The story of Hungary

by Ármin Vámbéry

HUNYAD CASTLE.

In his time, during the fifteenth century, through all Europe, and especially in Hungary, that man was most respected who had earned the repute of a distinguished soldier. If any one wished to become conspicuous amongst his countrymen he had to be, first of all, an able general and a military hero. According to the views of that day, only he was looked upon as a true man who was a free man, or, in the nomenclature of that period, a noble man, but every noble was a born soldier, and soldiering was both his duty and privilege. Martial merit was recognized as the only real merit, and military service as the only honorable occupation. By this means every man had the chance of becoming the possessor of land, and of acquiring nobility, for bravery was rewarded by the king with a grant of lands, and with the rank of a noble. As a consequence wars were longed for by many. The common man (or as he was then styled, the bondman) hoped to acquire land and to be created a noble, the noble to add to his landed estate, and to rise in rank. The more land a noble owned, and the greater the number of his bondmen, the larger the number of the soldiers he was able to equip, and the greater the military power wielded by him, the better his prospects of promotion to a higher position in the state, in society, and about the person of his king. The first games of childhood were martial games, and the first tasks of youth were military tasks.

Such, no doubt, had also been the early training of John Hunyadi; by such means he rose, acquired a large fortune, and was able to support a great army. In truth, however, there is no information whatever extant as to his early education, for when he first entered upon the stage of war, in 1437, he was already an accomplished general. In this year the Turkish sultan, who was constantly attacking, harassing, and laying waste the vassal states of Hungary, Bosnia, Servia, Wallachia, and Bulgaria, turned his arms against Servia. The general of the Hungarian king met the enemy near the fortress of Semendria, where the decisive battle was to be fought. During this engagement a knight with a coat of arms, familiar to no one, made his appearance. A black raven, holding a gold ring in his beak, was painted on his shield. Never before had they witnessed fighting as gallant as that of the Raven Knight at the head of his small troop. He was seen now in one place, now in another, but wherever he showed himself the enemy either fled before him or was slain. To the Hungarians it seemed as if the god of war himself had descended to fight under their banners, and they were seized with wild enthusiasm. The Turkish general, with the remnant of his army, fled in dismay, and from this day forward the name of the raven knight continued to be the terror of Turkish warriors. This mysterious knight was John Hunyadi. To be sure, men like Pongrácz, Szentmiklóssy, Thalloczy, or Maróthy, had before this day proved themselves heroes in the many struggles against the Turks. After this memorable battle, however, the splendor of Hunyadi’s name dimmed the glory of all. With the people, whose chief delight was martial exploits, and in whose eyes the Turks were the most dreadful enemy of their country, his prestige increased from year to year. For Hunyadi, like his powerful antagonist the Turk, never knew what it was to rest. No other enemy was like this one he had to cope with. The Turkish state was so organized that it could not exist without fresh conquests and incessant wars. The Janissaries wanted occupation and glory, the mounted Spahis new lands, the immense hordes which marched at the distance of a day’s walk in advance of the Turkish army were hungry after booty, and the sultans themselves longed to win fresh conquests and military glory against the infidels, as the followers of the cross were styled by them.

An enemy like this was a most dangerous neighbor. It is true that Hungary was divided from the Turkish empire by her vassal states, Bulgaria, Wallachia, Servia, and Bosnia, but the Turkish sultans already looked upon these territories as their own, and were constantly organizing inroads into Hungary from them. Hunyadi had passed his early life near the border; and, accustomed to the perpetual fighting going on there, he was also familiarized with the magnitude of the danger. With an iron will he determined to devote his whole strength to the struggle against the Turks. By his gallantry he gradually acquired the fortune necessary for this purpose, for the kings were lavish in granting to him again and again large estates as a compensation for his bravery. Nor was he wanting in opportunities against the Turks, for, having been successively created Count of Temes, ban of Szörény, and vayvode of Transylvania, it became his duty to defend the border with the money and army placed in his hands. If the Turks appeared at any point on a marauding expedition, or to provoke hostilities, Hunyadi was quick to meet them at once, and did not rest until he had achieved victory.

In one such expedition, Ishak, the pasha of Semendria, fared badly. This overbearing Turk, issued from the fortress of Semendria, and, having overrun the country, left behind him nothing but desolation and the tears of widows and orphans. Hunyadi, with a small troop, started in his pursuit, and, coming up with him, he took away from him the prisoners and the booty he had captured, and drove him and his army back to the very walls of Semendria. The sultan, upon hearing the news of this defeat, at once despatched Mezid Bey with an army of 80,000 men against Hunyadi. Orders were issued to destroy every thing—property and human life alike; neither the young nor the old nor the women were to be spared. Hunyadi was well informed as to the enemy’s movements. He knew that in this campaign the special aim would be to kill or capture him, for his person stood almost alone in the way of the Sultan’s conquests and glory. The Turkish commander offered, on the eve of the battle, an enormous reward to the soldier who would succeed in capturing Hunyadi. This critical occasion showed not only the importance attributed to Hunyadi’s person by the Turks, but also the great love with which he was surrounded and the degree to which he was idolized by his soldiers and comrades. One of the latter, Simon Kemény, who knew of the intentions of the enemy, urgently begged his leader to exchange with him horses and accoutrements. Hunyadi at first refused, but finally yielded to Kemény’s entreaties and handed him over his military equipments.

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.