The story of Hungary

by Ármin Vámbéry

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 no faith in big words and promises. But he was compelled to obey the commands of his king. He collected about 20,000 men, and with these he again marched into the Turkish empire. The famous European contribution had dwindled down to a few hundred soldiers and a few thousand florins, but it was hoped that many of the discontented would join them on their march. And, indeed, the vayvode of Wallachia joined them with about 10,000 men, but he could not help remarking to the king with regard to the forces of Sultan Mura, that the latter was in the habit of surrounding himself when on a hunting expedition with a retinue more numerous than the entire Hungarian army. It was, however, too late to think of drawing back.

And now bad news came crowding in; it seemed as if good fortune had altogether deserted the Hungarians. The Prince of Servia refused to join them. The Albanians failed in their attempt to cut their way to the Hungarians, and what seemed most incredible of all, the Italian naval squadron, whose task it was to have been to hinder the sultan’s crossing over to Europe, had itself carried over the Turk for good money. The Hungarians were left alone and forsaken in the foreign country. There was reason enough now for retreating, and there were some who counselled retreat. It was Hunyadi’s turn now to interfere. He declared that he did not fear the Turks under any circumstances, and if they had got so far they were bound to engage them in battle by beginning the attack themselves. As soon as Hunyadi came to the fore, confidence was at once restored; his person inspired the army with courage, and they continued their march against the Turks. The two opposing armies met near Varna, on the 10th of November, 1444. The sultan had pitched his tent on the top of a hill, and near it he had the document, upon which the treaty of peace was written, hoisted on a pole. He had with him more than 100,000 men ready for the fray. But the order of battle of the Hungarian army was again most admirable, such as could only be suggested by the lofty genius of Hunyadi. To every man was assigned his part and place, nor was any exception made in this respect in favor of the king. He obtained a post where no danger could reach him, and Hunyadi solemnly engaged him not to leave his place until he himself would call upon him to do so.

The battle now commenced. Hunyadi with his reserve horse-troop went wherever there was most danger, assisting, encouraging, and commanding. The first set-to took place between the cavalry. The struggle did not last long; the brilliant Turkish cavalry was put to flight in disorder. At this desperate sight the sultan put spurs to his horse, and turning its head was about to leave the battle-field, but the commanders near him seized the bridle of his horse, and menaced him with death if he did not go on with the battle. The sultan, taking courage again, ordered fresh troops into the fight, and the battle began to rage with renewed fury. In the midst of the sanguinary contest the two hostile leaders met face to face. Karafi Bey, his eyes sparkling, fell upon Hunyadi, and lifted his sword, but before he could strike a blow he slid from his horse pierced to the heart. The fall of their leader was the signal for the wild flight of the Turkish horse.

The Polish banner-bearers, surrounding the king, were envious witnesses of Hunyadi’s victory, and urged Uladislaus, who was hardly able to restrain his youthful ardor, to participate in the engagement, by representing to him that victory was already assured, that he should not leave all the glory to Hunyadi, and that he should, at least, draw his sword and show himself a hero worthy of the double crown.

The king, forgetting his promise, accompanied by the banner of the country, made straight for the Janissaries, who had, as yet, hardly been in the fight. Hunyadi immediately saw the king’s movement, and followed him as swiftly as he could. Upon this the king penetrated more deeply still into the ranks of the Janissaries, Hunyadi being unable now to cut his way to his sovereign. The king’s companions succumbed one after the other. At last a Janissary succeeded in creeping up close to the king’s horse, and striking at the horse’s feet with his sword, he brought it down. Horse and rider fell, and the king was instantly despatched. The mad fray lasted a few minutes longer, when suddenly the pale head of the king, in his silver helmet, stuck on a pike, became visible. At this sight the Hungarian army and their leaders lost their senses, and the campaign came to a sudden end. The victorious Hungarians became fugitives, and Hunyadi himself returned to his home a lonely wanderer. The sultan, in surveying the bloody battle-field, exclaimed: “I wish my enemies only a victory like this.” The Turks were not in a condition to pursue the defeated Hungarians.