It is not without reason that Livy argues, that Alexander of Macedon would have made war with far different results, if he had had the Romans for enemies, instead of the Persians or the unwarlike Indians. It is one thing to make war with warlike nations, and another to fight with peoples ruined by luxury or unaccustomed to arms. Among the Persians mere numbers were much thought of, but in dealing with those same Persians it proved to be more trouble to slaughter than to conquer them. I consider Hannibal’s three victories, at the Trebia, Lake Thrasimene, and Cannæ, are to be placed far above all the exploits of Alexander. Why so? the former won his successes over famous warriors, the latter had the effeminate nations of Asia to contend with.
Fabius Maximus had no less courage than T. Sempronius, C. Flaminius, or Varro, but more sagacity. That prudent general knew that he must not rashly hazard everything against an enemy brought up in the camp, whose whole life had been passed in arms, who had been trained in the school of great commanders, who was distinguished by so many trophies, and attended by some extraordinary destiny or good fortune; delay and opportunity were absolutely necessary to make his defeat a possibility. When he had to contend with such an enemy, the only hope he had left was to avoid a battle, until there was a chance of fighting with success. Meanwhile he had to stand up against the foe, keep him in check, and harass him. In this Fabius was so successful, that perhaps he is entitled to quite as much credit for defeating Hannibal as Scipio himself, although the latter won the final victory. For who can tell whether Scipio would have had an opportunity of conquering at Zama, if Fabius had not checked Hannibal’s victorious career? Nor should a victory won by strategy be thought less of than one gained by force. The former has nothing in common with animals, the latter has.
The Emperor Ferdinand’s plan was the same as that of Fabius Maximus, and accordingly, after weighing his own strength and that of Solyman, he came to the conclusion that it would be the height of bad generalship to tempt fortune, and encounter in a pitched battle the attack of so mighty an enemy. There was another course open to him, namely, to endeavour to check his inroad by the same means as we should use to stay the overflow of a swollen stream, and accordingly he directed all his energies to the construction of walls, ditches, and other fortifications.
It is forty years, more or less, since Solyman at the beginning of his reign, after taking Belgrade, crushing Hungary, and slaying King Louis, made sure of obtaining not only that province but also those beyond; in this hope he besieged Vienna, and renewing the war reduced Güns, and threatened Vienna again, but that time from a distance. Yet what has he accomplished with his mighty array of arms, his boundless resources and innumerable soldiery? Why, he has not made one single step in Hungary in advance of his original conquest. He, who used to make an end of powerful kingdoms in a single campaign, has won, as the reward of his invasions, ill-fortified castles or inconsiderable villages, and has paid a heavy price for whatever fragments he has gradually torn off from the vast bulk of Hungary. Vienna he has certainly seen once, but as it was for the first, so it was for the last time.[272]
Three things Solyman is said to have set his heart on, namely, to see the building of his mosque finished (which is indeed a costly and beautiful work),[273] by restoring the ancient aqueducts to give Constantinople an abundant supply of water, and to take Vienna. In two of these things his wishes have been accomplished, in the third he has been stopped, and I hope will be stopped. Vienna he is wont to call by no other name than his disgrace and shame.
But I return to the point from which I made this digression, namely, that I do not hesitate to claim for Ferdinand a foremost place among generals, inasmuch as, with resources wholly inadequate to the occasion, he has never quailed, but for many a long year has, with marvellous fortitude, sustained the attacks of a foe of no ordinary kind. He has preserved a large portion of Hungary for better days; a greater feat in my eyes than many a triumph won under favourable circumstances over conquered kings and vanquished nations. The greater his need at the critical hour, the brighter his courage shone. Of course I cannot expect those to appreciate his conduct who think that everything ought to be risked in a single action, without the slightest regard to the time, the circumstances, or the strength of the foe. But to anyone else it must seem well nigh miraculous, that a realm so open and exposed as that of Hungary, and one so torn by civil war, should be capable of being defended so long, and should not have altogether passed under the yoke of its powerful assailant. That so much has been done is wholly owing to God’s special mercy, and under Him to the ceaseless toil and anxious care of this most prudent monarch.
In this task what difficulties had he not to encounter, each more grievous than the preceding! The enemy was in sight, his friends were far off; the succours his brother Charles sent came from a distance and arrived too late; Germany, although nearest to the conflagration, was weary of supplying aid; the hereditary states were exhausted by their contributions; the ears of many Christian princes were deaf to his voice when he demanded assistance; though the matter was one of vital importance to them, it was about the last they were likely to attend to. And so at one time, by his own valour, with the forces he could gather from Hungary, Austria, and Bohemia, at another, by the resources of the Empire, at another, by hiring Spanish or Italian troops, he held his ground, though at vast cost. By a line of garrisons he has protected the frontiers of Hungary, which extend for fifteen days’ journey, for he is obliged always to keep some troops embodied, even during a time of truce. For at times there are truces; and he condescends, when there is fear of the Sultan’s attack, and he has no other means of stopping him, to send ambassadors and presents to appease his wrath, as the best chance of saving the necks of the unfortunate Hungarians from the coming storm.
It is ridiculous to suppose that a man thus engaged can enjoy a good night’s rest. For the benefit of the state he must forego sleep. Affairs so weighty demand continual watchfulness, and great anxiety. You may think it is a panegyric I am composing, but I am writing my letter with strict historical accuracy.
To manage these affairs he has ministers, few indeed, but good. The leading men among them, whom perhaps you have heard of, are John von Trautson and Rodolph von Harrach,[274] both of whom are persons of singular loyalty and prudence.
I will conclude with a few details of his private life. He rises at five, even in the severest winter months, and after prayers and hearing mass retires to the council chamber, where he devotes himself to public business until it is time for dinner. He is occupied the same way in the afternoon till supper. When I say supper, I mean, not his own, but that of his councillors, for he never touches supper himself, and does not take food more than once a day and then sparingly; nor does he indulge more freely in drinking, being content to finish his dinner with two draughts of wine. Since he lost his wife, no other woman has been allowed to take her place. He does not care for jests and the amusements by which many are attracted. Fools, jugglers, buffoons, parasites, the darlings, but also the curses, of ordinary courts, are banished from his palace. He avoids leisure, and is never idle. If, which is an unusual event, he has any time to spare from business, he devotes it, as I previously mentioned, to conversations with men of worth and learning, which he greatly enjoys. In particular, they stand by him at dinner, and talk with him on various topics.