The story of Hungary 25

The story of Hungary 25

But he built his plan of battle upon this ruse: He ordered five

hundred distinguished soldiers to be stationed near the person of the

devoted officer, and he himself withdrew with his reserve and took up

a position in a remoter spot. The following day the two armies engaged

in battle. Every Turkish warrior sought the famous Hungarian hero; all

were eager for the glory of capturing and killing him, and anxious

to secure the prize set on his head. They all knew his face—which

strikingly resembled that of Simon Kemény—and his accoutrements, which

had been minutely described to them by their comrades. They at once

made a rush on Kemény, the pretended Hunyadi. This gallant hero, with

his five hundred men, stood the brunt of the onslaught with superhuman

courage; the enemy were literally mowed down by their swords, but,

at last, they had to give way to superior numbers, and their brave

leader laid down his life on the battle-field. The Turkish soldiers

precipitated themselves eagerly and with shouts of triumph upon his

inanimate body, when suddenly Hunyadi broke upon them—the real and

living Hunyadi whom the enemy had already thought dead. At this sight,

the enemy, who, a few moments ago, felt sure of their victory, were

seized with a panic, and sought safety in flight. Their leader, Mezid

Bey himself, and his son lay lifeless, with battered skulls, on the

field of battle.

 

The entire Turkish camp, with immense treasures and its military

stores, as well as numerous prisoners, fell into the hands of the

victorious Hungarians. Many a brave Hungarian warrior, it is true,

had lost his life, and the devoted Simon Kemény had found the death

he expected, but the country was saved, and the Hungarian losses were

as nothing compared with the losses of the Turks. The devout Hunyadi

afterwards caused a chapel to be erected from the proceeds of the

Turkish booty in memory of his martyred comrades.

 

The news of the ignominious defeat reached Sultan Murat at Adrianople;

he was greatly incensed, and swore dire vengeance against the

Hungarians. He summoned before him his brother-in-law, entrusted to his

command eighty thousand men, and ordered him to invade Hungary, to lay

every thing waste with fire and steel, and to annihilate Hunyadi and

his army. The Turkish commander, letting loose his Tartars, entered

Hungary quite suddenly through Wallachia. The frontier is here formed

by gigantic mountains, and but narrow passes lead from one country

into the other. Through one of these passes, the Vaskapu (Iron Gate),

the Turkish army passed into Hungary. The invaders had hardly time to

rest from their fatigues, when Hunyadi with his army appeared before

the unsuspecting enemy, ready to give battle. Abedin was surprised and

disconcerted; he thought the Hungarians would fly before him, and they

were facing him. Hunyadi entrenched his foot soldiery in a wagon-camp,

whilst he himself with his horse attacked the Spahis (Turkish cavalry).

After scattering the latter, he turned against the Turkish infantry,

the Janissaries, in the rear, but the attack was only a feigned one. As

if fearful of being surrounded, he suddenly began to retreat with his

army to that portion of the valley where the wagon-camp was stationed.

The Janissaries, leaving their protected positions, started with wild

exultation in pursuit of the Hungarians.

 

Hunyadi, having taken up his position at the fortified place in the

narrow valley, directed a side attack against the Turkish horse and

drove them back upon the fighting Janissaries, whose storming of the

wagon fortress was attended with as little success as that of the waves

beating against the solid rock. The Turkish army could not display

its strength, and confusion and wild disorder soon seized the troops.

Their commander, perceiving that it was impossible to save his army,

mounted his horse and galloped away. Fifteen thousand Hungarians were

opposed, on that occasion, to eighty thousand Turks, inured to war,

well trained, and accustomed to victory. The Turkish Janissaries,

whose impenetrable line never broke, were annihilated; the cavalry,

the far-famed Spahis, were scattered; and the whole Turkish army was

in part massacred and in part put to disorderly flight. The meanest

portion only saved themselves by running away; the best of the warriors

perished, for the Turkish troops were by no means lacking in personal

courage. The principal difference between the opponents was that the

Turkish army was usually too confident of victory, and was often led by

incompetent generals, while among the Hungarians discipline prevailed.

Hunyadi, furthermore, not only gave battle according to plans concerted

by his military genius, but understood also, during the tumult and

confusion of the battle, how to execute with his troops rapid and

precise movements. These qualities had decided the present battle, and

were also the secret of his future triumphs.

 

All Europe hailed with joy and admiration the splendid victories of the

Hungarian arms, for the whole Christian world had witnessed with alarm

the extension of the power of the dreaded Osmanlis. Not only Hunyadi

himself, but all his companions in arms, felt that, in inflicting such

heavy losses upon the Turks, they were not defending Hungary alone,

but saving all Christendom from that Turkish rule which had exhibited

a boundless appetite for continental extension. Aware of this state

of things, Hunyadi initiated a policy exceeding in boldness the one

hitherto pursued by him. He appealed to all the rulers of Europe—to

some personally, to others through the king and the pontiff of Rome—to

lend him their aid, and he declared that, if they responded to his

appeal, he was ready to begin an offensive war against the Turks.

 

All Europe received with satisfaction both his plan and request, but

all he could obtain was gracious words and fair promises; aid in any

tangible shape was flowing in but thinly. The Poles (the Hungarian king

Uladislaus being also their king) sent a tolerably large contingent;

in Germany, France, and Bohemia, too, there were many ready to enlist

in a holy war against the unbelieving Turks, as had been formerly

done in the time of the crusaders, and these joined Hunyadi’s camp.

The southern vassal states sent also some forces. The principal

army, however, was still composed of Hunyadi’s Hungarians, which was

joined by the king’s own troops. They may have numbered altogether

forty thousand men. The king himself joined in the offensive campaign

(in July, 1443) and placed himself at the head of the motley army.

His leadership proved an injury rather than an advantage, for the

discipline would have been far more perfect in the army if Hunyadi in

person, with his own men, had taken the lead. The Hungarian general,

nevertheless, defeated the Turks in their own country in four smaller

engagements and in two larger battles. When the Hungarian army

approached the Balkans—the heart of the Turkish empire in Europe—they

were already wading in snow. They nevertheless marched on, undaunted

by the enormous mountains and the impracticable and narrow passes. But

the Turks had already taken up their positions along the difficult

passes, on the mountain tops, and in the passes themselves, in such

a manner that they had made sure of every advantage. Hunyadi quickly

perceived that the position of the sultan behind such entrenchments

and bulwarks was impregnable. Being, therefore, foiled in his desire

to aim an offensive blow at the enemy, he endeavored to entice him

into the plain. In this he succeeded. As he was retreating from the

Balkan passes, slowly and cautiously tracing his way back, the Turkish

army quickly started in his pursuit. The sultan reasoned that the

Hungarian army was, by this time, exhausted with cold, the fatigues,

and the extraordinary exertions, and that it would be an easy matter

to catch them now in their own trap. But he counted without Hunyadi.

When the latter thought the time had come for it, he turned and faced

the enemy. He selected a vantage-ground where the Turkish army could at

no time bring all their forces into play, and must therefore offer to

the Hungarians a chance of beating them in detachments. The struggle

was protracted, for the Turks could afford, to wait. As soon as one

of their generals was defeated, the sultan had him strangled on the

spot, and despatched in his place another general and another army.

The contest went desperately on by the light of the moon. Every one

took part in it; King Uladislaus himself was wounded. The exasperated

Turks, after their ranks had been broken up, did not attempt to fly,

but perished fighting. The commander-in-chief of the sultan’s army was

taken captive.

 

The Hungarian army returned in triumph to Buda. Close upon their heels

followed the sultan’s envoy, begging for peace. All he now asked for

was to be let alone in his own country, and he in turn would not molest

Hungary. This was an important concession, for the faith of the sultans

had heretofore been held to forbid them to enter into a parley with,

and still less to entreat peace of, the infidel Christians. But the

sultan had just now a special reason for peace. Half of his empire had

risen in arms against him—the Albanians in Europe and Mohammedan rebels

in Asia. As usual with states based upon violence, the discontented

rose on all sides at the news of the first lost battle. This was the

effect of Hunyadi’s campaign.

 

The terms of peace offered by the sultan were of the most flattering

and tempting nature. He promised a great deal of money, territory,

mines, and captives. Hunyadi was now in favor of peace; he felt that

he must gather strength. Peace was therefore concluded, the king

swearing by the Gospel and the sultan by the Koran. The ambassadors of

the sultan had hardly left Hungary when Cardinal Julian, the pope’s

nuncio, arrived in the country and declared, in the pontiff’s name, the

oath of Uladislaus, the Hungarian king, to be null and void, adjuring

him, at the same time, by all the saints, to hasten and make use of

this opportunity to annihilate the Turks, and insisting that one so

favorable would never occur again. All Europe’s eyes were upon them,

he added, and all Europe wished to take part in the struggle. And,

indeed, the Christian princes hastened to protest against the peace,

and offered money and soldiers in abundance to continue the war.

 

Meanwhile news arrived that the Italian naval squadron had appeared in

the Turkish waters to intercept the sultan’s crossing over from Asia

to Europe. It was urged that now had come the time to fall upon the

Turkish empire, which was without a master. The papal nuncio summoned

all his eloquence to prove that the peace concluded with the Turk was

not valid, for the word given to an unbeliever was not binding, and God

did not listen to an oath deposited into pagan hands. “All Europe,” he

continued, “scoffed at this peace, and the honor and martial glory of

the Hungarian nation will be like naught if she persisted in keeping

it. It will disgrace her heroic name.”

 

There was no occasion for adding more; the Hungarians had no wish

to be thought cowards, and to this they preferred perjury. They

enthusiastically resolved upon war. Hunyadi alone remained cold; he had