The story of Hungary

by Ármin Vámbéry

Brilliant as were the embassies sent by Matthias to foreign courts, he was no less gratified by the arrival of missions to his own, which were looked upon as a sort of holiday event. The king himself was inclined to be liberal if he wished to do honor to any one. There were, besides, gathered about his person a motley crowd of Hungarian, German, and Czech magnates, prelates and nobles, attentive to every command of his. Then there were the court attendants amounting to many hundreds, and all these persons required but a nod from the king to devote themselves to the preparation of a brilliant reception. They were quick to don their sumptuous and costly dresses, they brandished their weapons inlaid with precious stones, they pranced on their steeds caparisoned in colored silk and velvet, and, attended by an army of courtiers and servants, clad in garments representing all the colors of the rainbow, the procession went out amid the blast of horns, to meet the ambassador and to escort him to the court. In 1487, John Valentini, the envoy from the court of Ferrara, in Italy, and in 1488, Melchior Russ, the Swiss envoy, were honored by receptions of this kind. In December, 1479, John Anagarini, the papal cardinal ambassador, was received with the greatest imaginable pomp, by the king in person, who, attended by his church and lay dignitaries, came out to meet him at three o’clock in the morning. Thousands of wax torches shed a light as broad as day over the dark and wintry scene. Three days after the arrival of the cardinal the solemn audience took place. The king appeared in his royal robes, surrounded by the highest dignitaries of the court, and by the church and lay magnates, all sumptuously dressed. The king well understood the art of astonishing and dazzling his visitors by the dignity of his presence and by the display of lavish pomp.

RUINS OF VISEGRÁD.

Upon one occasion he was staying at Visegrád, his splendid palace a short distance from Buda, when the sultan’s ambassador arrived. It gratified the pride of Matthias to dazzle the eyes of the Turkish envoy, who was accustomed to the brilliant surroundings of the sultan, with the splendor of his own court. Visegrád, which was called by the contemporaries “an earthly paradise,” fully suited his purpose. The envoy and his train were brought from their city quarters to the royal castle, in order to be admitted to the solemn audience with the king. As the gates of the castle were thrown open a gorgeous spectacle met their eyes. The king stood on an eminence of one of his hanging gardens. Around him, above and below him, were grouped the great of the land and his courtiers, clad in silk, velvet, gold, and silver robes, with shining arms. At this unexpected sight the envoy was struck with awe. In confusion he drew nearer, but as his eyes met the proud look of the king he became so embarrassed that he lost the command of his voice, and was only able to stammer out, after a pause: “The padishah greets you, the padishah greets you.” The king, perceiving his painful hesitation, had him led back to his quarters. After the lapse of a few days he was conducted again into the king’s presence, who, after having bestowed upon the envoy rich presents, sent him back to his master with the proud message to “send another time an ambassador who, at least, can speak.”

Of such a nature were the audiences granted to foreign envoys. The audiences granted to his own subjects lacked, of course, the pomp and pageant of the former, but the king was particularly careful and painstaking in the treatment of the matters thus brought before him. This was more especially the case during the beginning of his reign. His first wife, the daughter of the Czech king, whom he had married in 1458, died a few years afterwards, leaving him a widower, and the ceremonial of the court, in the absence of a queen, admitted of an unrestrained intercourse with his people. But he married again in 1476 the daughter of the king of Naples, Princess Beatrice. With her presence Italian etiquette and formality began to prevail in the royal court, and free access to the king’s person became more and more difficult. In his youth the business of his doorkeepers was but scant, for the doors stood wide open for the petitioners, who were kindly received by the young king. Nor was the number of these small, for the king’s fame as a friend to justice had spread all over the country. A whole army of petitioners, from the great lord to the simple peasant, frequently besieged the doors of the audience hall, for Matthias was known to treat them all with uniform affability. He attentively listened to and duly weighed the petitions and complaints of all. This was a matter of great importance at a time when a privileged class, the nobles, were the masters of the property of the numerous peasantry, and frequently held control even of their lives. The laws at that period were both loose and defective, and the judges could, with impunity, either misinterpret or distort their meaning to the injury of the suitor. Besides, in that age nearly every noble had a train amounting to a small army, and the temptation proved frequently irresistible to be his own judge and to treat the weaker party as he pleased. Such was then the condition of things all over Europe.

The most efficacious remedy for these evils was a king just and strong, who was not loth to inquire into abuses and was ready to lend the weight of his kingly command and of armed force against the recalcitrant. Matthias was a ruler equal to such a task. Many excellent laws were introduced during his reign, and he had both the sense of justice and the power to enforce them. The very knowledge of the existence of such a final appeal greatly improved the administration of justice, for every one was aware that the king was a man of his word, and that his threats were not empty utterances, but were sure to be followed by swift and severe punishment. He was as quick in disposing of the matters submitted to him as he was careful in their consideration. If he ever delayed affairs they were mostly connected with important questions of state, diplomacy, and finances, requiring caution in their management. On such occasions he was master in the art of keeping silent, and might have excited the envy of the craftiest Italian diplomatist by his wariness. His mind was not easily open to extraneous influences; he liked to get at the bottom of all complaints and accusations by personal investigation. He brought into the management of civil affairs the habits exhibited by him on the battle-field; he was always inspecting and investigating. It was a matter of frequent occurrence with the king to go among the people in disguise in order to study their characters and dispositions, to learn their complaints and troubles, and, if possible, to give at once a helping-hand. During these expeditions he strayed unknown into the villages, exposing himself frequently to the overbearing treatment of a village judge, a landed noble, or a constable, and even to occasional blows, but if he afterwards got hold of the guilty parties he showed them on his part no mercy. In his disguise he was indifferent to the scoffs and gibes levelled at him; he rather enjoyed the incongruous and comical plights he often found himself in, but at the same time he was apt to give and to take a joke. Of course the king always laughed last, when the disgraced culprits, after being punished, ruefully slunk away. He was, as a general thing, very fond of good-natured intrigues, and liked to season even graver matters with a bit of pleasantry.

To the secret denunciations of eavesdroppers the king, unlike many of his royal contemporaries, never listened, preferring to trust to his own eyes and ears only. This manly straightforwardness inspired all his actions, and was instrumental in causing him to arrive at the truth and to do justice, and obtained for him among the people, even in his lifetime, the name of “the just.” The memory of his fame for justice has survived to this day in the current popular saying: “King Matthias is dead, justice has fled!” Although as a soldier and statesman crafty and full of expedients, and even loving disguise in contact with his people, he never was treacherous and deceitful. Poisoning and assassination did not enter into his catalogue of expedients as it did into the policy and practice of his contemporary, the French king, Louis XI., or the Italian princes, the Estes, Sforzas, the Borgias, and the popes themselves, who employed both as a favorite means for accomplishing political objects. All unclean means were repugnant to his frank and knightly nature, as was evinced by the following instance. While he was engaged in war, in 1463, against George Podiebrad, the Czech king, he was approached by a man who offered to take George’s life in armed combat for a reward of five thousand florins. The king, knowing the difficulties of the enterprise, at once consented, promising even a larger amount in case of success. This man, after lurking for a long while about the person of King George, despaired of being able to carry out his fell design, for the king was surrounded by the finest soldiers of the period, and to attack him, under those circumstances, would have been equivalent to forfeiting his own life. He therefore proposed to King Matthias to remove the Czech king by poison. The king indignantly refused to profit by the assassin’s offer, proudly exclaiming: “We are in the habit of fighting with arms and not with poison!” At the same time he sent a message to the Czech king putting him on his guard against the attempt to take his life by poison, and cautioning him not to partake of any food or drink unless it was first tested by one of his trusty men.

With views like these it was natural that King Matthias should not be accessible to any fear of poison or assassination. It was secretly intimated to him at one time that his courtiers intended mixing poison with his food. Upon hearing this he exclaimed: “Let no king ruling justly and lawfully fear the poison and assassin’s dagger of his subjects.” His capacity for government was particularly shown in the right selection and thorough appreciation of men, and in the independence which he always maintained. This trait of character became at once evident on his ascent to the throne. Being only fifteen years of age he was deemed too young for the burden of government, and a governor and state-councillors were placed by his side. But he felt equal to the duties of his royal office, and determined to take the reins of government in his own hands. In this scheme, however, he saw both his friends and his enemies arrayed against him. The former, the adherents of old Hunyadi, to whose services he owed his throne, wished to superintend his education, to guard him against dangers, and to maintain at the same time their influence over him. His enemies, on the other hand, true to the instincts of their inveterate hostility to the Hunyadi family, after having first opposed his aspirations to the throne and afterwards intrigued against him, were glad of an opportunity to balk him in his wishes, and therefore they now sided against him, and soon after openly declared for Frederic, the German emperor.

The position of the young king was an exceedingly critical one; his foreign enemies, too, the Turks, Germans, and Czechs, began open opposition and, what was most discouraging of all, the treasury was empty. But he surprised everybody by the independence and circumspect conduct with which he met both friends and foes, and also the difficulties threatening from abroad. His astute questions and ready replies in conversation were the theme of universal admiration. It was thought that, being a youth, he would busy himself with empty trifles, and give little thought to his royal responsibilities. His partisans had hoped to be called upon to instruct him in the art of government, whilst his enemies had anticipated that, unmindful of his kingly duties, he would very soon be ruined. But he disappointed both. In the council chamber he listened attentively when any of the lords spoke, but as soon as their views diverged and threatened to degenerate into a heated discussion, it was he, the youth, whom they had met to advise, who admonished them to be calm and to agree. His enemies saw that the youth was thoroughly conscious of the exaltedness of his position, which placed him above his adherents as well as his enemies, and they now tried every means to create dissensions between him and his partisans. In this they failed, for the king was on his guard. Knowing his difficult position, he took pains to conciliate his friends. In the treatment of them he was both determined and smooth. In conversation he first ascertained the views of those to whom he spoke, and then shaped his own remarks accordingly. He had the talent of persuading his antagonists without seeming to do so, and of getting them to share his views, and as he was quick to discover the opinions of others, he was not liable to being imposed upon. By slow degrees all opposition to him died out and both friend and foe were silenced.