JELLACHICH SQUARE, AGRAM.
Within this brilliant network of royal palaces pulsated the busy court life, with a frequent exhibition of exceptional gayeties and splendid feasts. The court was always thronged with the relatives of the king, with captains of the highest rank, and with hundreds of courtiers, from the chancellor down to the humble attendant, and great lords and high prelates, with their courtly trains, gathered around the king, hoping for advancement of one kind or other. The court was also a favorite resort for foreign diplomatists, who came for the purpose of settling questions relating to politics, church, or family concerns, and delivering messages of respect and homage to the king, whose strong arm was able to restrain and check the Turks, the Germans, and the roving bands of marauders. By degrees the Hungarian court took on a European, or cosmopolitan air, becoming more and more refined, gaining also the repute of being a seat of classical learning and culture. There was both compliment and truth in the remark made to King Matthias by his antagonist, Uladislaus, the Czech king, at one of the brilliant feasts given by the former: “Your Majesty, it is difficult to triumph over a king who is the possessor of so much treasure.”
It was a great misfortune that Matthias died without leaving a son to succeed him, for all the accumulated splendor and culture vanished with the king who had introduced and developed them. It was at the zenith of his glorious career, while he was pondering on far-reaching plans for the future, that death surprised him. On Palm Sunday of the year 1490 he attended divine service, and, on returning from church, he was suddenly seized with extreme lassitude. He at once called for figs. They were brought, but on finding them mouldy, he angrily rejected them. Soon after he was overcome by dizziness, and a fit of an apoplectic character deprived him of the power of speech and memory. He expired on the 6th of April, after an illness prolonged for two days.
CHAPTER XI.
THE PERIOD OF NATIONAL DECLINE, AND THE DISASTROUS BATTLE OF MOHÁCS.
We are now approaching one of the darkest pages in the history of Hungary. The nation which but thirty-five years before had occupied a commanding position in the world, had, within that short space of time, sunk so low as to become merely a bone of contention for foreign princes. The concluding act of that sad era was the calamitous battle fought on the field of Mohács, where were expiated the many national sins which had brought about this sorrowful state of things.
The period following the death of the great king was marked by feeble rulers; by hierarchical chiefs, unmindful of their duties; by an oligarchy acknowledging no restraints; by a military organization rotten to the core; and by discontented subjects. So rapidly did the fame of the nation decline that we find Erasmus of Rotterdam envying their king, Louis, the possession, not of his kingdom, but of an eminent teacher (Jacob Piso) then living there. The power of the king was even at a lower ebb than that of the nation. We find, for instance, John Szapolyai (or Zápolya), the head of the oligarchy, daring to attack King Uladislaus at the latter’s own palace at Buda, in order to force from him the hand of Anna, his daughter. King Louis, the successor of Uladislaus, was told to his face by Thomas Bakacs, one of his councillors, at a meeting of the National Assembly, that, unless he acted according to the wishes of his councillors, and listened to their advice, they would drive him from the country, and elect another king in his place. These incidents clearly denote the character of the rulers, and of the leading men of the nation, whose province it was to defend the country against an enemy which the great Hunyadis themselves had hardly been able to withstand, namely, the Turkish power, and the ruinous effects of their misrule became evident soon enough. In rapid succession followed one loss of territory after another, coupled with loss of prestige abroad, and civil strife within, and shortly afterwards came the crowning disgrace of the Turkish yoke. It is but right to add that this melancholy period was not quite barren of good men, who both knew and strove to do their duty, and it will be a grateful task to make honorable mention of these noteworthy exceptions.