Stephen Sisa : The Spirit of Hungary

One of the many stories about Mátyás' deep sense of justice and his affection for the peasants shows how he taught the nobles a lesson. One hot summer day, the king set a group of his visitors - all nobles - to do some digging in the royal garden. Soon, they became exhausted and began to complain. The king pointed out that they had just experienced how arduous the work of digging was for even a short period, and that they should appreciate the labor of those who had to spend their whole lives engaged in such back-breaking work.

Those involved in this episode may have taken their king's admonition to heart, but not the large majority of big landholders. They greeted Mátyás' death in 1490 with a sigh of relief, because to them he had been an iron-handed protector of the lower classes to the detriment of the nobility.

With Mátyás gone, the high nobles began digging of a different sort-digging, perhaps unwittingly, the grave of their own country. Their first deed was to elect as king, Wladislas, a Pole of the Jagello House, the King of Bohemia. In doing so, they bypassed John Corvinus, Mátyás' illegitimate son who, while not as strong a personality as his late father, would have certainly made a better king than Wladislas. The election was not dictated entirely by selfishness, but also by the hope that the new king might pave the way for a Polish-Hungarian union.

Wladislas was a good and well-meaning man with a soft heart. His favorite expression was the Polish word dobje meaning "all right." To this day he is commonly referred to as Wladislas Dobje (Dobzse László). During his reign everything in Hungary that could possibly be given away was given away, and all requests that could be granted were granted. The main beneficiaries of this policy were the big landowners; the losers were the peasants. As the grievances of the peasants under Wladislas increased, so did their hostility toward the ruling class.

Since the peasants' political power was nonexistent, there were only two groups in Hungary to reckon with. One was the Court Party of feudal lords close to the King; the other was the National Party composed of the lesser nobility, which regarded itself the depository of the Hunyadi heritage. János Zápolya, the Voivode of Transylvania, was the leader of their strong army, which was to play a key role in the events about to unfold. (János Zápolya was the son of the late István Zápolya, the all-powerful Palatine under Mátyás.)

The "Hungarian Wolsey"

While England had the colorful Thomas Cardinal Wolsey under Henry VIII, Hungary produced another Tamás of extraordinary talent and ambition. Tamás (Thomas) Bakócz, whose phenomenal career catapulted him from son of a wheel-wright to Cardinal and Archbishop of Esztergom.

A man of peasant origin, he studied for the priesthood at the Universities of Cracow, Ferrara and Padova to become secretary to King Mátyás and subsequently Bishop of Gyr. Upon Mátyás' death, he supported Wladislas against John Corvinus and, as a highly skilled manipulator, played a key role in the intrigues surrounding the throne. He was a confidant of King Wladislas, who appointed him chancellor. By the time he was appointed cardinal, Bakócz had amassed a huge fortune from inheritances and donations of estates.

Bakócz, a man with a penchant for extravagance, had an overpowering ambition surpassing even that of King Mátyás. While the latter's obsession was to become emperor one day, Tamás Cardinal Bakócz wanted to become Pope, as did his English counter-part, Cardinal Wolsey.

When in 1513 the papal throne became vacant, Bakócz believed that the hour of destiny had struck. In his usual grand style, he set out to be elected pontiff.

Bakócz arrived in Rome with a great entourage displaying a luxury and splendor seldom seen even in Italy. According to a contemporary historian, György Szerémi:

The treasures he took with him filled ten gilt ornamented coaches of four-in-hand that also contained his private embroidered bedding. Three hundred servants formed the bulk of his entourage, each of them having four sets of uniforms reserved for different occasions. One set was made of green velvet embroidered with gold, the second set was sewn of white taffeta-silk, the third was made of red atlas sheets with gold embroidery, and the fourth set

was made of plain black velvet. His servants included many cooks who wore multi-colored outfits made of velvet and silk and bonnets with golden ribbon even in the kitchen.

A dozen banquet tables were set with gold and silver tableware, Italian style, while the food was to be carried around on twenty-five golden trays.

With the preparations done, Bakócz invited the other cardinals for dinner to impress them and to influence their votes. This was only the opening shot in his extravagant campaign for the papacy, a campaign which even saw special gold coins with Bakócz' image minted and distributed to enhance his prestige.

Ultimately, the cardinal almost succeeded, for he was only five votes short of his goal. Had he won the papal seat, history - including that of Hungary - would have taken a different turn. Bakócz' ambition was not entirely self-centered. As much as Mátyás had wanted to become Holy Roman Emperor to use his position against the Turks, so was Bakócz obsessed by the idea of mobilizing the Christian world against the same enemy.

The new Pope, Leo X, a Medici known as the patron of the painter Raffael, did not let Bakócz go home empty-handed. He issued a bull in 1513 in which he ordered Bakócz to organize a crusade against the Turks on behalf of the Holy See.

When the cardinal returned to Hungary amidst great pomp and jubilation, he already wore the large red cross which was to become the emblem of the crusaders. In Esztergom, Bakócz invited the high dignitaries of the land for a three-day feast served in his usual grand style to celebrate the great honor bestowed upon him and Hungary, which was to be-again-the standard-bearer in the fight for Christianity. This latest moral triumph was to lead to the worst carnage in Hungary's history.

An Unwelcome Crusade

The initial vision of a glorious crusade soon turned into a nightmare.

First of all, the timing could not have been more unfortunate. Becoming a crusader appealed to the most religious segment of the population - the peasants -since all crusaders were promised absolution of sins and eternal salvation. However, the Bull had been issued just before harvest time, when the peasants were most needed in the field.

Although the call for the crusade extended not just to Hungary, but to Bohemia, Poland, Denmark, Sweden, Norway, Prussia, Russia, Wallachia and the Baltic lands as well, the Papal Bull was not publicized in these other countries because feudal lords, with the concurrence of the high clergy, did not want to lose their serfs with the harvest imminent.

As a result, Hungary alone responded with thousands of peasants leaving their masters, prompted not only by religious fervor, but also by a desire to get away from the tyranny of their landlords. The landowners on the other hand, were worried not only about losing their workers, but by the potential danger of a peasant revolt. Initial reluctance developed into active resistance as many landlords began using force to prevent their serfs from leaving.

Nevertheless, in a few weeks' time 40,000 crusaders gathered in Bakócz' camp near Buda, most equipped with primitive arms and having no military experience at all.

The bigger the peasant army grew, the more anxious the cardinal and the other dignitaries became. In today's terms, a proletarian army was gathering for a purportedly religious Crusade. Finally, Bakócz appointed as leader of the burgeoning army. György Dózsa, a Székler nobleman from the lesser nobility who had just recently become a hero by slaying the famous Beg Ali in a duel.

The Crusade Turns into a Peasant Rebellion

News of the violence committed by landlords against their serfs aroused the would-be crusaders' wrath, and agitation against the nobles began in their camps. It was openly declared that the landlords were even greater enemies of the people than the Turks were, and should be dealt with first. To supplement their dwindling supplies, raiding parties descended on the surrounding estates, leaving destruction and death in their wake.

Cardinal Bakócz viewed these developments with increasing alarm, realizing that he had released the contents of a Pandora's box that he could no longer control. Frightened and pressured by the Court Party, the cardinal ordered the Papal Bull withdrawn, prohibiting further enlistments. He also instructed György Dózsa and his troops to set out immediately toward Dalmatia to engage the Turks there.

But the cardinal's measures had come too late. By that time Dózsa was no longer seeking glory against the Turks, but was carried away instead by the revolutionary spirit of his army. After reading Bakócz's letter calling for withdrawal of the Pope's Bull, he reportedly exclaimed: "I am neither insane, nor a child with whom you can play at will! I swear to God and the Holy Cross that I will do away with you."

By "you" Dózsa meant the entire class of feudal lords, and thus became the self-anointed prince of the peasants, ready to lead a crusade against the landlords.

Oil onto the Fire

It was at this juncture that Dózsa issued a proclamation from the city of Karcag in which, calling himself "Prince of the People," he ordered all the peasants of Hungary to join his forces under penalty of death to curb and subdue the forces of the wicked nobility. The final passage of the proclamation threatened those who would not obey his call: "They will be hung or impaled and their wives and children killed on their own property which then will be destroyed or confiscated."

This was the mood that prevailed in Dózsa's camp at the time.

Dózsa delivered a more eloquent speech in the town of Cegléd. As reconstructed by a pro-Dózsa Italian chronicler, Lodovico Tubero, he said:

The Hungarian nobles, who keep you in servitude, do not consider you as citizens. but treat you as slaves... Whatever grows on the fields, thanks to your toil and sweat, belongs to them. You plow the soil, plant the grapes, breed cattle and sheep so that the nobility can profit from your labor. What is left for you is serfdom and misery

When a noble builds a home, gets married, gives his daughter away in marriage, entertains guests, gets a son or buries one, when he travels on his own affairs to see the king - he makes you pay for it. Whatever he does, it harms you... Their holiday is a day of mourning for you, because their luxury is paid by your money. In time of mourning, the funeral feast is financed from your funds, making you cry...

How long will we tolerate this gross injustice, we whose ancestors were led into Europe by the famous King of Attila?... Don't believe that your enemies will have mercy with you, should you show repentance...

There is no other way but to exterminate the nobility - or give satisfaction by offering your blood and eternal servitude to our most insolent enemies.

With the Karcag Proclamation and Dózsa's speech at Cegléd, the die was cast. The "Peasant Rebellion" (Parasztlázadás) broke out in May of 1514 and lasted only four months. Actually, many of the lesser nobles also joined Dózsa's forces, 95 percent of whom were Magyars. The rest included Poles, Serbs and Wlachs (Rumanians).

Bornemissza, a very talented soldier, became the general of the feudal army with István Báthory and Bishop Czáky his foremost leaders. Dózsa had a special grudge against the bishop because Czáky had humiliated him when Dózsa visited the Court in Buda.

In the beginning, the feudal forces captured a small group of peasant soldiers, each of whom was subsequently impaled by order of the King. The bulk of the peasant army set out for Transylvania where Dózsa hoped to enlist the support of the Széklers. But first they wanted to occupy the huge and fertile region around Csanád which formed the property of the Margrave George Brandenburg. Originally, this area had belonged to the Hunyadis and was inherited by John Corvinus, Mátyás' illegitimate son. After Corvinus' death, the Margrave married his widow, not for love, but for the estate. Once in possession of the estate, the Margrave abused his wife terribly, ultimately causing her death.

Trailing the peasant army were the feudal forces under István Báthory and Bishop Czáky. In a preliminary skirmish they easily defeated a contingent of Dózsa's men at Nagylak, but both leaders were routed in a night raid by resurging peasant units. In the pursuit, the wounded Báthory was able to escape, but Dózsa's arch-enemy, Bishop Czáky, was captured and died a gruesome death. With his bones broken by war hammers, he was impaled - in full regalia - head first.

Violence spawns violence, and when poisoned with blind hatred, it hits the guilty and innocent alike. This civil war was no different from any other: many thousands fell victim to the mad carnage carried out by both sides.

Among Dózsa's lieutenants it was his brother, Gergely, who opposed the cruelty and executions, but in vain. The other moderate, Száleresi, was the first to dissolve his troops at Buda after receiving immunity for himself and his soldiers. His desertion meant that the burghers disassociated themselves from the peasants in the struggle that was still to come.

Showdown at Temesvár

Further early victories of the feudal forces led by Bornemissza brought the peasant movement to a halt around Buda, in Transdanubia, and between the Danube and Tisza rivers, but the regions east of the Tisza were still aflame. When Dózsa captured the huge estates of Margrave Brandenburg at Csanád, the villagers greeted the peasant troops as their liberators from oppression. The capture of some fortresses brought further minor victories for the rebels, but the decisive battle took place around Temesvár, one of the strongest fortresses of the country. The peasant army, about 30,000 strong, arrived at the city on June 15, 1514.

By this time Dózsa had some cannons and began to bombard the city without inflicting much damage. Dózsa's army, however, was not prepared for protracted warfare, while Temesvár was well-equipped to withstand a siege for months. In this situation, neither side was able to deliver a decisive blow against the other.

Until now, the National Party of the lesser nobility under János Zápolya had remained neutral. But with the siege of Temesvár on, each side sought to enlist Zápolya's support. Craftily, Zápolya decided to support the side that could offer him the most in return - and the feudal side under Báthory promised him something that Dózsa certainly could not match - accession to the Hungarian throne. At the time János Zápolya was only twenty-eight years old.

With Zápolya's decision to side with the landlords, the peasants, earlier abandoned by the burghers, had to face the united armies of the entire nobility. Dózsa could match them in numbers and enthusiasm, but not in equipment and organization.

Still, it was a hard fought battle until the wounded Dózsa fell into the nobles' hands. This decided not only the day, but the future of the Magyar peasantry for centuries.

Revenge Runs Amok

The retribution meted out by the feudal lords was terrible. Most of those captured alive perished in the wave of executions that followed, the details of which belong to the darkest pages of Hungarian history. The blackest spot on these dark pages is the fiendish way György Dózsa, the "Peasant King" (Parasztkirály), was executed. In a mock coronation ceremony he was put on a scorching iron throne, crowned with a glowing iron crown, and forced to grasp a red-hot royal scepter. To his credit, Dózsa died without a cry. His brother, the moderate Gergely, was also executed.

About 60,000 peasants lost their lives in the four-month civil war and its bloody aftermath.

As further punishment, the National Assembly of 1514 placed additional burdens on the peasantry which, handicapped by financial and servile liabilities, was retarded in its development for several hundred years.

All Were Responsible

The peasant revolution in Hungary was a catastrophe of the first magnitude. The mutual bloodletting fatally weakened the ranks of able-bodied men, depleting the defense potential of the country. The retribution which followed poisoned the atmosphere at a time when the nation needed unity.

Peasant leaders and feudal lords alike must be blamed for the events of 1514. Dózsa and his uncompromising cohorts (eminently Lrinc Mészáros) lost their sense of reality when they incited the peasants to a struggle for which they were not well prepared. Their cruelty toward the nobles and their families during the campaign only served to discredit what good intentions they might have had.

The Court Party must be condemned even further for the indiscriminate campaign of revenge which so fatally weakened the manpower of the country. It was their rapacity that had driven the peasantry to the desperate revolt. When the uprising ended, and an attitude of enlightened mercy was called for, they instead carried out a bloodbath; when the peasants needed an easing of their burdens, they kicked them to the ground. The disaster at Mohács, which followed twelve years later, was a consequence of the events of 1514.

Stephen Sisa : The Spirit of Hungary