The American Quarterly Review, No. 18, June 1831 (Vol 9)

by Various

To maintain religious peace was the next concern. The reformation had made its way to Poland,—but not merely under the forms of Calvinism and Lutheranism. The Socinians existed also as a powerful party. Those who were not Catholics, were at variance with each other; the diet, therefore, with great consideration, decreed, that no one should be punished or persecuted for his religious opinions. The term, dissidents, was originally used of them all, as expressing their mutual differences; in process of time, it was, however, applied exclusively to those who were out of the Roman church.

At length the day for the election arrived. The Polish nobility, each on his war-horse, appeared at the appointed place in countless troops, and it seemed as though an army had been assembled, rather than an electoral body. The candidates were proposed,—the ambassadors of the leading foreign powers admitted to address the electors, and freedom given to any Pole to offer himself as a candidate, for the suffrages of his countrymen. Yet, before proceeding to the election, a constitution was formed, embodying all the privileges of the oligarchy, and conferring on that order, the unequivocal sovereignty. After this work was accomplished, the vote was taken, and Henry of Anjou was chosen king.

It was wise for the nation, which showed a spirit of religious tolerance, to exact of their new king, a pledge in favour of religious peace. An oath was not too strong a guarantee to be required of him, who was a leader in the massacre of St. Bartholomy's night! It was wise, also, to require money and other advantageous stipulations of France. But the Poles felt still greater satisfaction in the law which was now established, prohibiting the choice of a successor, during the lifetime of the king.

The Duke of Anjou left the siege of Rochelle for the Polish crown; and four months after his coronation, he fled from Poland by night, as a fugitive, on horseback, accompanied by seven attendants. The Poles, dismayed and humiliated by the procedure, fixed a limit for his return, and when that period had expired, they declared the throne to be vacant, and proceeded to a new election.

Stephen Bathory, the duke of Transylvania, was the successful candidate. Under his short reign, Poland saw the last years of its prosperity; and from the epoch of his death, the spirit of faction prevailed over every sentiment of justice or patriotism. The king had no further authority to concede; and internal feuds, sustained by the most bitter passions, now divided the nobility.

It was in 1586 that king Stephen died. At that time Poland extended from Brandenburgh and Silesia to Esthonia; its power along the Baltic was undisputed; and the shores of the Euxine had as yet submitted to no other dominion. Wallachia and Hungary were its southern limits; while, in the east, it still contended with Russia for an extended frontier. Its soil was productive of the most valuable returns; its plains were intersected by navigable rivers; its population amounted to sixteen millions, and its resources seemed to promise the means of easily sustaining more than three-fold that number. The principle of religious equality was recognized by its law; and it believed itself to possess a greater degree of liberty than any nation of Europe. How could such a state, so magnificent in its resources, so commanding in its actual strength, so celebrated for daring valour, sink into the gloom and debility of anarchy? How could such a nation in its glory submit to unconnected activity, and, like the fabled Titan, suffer the birds of prey to gorge upon its vitals, without one effectual struggle in self-defence?

The wildest spirit of party was displayed at the next election of a king. The factions were respectively led by two powerful and ambitious families; and to the former evils in the state were now added those political feuds, fostered by the passion for aggrandizement, and rendered virulent by the excess of personal hatred. The dominant party declared Sigismund III. to be elected the king of Poland.

The new king was, unluckily, first, an imbecile and narrow-minded man, with all the obstinacy belonging to weakness; next, he was heir to the Swedish throne; thirdly, he was a bigotted Catholic; and, lastly, and for Poland the saddest of all, he lived to reign forty-five years. His blind stupidity left the storms of party to rage unrestrained, and the usurpations of the nobility to proceed unchecked: his hereditary claim on Sweden, which wisely rejected his right, and preferred Gustavus Adolphus, led to a war, in which Poland was the chief sufferer; his bigotry prevented him from healing the intestine divisions by wise toleration; and, finally, his long life gave almost every one of his neighbours an opportunity of aggrandizement by aggressions on his realm. The dismemberment of the Polish dominions began. The Porte secured Moldavia; the Swedes took possession of Livonia and Courland; and, though the short anarchy in Russia led to some success in that quarter, it was a greater loss that the Elector of Brandenburgh, contrary to the stipulations of ancient treaties, claimed and obtained the succession to the fief of the Prussian Dutchy. In short, the reign of Sigismund was marked by deadly errors of policy, and foolish obstinacy of character. The continued oppression of the peasantry, and the constant recurrence of eventual losses in wars, were in no degree compensated by the display of warlike virtues on the part of a democratic nobility.

It was of little advantage to the Poles, that Ladislaus IV., the son and successor of Sigismund, was a man of distinguished merit. At his accession the nobles devised a new condition. Hitherto they had guarded themselves against taxation; they now proceeded to tax the king. For a long period, one quarter of the income of the royal domains had been set apart for the military service, especially for the artillery; they now demanded a concession of a full moiety. But, it may be asked, what was done for the people? The answer would be, absolutely nothing. It did not seem to be imagined, that the labouring class had any rights; not a law was proposed for the benefit of the millions, who cultivated the soil. Even the peasants on the estates of the king were equally oppressed;—why? It was the nobles who farmed the royal domains.

Every thing stagnated. Every thing, do we say? The natural instinct of freedom in the Cossacks could brook their abject servitude no longer. They reclaimed their partial independence, complained that their rights were infringed, and found demagogues, who were desirous and were able to lead them.