The story of Hungary

by Ármin Vámbéry

The crown of St. Stephen remained in the dynastic family of Árpád for three centuries. The kings of this dynasty erected, upon the foundations laid by the first great king of that house, the proud and enduring structure of the Hungarian Church and State. The liberty of the nation and the independence of the country were maintained by these rulers against the ever-recurring attacks of both the Eastern and Western empires, and the paternal meddling of the popes, as well as against the barbarians invading Europe from the East, whose devastations menaced the complete destruction of every thing that lay in their path.

But while they repulsed with an ever-ready and strong arm all hostile attacks—from whatever quarter they might come—they willingly extended the right hand of friendship and hospitality to those who came to settle in the country with peaceful intentions, and brought with them the valued seeds of Western culture. The Hungarians themselves could be but with difficulty weaned from their ancient customs, and they still continued to be the martial element of the country, inured to war and laying down their lives on fields of battle; but the populations which had emigrated from the West, protected by royal immunities, were the fathers of a busy and prosperous city-life, and laid the foundations of civilization in Hungary. A few monumental memorials, spared by the hand of time, proclaim to this day the artistic taste and wealth of those remote centuries, and the scant words to be found in ancient and decayed parchments speak loudly, and with no uncertain sound, of the cities of that time as busy marts of industrial activity and thriving commerce. From the list of the annual revenues of one of the Árpáds, Béla III., and those of the country in the twelfth century, which was submitted by him when asking for the hand of the daughter of the French king, the civilized West learned with amazement of the enormous wealth of the king ruling near the eastern confines of the Western world. The king’s wealth was but a reflex of the prosperity of the people. During the era of the Árpáds Hungary surpassed many a Western country in power and wealth, and in the work of civilization either kept pace with them or faithfully followed in their footsteps. These three hundred years produced great kings, who, distinguished by their abilities, character, and achievements, made the country strong and flourishing; but this era produced also weak and frivolous rulers, whose faults will forever darken their memory. Posterity, however, cherishes the memory of all with equal piety, and is accustomed to look at the entire period in the light of the lustre of the great kings only. No wonder, therefore, if the ancient chroniclers, in describing the events of that era, are led by their piety to weave into the text gorgeous tales and legends for the purpose of enhancing the glory of the great kings, and of palliating the shortcomings of those kings who were weak and frail.

The history of those three centuries may be divided into three periods. The first, comprising the first two centuries, may be called the heroic period of the young kingdom, in the course of which both the foreign and domestic foes were triumphantly resisted, the attacks of the neighboring nations repulsed, and the risings of paganism quelled. The second comprises the early part of the thirteenth century. During this period the royal power entered upon a state of decay, and was no longer able either to secure respect for the law or the execution of its behests. At this time too the nobility extorted from royalty a charter called the Golden Bull, confirming their immunities. During the third period an oligarchy, recruited from the ranks of the nobility, rose to power, and became the scourge of the nation, defying the royal authority and trampling upon all law. The licentiousness of this class ruined the country, which was then very near becoming a prey of the Mongols, who made an unexpected invasion. The realm, however, was saved from utter destruction by the devotion of one of her great kings and a happy conjuncture of circumstances.

The misgivings which filled Stephen’s soul when he closed his eyes in eternal sleep soon proved to have been well founded. Four years had hardly elapsed after his death when the armies of the German emperor were already marching on Hungary, and in another four years paganism arose in a formidable rebellion, with the avowed purpose of destroying the new church and kingdom.

Peter (1038-1046), Stephen’s successor, who was of foreign descent and of a proud and frivolous nature, despised the rude and uncivilized Hungarians. He surrounded himself with foreigners, German and Italian immigrants, who divided amongst themselves the chief dignities of the State, preyed upon the prosperity of the country, and ruined the morals of the people. The nation did not tolerate his misrule very long. The fierce hatred and exasperation with which they looked at every thing foreign found its vent against Peter, whom they drove from the country and then elected in his place one of their own nation, Samuel Aba (1041-1044), the late king’s brother-in-law. Peter did not renounce his lost power, but asked the help of the German emperor, which he readily obtained. The Emperor Henry III. opened with his German troops the way to the forfeited throne, and Samuel Aba, who marched against him, having fallen on the battle-field, Peter for the second time had the crown of St. Stephen placed on his brow, but this time he took the oath of fealty to the German emperor. Thus did Hungary for the moment become a vassal state of the German empire. But the vassalage was short, for hardly had the emperor withdrawn from the country when the passionate wrath of the nation rose higher than ever against Peter. This time, however, the wrath was not alone against his person, but menaced destruction to every thing opposed to the ancient order of things, and produced a bitter contest against both Christianity and the royal dignity. Peter would have fain escaped now from his persecutors, but he was captured, thrown into prison, and deprived of his sight, and then, from the depth of his misery, he vainly bewailed the giddiness which had conjured up the storm of passions that had deprived him of his throne, his eyesight, and liberty.

THE PEOPLE, SEDUCED BY VATHA, CLAIM THE RE-ESTABLISHMENT OF PAGANISM.

The leader of the pagan rebellion was Vatha. At his command firebrands were thrown into the churches and monasteries, the crosses were demolished, and every thing proclaiming the new faith was reduced to ruins; and by his advice ambassadors were sent to the dukes of the house of Árpád, who, after Stephen’s death, had sought refuge in foreign countries, to summon them to return to the country and restore there the old order. King Andrew I. (1046-1061), to whom the supreme power had been offered, and who, during his exile in Russia, had married the daughter of the Prince of Kiev, immediately obeyed the summons, not, however to submit to the behests of paganism, but to rule in accordance with the principles and in the spirit of his illustrious kinsman, King Stephen. For a while, indeed, he was compelled to bear with the outbreaks, massacres, and devastations of paganism, but as soon as he felt secure in his new power, and especially after having taken up his residence in Stuhlweissenburg, then the capital of the country, where he was able to collect around him the Christian inhabitants of the West, who lived there in large numbers, he at once turned his arms against the pagan rebels. He dispersed their armies, captured their leaders, and crushed the rebellion with merciless severity.

The double cross shone out again triumphantly, but the crown was still menaced by danger. After the defeat of paganism the Emperor Henry III. sent envoys to Andrew, asking satisfaction for the cruelties inflicted upon Peter and calling upon the king to renew the oath of fealty to the emperor of Germany. Andrew felt that unless he maintained the independence of the country, and the dignity of the crown, he incurred the risk of losing the throne itself. He therefore rejected Henry’s claims and prepared for the defence of the country. At the same time he summoned home his brother Béla (Adalbert) who, during his exile in Poland, had won high distinction as a soldier, and had obtained, as a reward for his military services, the hand of a daughter of Miecislas. Andrew himself was in ill-health, and he did not care to face the brewing storm single-handed. He wanted to have at his side the powerful arm of his brave and mighty brother, whose very appearance was sufficient to inspire the distressed nation with confidence and hope. He gave Béla one third of the realm, and, being childless, promised him the crown after his decease. Neither Andrew nor the nation were disappointed in Duke Béla, who was believed by the people to be irresistible. It was in vain that Henry III. collected the entire armed force of the empire, and three times in succession (1049-1052) threw this force upon Hungary. In each campaign Duke Béla succeeded in dealing deadly blows upon the invaders. His triumph was so complete that the emperor was compelled to solemnly proclaim peace, again acknowledging the independence of the kingdom.

The nation was not permitted long to enjoy the peace following her almost miraculous escape. Domestic dissensions took the place of the dangers threatening from abroad, and this time the feuds did not originate with the people, but with the royal family itself. All the glory of the important results of the German wars, of the driving the enemy from the country, and of her happy escape from the besetting dangers, centred in the person of Duke Béla. The nation looked with love and admiration upon the knightly form of their favorite, and his popularity was so great that it quite overshadowed that of Andrew, notwithstanding all his kingly power. Andrew’s feelings were deeply hurt by the popularity of his brother, nor could he help being terrified by it. But it was not his brother’s popularity alone which troubled him. During the war a son had been born to Andrew, who was christened Solomon. Andrew now repented of his promise to Béla. He wished his infant son to succeed to the throne, and in order to insure it to him, he caused Solomon to be crowned in spite of his tender age. Not satisfied with this, but fearing that Béla, aggrieved by these proceedings, might rise against Solomon at some future time, he betrothed his little son to the daughter of the recently humbled emperor, in order to secure for Solomon the powerful aid of the German empire against Béla’s attacks. Every movement of Andrew was dictated by fear, and he saw cause for trembling in every thing. What troubled him most was that Béla had never breathed a word about his griefs or wrongs. Andrew would often ask himself whether Béla was candid in his apparent indifference, or whether, under the cover of this calm repose, he was not concocting dangerous schemes against him and young Solomon. He determined to put Béla’s candor to the proof. He had been ailing, and made his feeble condition a pretext for inviting his brother to the court. He received Béla with kindly words, confided to him his misgivings, appealed to his generosity, and repeatedly assured him that he did not intend to defraud him of his rights by the acts done in favor of his son Solomon. Andrew concluded by saying that he left it to Béla to decide whether he would rather succeed to the throne after his own death, or be satisfied to remain at the side of young Solomon as the military chief of the nation and the protector of the realm. The old chronicles relate that Andrew, having finished his sweet speech, caused to be placed before Béla the royal crown and a sword, calling upon him to choose between the two. “I take the sword,” exclaimed Béla, unable to conceal his indignation, “for if I coveted the crown, I could always obtain it with the sword.”