealousy the union of Naples and Hungary in the

hands of one ruler, and to obviate this danger to their own city, they

sought the friendship of Sigismund, and sent vessels of war against

his rebellious subjects. John Palisna, in whose charge the imprisoned

queen had been placed, readily delivered her up to John Barbadico,

the captain of the republic, stipulating only for himself the right

of leaving without molestation. In July, 1388, husband and wife met

near Agram (Zágráb), and Sigismund made up for his former laxity by

sumptuously rewarding the Venetians who had liberated his queen.

 

The newly elected king had on the very threshold of his reign a

twofold difficulty to face. He had to quell the rebellion, which in

the southern part of his dominions was still active, and to arrest the

encroachments of the Turkish power. He succeeded in putting down the

rebellion. He marched into Croatia and Bosnia, pursuing the rebels to

their mountain fastnesses, and after many years of varying fortunes

of war he reduced them to obedience. The survivors of the scattered

rebels sought refuge in the wild forests of Syrmia. A small band of

thirty men rallied round Stephen Kont of Hédervár, the son of the

famous palatine Michael, a man noted for his bravery. Sigismund charged

Vajdafy, one of his trusty men, with the reduction of this band. He

found it, however, impossible to get near them, and finally resorted

to a stratagem. Vajdafy promised them a free pardon from Sigismund if

they surrendered and came up to Buda with him. The thirty-one warriors

accepted this proposal, but on their way the treacherous Vajdafy

ordered them to be placed in chains. They were so incensed at this

disgraceful treatment, that they determined not to do homage to the

king when brought into his presence. They refused to bend their knees

before him. The king did not reflect long, but ordered the thirty-one

gallants to be taken to St. George’s Place in Buda, where they met

their death at the hands of the executioner. Kont was the last to lay