The story of Hungary 7

The story of Hungary 7

CHAPTER IV.

 

THE REIGN OF THE DUKES.

 

 

Árpád, called by the Greek writers Arpadis, was the first ruler of

Hungary, who laid the foundations of the present kingdom, and whose

statesmanlike sagacity may well excite admiration, considering that

under his lead a strictly Asiatic nation succeeded in penetrating into

the very interior of Christian Europe and moulding a state out of

the heterogeneous elements of old Pannonia. For this reason we find

it improper to call him a rude barbarian, as contemporary Christian

writers are in the habit of doing. He evidently was penetrated with

the Persian culture and his Oriental statesmanship not only equalled

but even surpassed the political ideas of the ruling men at that time

at the head of affairs in Pannonia and Eastern Germany. Arriving, as

he did, with a restless and adventurous nomadic people; he could not

mitigate at once the martial rudeness of the latter. Like other Turkish

and Mongolian masses the Hungarians, very soon after the occupation of

the country, rushed out into the neighboring lands to gratify their

lust of adventure and booty. They penetrated into Germany, spreading

terror and devastation everywhere. On a larger scale was their

inroad into Italy in 899, where King Berengar was defeated on the

banks of the Brenta. Twenty thousand Italians were slain, the wealthy

cities of Milan, Pavia, and Brescia were plundered, and the invaders

crossed even the Po. It was only by the payment of a large ransom that

the Italians could free themselves from the scourge of these Asiatic

conquerors. Encouraged by this success the Hungarians, in the following

year, entered Germany, trying their arms with varying fortune, until

a common decision of the chieftains arrested these incursions. In 907

the nation was saddened by a mournful event. The ruler who had founded

the new empire, who for nearly twenty years had directed the destinies

of the nation with so much wisdom and energy, and in whom the glory

of great statesmanship and generalship was united, had ceased to be

amongst the living. His body was, according to ancient custom, burned

and his ashes buried near a brook flowing at that time in a pebbly bed

towards Etzelburg, the Old-Buda of to-day. His grateful descendants,

after the introduction of Christianity, erected on that spot a church,

called the White Church of the Virgin, in commemoration of the immortal

prince. He was succeeded by his son Zoltán, who had to seize the reins

at a comparatively tender age, and who was therefore assisted by three

governors. This circumstance encouraged the neighboring princes to

fall upon Hungary in order to drive the new conquerors out of the

country. Luitpold, Duke of Bavaria, and Ditmar, Archbishop of Salzburg,

together with others, led the united army in three different columns,

flattering themselves with the hope that, imitating the tactics of

Charlemagne against the Avars, they would be as successful as that

famous ruler of the Franks.

 

[Illustration: ÁRPÁD TAKES POSSESSION OF HUNGARY.]

 

The Hungarians, menaced by such an imminent danger, concentrated all

their forces to resist the onslaught. Always quick to resolve and as

quick in their movements, they anticipated the attack, and the two

hostile armies met in 907 in the environs of Presburg. The struggle

on both sides was a bitter one. The zeal of the Germans, on the one

hand, was excited by the prospect of ridding themselves and the whole

Occident of the disagreeable neighborhood of these dangerous intruders,

whilst with the Hungarians, on the other hand, it was a question of

self-preservation, for in case of a defeat they had every thing at

stake. The latter, therefore, fought with the utmost vehemence, not in

regular battle array, after the German fashion, but with their storming

divisions, furious attacks, feigned retreats, and renewed onslaughts,

their arrows and javelins descending every time like a hail-storm, they

broke through the serried ranks of the Germans and rode down every

thing that was in their way. The sun rose and set three times over the

heads of the fighting armies before the great battle was decided. The

Germans were hopelessly defeated. Duke Luitpold lost his life fighting,

and with him the Archbishop of Salzburg, as well as most of the

bishops, abbots, and counts, laid down their lives during those three

fatal days.

 

It was but natural that, encouraged by this successful battle, the

Hungarians should eagerly continue their marauding expeditions in

every direction into Germany and even France. Dividing into small

bands, just as the Turcomans used to do up to quite recent times in

Persia, the Hungarians infested the whole of Saxony and Thuringia,

and penetrated as far as Bremen. They crossed the Rhine, flooded a

part of France, and quick as were their inroads, no less promptly did

they return, always laden with rich booty and driving before them a

long file of slaves of both sexes. The entire Occident was continually

harassed by them, and this gave rise to those dire misrepresentations

of the Hungarians and to the execrations against them which could be

heard all over the western world during the tenth century, and which

were faithfully copied into the chronicles of that time. In these

chronicles they were charged with devouring the hearts of their enemies

in order to render themselves irresistible in battle. Signs in the

heavens were said to herald their approach. Virgins devoted to the

service of God foretold the irruptions of the Hungarians and their own

martyrdom. Mere human power seemed hopeless against them; the litanies

of that time, therefore, abound in special prayers asking for the

protection of the Lord. Impartial history easily recognizes in all this

partly exaggerations, partly outbreaks of dismay, and the effects of

fright, but these utterances, overdrawn as they are, contribute much

to our knowledge of the violence of the struggle between the western

Christians and the Asiatic Hungarians. Quite differently and by no

means so dreadfully are the Hungarians described by the Byzantine

historians. Their reputation for ferocity, and the knowledge of the

terror they inspired, enhanced their valor and audacity. Neglecting

all precautionary measures, and undervaluing their enemies, they began

to meet here and there with small disasters, and, as the Germans on

the other hand, becoming familiar with their mode of warfare, and more

accustomed to the strange appearance of Asiatic warriors, grew bolder

and bolder, we may easily account for the turn which gradually took

place in the war fortunes of the Magyars. It was Henry the Fowler, King

of Germany, who, after making preparations for nine years, inflicted

the first heavy loss upon the Hungarian adventurers near Merseburg

in 933. The Germans rushed into the battle with the cry of “Kyrie

eleyson,” whilst the Hungarians were wildly shouting “Hooy, Hooy.” The

Saxon horsemen caught up the Hungarian arrows with their shields, and

in solid ranks threw themselves in fierce onset upon the Hungarians.

The latter perceived with surprise and dismay that they were opposed by

a well-organized enemy. During the hand-in-hand fight which now ensued

the Germans achieved victory by their determined bravery. A great

many Hungarians fell in the fight, and many more were killed during

their retreat. The number of killed is assumed to have been thirty-six

thousand. The Hungarian camp with all the baggage fell into the hands

of the victors. Henry commanded that a universal thanksgiving feast

should be observed throughout the whole of Germany, and ordered that

the tribute hitherto paid to the Hungarians should be divided between

the churches and the poor.

 

The Hungarians now refrained from entering Germany in a northern

direction, but the more frequent and more vehement grew their

irruptions into Bavaria and also into the northern portion of the

Byzantine empire. It was the old lust of conquest and adventure, and

greediness for booty which spurred their activity. Duke Taksony, who

succeeded his father Zoltán in 946, and reigned until 972, was animated

by the same lawless spirit, and the Hungarians would have continued

to be the scourge of the neighboring countries if the defensive

measures taken by the Germans about this time had not acted as a dam

against their devastating flood. In the year 955, on the river Lech,

near Augsburg, King Otto the Great inflicted a terrible defeat upon

the Hungarians—a defeat by which nearly the whole of the Hungarian

army, numbering forty thousand men was annihilated. Their generals,

Bulcsee and Lehel were captured; the chains of gold they wore around

their necks, as well as other trinkets of gold and silver, were taken

from them, and at last they were carried to Ratisbon, and were made

to suffer a disgraceful death by being hanged. A part of their fellow

captives were buried alive, whilst the others were tortured to death

in the most cruel manner. The remainder of the army was destroyed in

its retreat by the people who had everywhere risen, and, according to

tradition, but seven were left to reach their homes. The Magyars, a

proud nation even in their misfortune, were so incensed against these

fugitives for having preferred a cowardly flight to a heroic death,

that they were scornfully nicknamed the _Melancholy Magyars_, and

condemned to servitude. Even their descendants wandered about through

the land as despised beggars.

 

A tradition has survived amongst the people to this day, about the

death of Lehel and his reputed ivory bugle-horn, upon which there

are carved representations of battles. It is true that archæological

inquiry has proved its sculpture to be of Roman workmanship and that it

was a drinking-cup rather than a bugle. The legend, however, as still

current amongst the Hungarians, deserves to be told for the sake of its

romantic character.

 

Amidst the confusion and wild disorder incident upon the disastrous

battle of Augsburg, Duke Lehel found no time to give thought to his

battle-horn. His horse had been killed under him, and whilst he lay

buried beneath it the trusty sword was wrenched from the hand of the

hero before he could pierce his own heart with it. Taken prisoner he

was led captive into the presence of the victorious Otto.

 

Princely judges sat in judgment on the princely captive and condemned

him to death. This sentence caused Lehel no pain; he felt he had

deserved it, not, indeed, for having given battle but for losing it.

Yet it hurt him to the soul to see the rebel Conrad seated amongst his

judges, the traitor who had invited the Hungarians to enter Germany,

and who, by his defection, had caused their defeat. The success of his

dastardly desertion had, however, conciliated the victors and restored

him to their confidence.

 

Lehel begged but for one favor, and that was to be allowed to wind the

horn, his faithful and inseparable friend, once more, and to sound on

it his funeral dirge. The horn was handed to him. He sounded it for the

last time; and, as he drew from it the sad strains which sounded far

and wide and were mournfully re-echoed by the distant hills, the dying

warrior on the field of Lech lifted up his head, eagerly listening to

the familiar bugle, and the soul which had come back to him, for one

instant, took wings again as soon as the sad strains died away. The

dying music, plaintively quivering, told the tale of an inglorious

death terminating an heroic life. The very henchmen were listening with

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