We have no accurate information concerning the number of Hungarian warriors and of their retinues who entered Hungary towards the end of the ninth century, nor can we point out those localities on the eastern frontier of the country through which the entrance was effected. As to the numbers, we do not go amiss if we assume that no more than one hundred and fifty thousand fighting men formed the main body of the invaders. Their ranks were swelled partly by Russians who followed in their track, partly by Avars, a kindred Turkish population, whom they found in the country itself, and by Khazars, who, preceding the Hungarians, were leading a nomadic life on the steppe. Regarding the country itself, it must be borne in mind that in those days it was very thinly populated, and the ethnical conditions were somewhat as follows: In the west there were Slovenes and Germans; in the north, namely, in the Carpathian mountains, lived the compact mass of the Slovaks, whose sway extended down to the banks of the Theiss. The country between that river and the Danube belonged to the Bulgarian prince, Zalán, whilst the region on the left bank of the Theiss, as far as the river Szamos, was in the possession of Marót, the prince of the Khazars. The conquest of Hungary was evidently a task of no great difficulty for a warlike nation like the Hungarians, whose strange physiognomy and superior weapons, brought from the Caucasus, struck terror, at the very outset, into the breasts of the inhabitants. The invaders appeared with their small, sturdy, and hardy horses, quick as lightning and strong as iron. Their mode of warfare was strictly Asiatic, similar to that used to this day by the Turcomans, and they were animated precisely by the same spirit which led the Mongolians, under Jenghis Khan, over the whole of Asia and a large portion of Europe. With all this, they could not be called barbarians or savages, when their social and political institutions were compared with those of the inhabitants they subjugated in Hungary. It was the culture of Persia which extended at that time up to the banks of the Volga, penetrating the minds of the motley populations living there, and traces of this culture are clearly to be discovered in the acts of the leading persons amongst the conquering Hungarians. As soon as the Hungarians had taken possession of their present country, under the leadership of Árpád, it became their chief care to give a certain stability to their internal affairs. Scattered over the extensive territory, they more particularly endeavored to bring order into their relations with the former inhabitants. Those only who refused to lay down their arms felt the weight of the conquerors; whilst they reciprocated the friendship and confidence shown to them by others. Thus it happened that many of the ancient inhabitants were adopted by them for their own countrymen, and that, having entered into a treaty of amity with Marót, a treaty made firmer by the betrothal of Árpád’s youngest son, Zoltán, with Marót’s daughter, the territory of Bihar was added to Hungary after the death of Marót. According to the fashion of the Scythian populations, they disturbed no one in his faith, nor did they interfere with any one’s mode of worship. Nomads as they were, they knew how to appreciate what was still left of the ancient culture in their new country, and they fostered the colonial places still surviving from the Roman period, the cradles of the future city life of Hungary.
There is an account in the history of the Hungarians how the different portions of the invading army spread over the country, what battles they fought, what alliances they entered into with the reigning princes, but the account is based merely upon legendary tradition. We are sadly in want of details about that most interesting epoch, and supported by historical authority we can only state that Leo the Wise, the emperor of Byzantium, asked the military assistance of the Hungarians against the Bulgarians, and that it was the sword of the valiant nomadic warriors which averted a threatening calamity from Constantinople. It is likewise certain that Arnulph, King of Germany, encouraged by the military reputation of the Magyars, asked their assistance against Svatopluk, King of Moravia, and that their first appearance in the country is connected with this occurrence.
The conquest of Hungary occupied the period between 884 and 895.
Within this time falls the utter defeat and tragic end of Svatopluk, the most powerful native prince with whom the Hungarians had to contend. Arnulph had already engaged him in battle when the Hungarians came to the succor of the former. Their timely arrival decided the fate of the battle, which resulted in the complete rout and scattering of the Moravians. Svatopluk, is said to have done wonders of heroism during the battle, but after its fatal termination he could nowhere be found. In vain was the bloody field searched for the body of the unfortunate leader, nor were the messengers sent out to remoter regions to obtain news of him more successful in their quest. Hungarian tradition has it that in his rage and despair at the loss of the battle, he rushed into the Danube, and met there with a watery grave. Slavic tradition, however, represents the matter in a manner more in keeping with the character and reckless disposition of this strange barbarian, who knew but unbridled passions and sudden resolutions formed on the spur of the moment. According to these traditions, Svatopluk, seeing that his fortunes were hopelessly wrecked, mounted a steed and, leaving the battle-field, swiftly rode away into the fastnesses of the interminable forests covering the Zobor mountain, which overlooks in massive grandeur towards the east and south the town and castle of Nyitra, and was then lost to sight. Here in a secluded valley, amidst rocks, and protected by pathless woods, lived three hermits. These holy men passed their lives in offering up prayers to God in a chapel constructed by their own hands, and, entirely absorbed by their pious exercises, they knew no other nourishment but herbs and the fruit growing wild. These men, who did not visit the neighboring cities, had never seen Svatopluk, and this was the very reason that brought the king of the Moravians to their hermitage. As he reached late in the night a place where the forest was densest, he dismounted, killed his horse, and, together with his royal mantle and crown, buried it in a ditch, and covered up the place of burial with earth and leaves. He then tore his garments and soiled them with mud, and in this guise, pretending to be a beggar, he came to the three hermits and told them that, moved by the Holy Spirit, he desired to pass his life with them. He was cordially received by the hermits and lived amongst them a great many years unknown, praying as they did, partaking of the same food they ate, and like them dead to all the memories of the outside world. In his last moments only he told them his real name, and the hermits, in their childlike astonishment at this incredulous adventure, placed the following inscription on his tombstone: “Here rests Svatopluk, the king of Moravia, buried in the centre of his kingdom.”
Árpád, called by the Greek writers Arpadis, was the first ruler of Hungary, who laid the foundations of the present kingdom, and whose statesmanlike sagacity may well excite admiration, considering that under his lead a strictly Asiatic nation succeeded in penetrating into the very interior of Christian Europe and moulding a state out of the heterogeneous elements of old Pannonia. For this reason we find it improper to call him a rude barbarian, as contemporary Christian writers are in the habit of doing. He evidently was penetrated with the Persian culture and his Oriental statesmanship not only equalled but even surpassed the political ideas of the ruling men at that time at the head of affairs in Pannonia and Eastern Germany. Arriving, as he did, with a restless and adventurous nomadic people; he could not mitigate at once the martial rudeness of the latter. Like other Turkish and Mongolian masses the Hungarians, very soon after the occupation of the country, rushed out into the neighboring lands to gratify their lust of adventure and booty. They penetrated into Germany, spreading terror and devastation everywhere. On a larger scale was their inroad into Italy in 899, where King Berengar was defeated on the banks of the Brenta. Twenty thousand Italians were slain, the wealthy cities of Milan, Pavia, and Brescia were plundered, and the invaders crossed even the Po. It was only by the payment of a large ransom that the Italians could free themselves from the scourge of these Asiatic conquerors. Encouraged by this success the Hungarians, in the following year, entered Germany, trying their arms with varying fortune, until a common decision of the chieftains arrested these incursions. In 907 the nation was saddened by a mournful event. The ruler who had founded the new empire, who for nearly twenty years had directed the destinies of the nation with so much wisdom and energy, and in whom the glory of great statesmanship and generalship was united, had ceased to be amongst the living. His body was, according to ancient custom, burned and his ashes buried near a brook flowing at that time in a pebbly bed towards Etzelburg, the Old-Buda of to-day. His grateful descendants, after the introduction of Christianity, erected on that spot a church, called the White Church of the Virgin, in commemoration of the immortal prince. He was succeeded by his son Zoltán, who had to seize the reins at a comparatively tender age, and who was therefore assisted by three governors. This circumstance encouraged the neighboring princes to fall upon Hungary in order to drive the new conquerors out of the country. Luitpold, Duke of Bavaria, and Ditmar, Archbishop of Salzburg, together with others, led the united army in three different columns, flattering themselves with the hope that, imitating the tactics of Charlemagne against the Avars, they would be as successful as that famous ruler of the Franks.
The Hungarians, menaced by such an imminent danger, concentrated all their forces to resist the onslaught. Always quick to resolve and as quick in their movements, they anticipated the attack, and the two hostile armies met in 907 in the environs of Presburg. The struggle on both sides was a bitter one. The zeal of the Germans, on the one hand, was excited by the prospect of ridding themselves and the whole Occident of the disagreeable neighborhood of these dangerous intruders, whilst with the Hungarians, on the other hand, it was a question of self-preservation, for in case of a defeat they had every thing at stake. The latter, therefore, fought with the utmost vehemence, not in regular battle array, after the German fashion, but with their storming divisions, furious attacks, feigned retreats, and renewed onslaughts, their arrows and javelins descending every time like a hail-storm, they broke through the serried ranks of the Germans and rode down every thing that was in their way. The sun rose and set three times over the heads of the fighting armies before the great battle was decided. The Germans were hopelessly defeated. Duke Luitpold lost his life fighting, and with him the Archbishop of Salzburg, as well as most of the bishops, abbots, and counts, laid down their lives during those three fatal days.
It was but natural that, encouraged by this successful battle, the Hungarians should eagerly continue their marauding expeditions in every direction into Germany and even France. Dividing into small bands, just as the Turcomans used to do up to quite recent times in Persia, the Hungarians infested the whole of Saxony and Thuringia, and penetrated as far as Bremen. They crossed the Rhine, flooded a part of France, and quick as were their inroads, no less promptly did they return, always laden with rich booty and driving before them a long file of slaves of both sexes. The entire Occident was continually harassed by them, and this gave rise to those dire misrepresentations of the Hungarians and to the execrations against them which could be heard all over the western world during the tenth century, and which were faithfully copied into the chronicles of that time. In these chronicles they were charged with devouring the hearts of their enemies in order to render themselves irresistible in battle. Signs in the heavens were said to herald their approach. Virgins devoted to the service of God foretold the irruptions of the Hungarians and their own martyrdom. Mere human power seemed hopeless against them; the litanies of that time, therefore, abound in special prayers asking for the protection of the Lord. Impartial history easily recognizes in all this partly exaggerations, partly outbreaks of dismay, and the effects of fright, but these utterances, overdrawn as they are, contribute much to our knowledge of the violence of the struggle between the western Christians and the Asiatic Hungarians. Quite differently and by no means so dreadfully are the Hungarians described by the Byzantine historians. Their reputation for ferocity, and the knowledge of the terror they inspired, enhanced their valor and audacity. Neglecting all precautionary measures, and undervaluing their enemies, they began to meet here and there with small disasters, and, as the Germans on the other hand, becoming familiar with their mode of warfare, and more accustomed to the strange appearance of Asiatic warriors, grew bolder and bolder, we may easily account for the turn which gradually took place in the war fortunes of the Magyars. It was Henry the Fowler, King of Germany, who, after making preparations for nine years, inflicted the first heavy loss upon the Hungarian adventurers near Merseburg in 933. The Germans rushed into the battle with the cry of “Kyrie eleyson,” whilst the Hungarians were wildly shouting “Hooy, Hooy.” The Saxon horsemen caught up the Hungarian arrows with their shields, and in solid ranks threw themselves in fierce onset upon the Hungarians. The latter perceived with surprise and dismay that they were opposed by a well-organized enemy. During the hand-in-hand fight which now ensued the Germans achieved victory by their determined bravery. A great many Hungarians fell in the fight, and many more were killed during their retreat. The number of killed is assumed to have been thirty-six thousand. The Hungarian camp with all the baggage fell into the hands of the victors. Henry commanded that a universal thanksgiving feast should be observed throughout the whole of Germany, and ordered that the tribute hitherto paid to the Hungarians should be divided between the churches and the poor.
The Hungarians now refrained from entering Germany in a northern direction, but the more frequent and more vehement grew their irruptions into Bavaria and also into the northern portion of the Byzantine empire. It was the old lust of conquest and adventure, and greediness for booty which spurred their activity. Duke Taksony, who succeeded his father Zoltán in 946, and reigned until 972, was animated by the same lawless spirit, and the Hungarians would have continued to be the scourge of the neighboring countries if the defensive measures taken by the Germans about this time had not acted as a dam against their devastating flood. In the year 955, on the river Lech, near Augsburg, King Otto the Great inflicted a terrible defeat upon the Hungarians—a defeat by which nearly the whole of the Hungarian army, numbering forty thousand men was annihilated. Their generals, Bulcsee and Lehel were captured; the chains of gold they wore around their necks, as well as other trinkets of gold and silver, were taken from them, and at last they were carried to Ratisbon, and were made to suffer a disgraceful death by being hanged. A part of their fellow captives were buried alive, whilst the others were tortured to death in the most cruel manner. The remainder of the army was destroyed in its retreat by the people who had everywhere risen, and, according to tradition, but seven were left to reach their homes. The Magyars, a proud nation even in their misfortune, were so incensed against these fugitives for having preferred a cowardly flight to a heroic death, that they were scornfully nicknamed the Melancholy Magyars, and condemned to servitude. Even their descendants wandered about through the land as despised beggars.
A tradition has survived amongst the people to this day, about the death of Lehel and his reputed ivory bugle-horn, upon which there are carved representations of battles. It is true that archæological inquiry has proved its sculpture to be of Roman workmanship and that it was a drinking-cup rather than a bugle. The legend, however, as still current amongst the Hungarians, deserves to be told for the sake of its romantic character.
Amidst the confusion and wild disorder incident upon the disastrous battle of Augsburg, Duke Lehel found no time to give thought to his battle-horn. His horse had been killed under him, and whilst he lay buried beneath it the trusty sword was wrenched from the hand of the hero before he could pierce his own heart with it. Taken prisoner he was led captive into the presence of the victorious Otto.
Princely judges sat in judgment on the princely captive and condemned him to death. This sentence caused Lehel no pain; he felt he had deserved it, not, indeed, for having given battle but for losing it. Yet it hurt him to the soul to see the rebel Conrad seated amongst his judges, the traitor who had invited the Hungarians to enter Germany, and who, by his defection, had caused their defeat. The success of his dastardly desertion had, however, conciliated the victors and restored him to their confidence.
Lehel begged but for one favor, and that was to be allowed to wind the horn, his faithful and inseparable friend, once more, and to sound on it his funeral dirge. The horn was handed to him. He sounded it for the last time; and, as he drew from it the sad strains which sounded far and wide and were mournfully re-echoed by the distant hills, the dying warrior on the field of Lech lifted up his head, eagerly listening to the familiar bugle, and the soul which had come back to him, for one instant, took wings again as soon as the sad strains died away. The dying music, plaintively quivering, told the tale of an inglorious death terminating an heroic life. The very henchmen were listening with rapture.
At that moment Lehel broke away from his place, and, seeing Conrad before him, felled him to the ground, killing him with a single blow from the heavy horn. “Thou shalt go before me and be my servant in the other world,” said Lehel. Thereupon he went to the place of execution. There is discernible on Lehel’s horn, in our days, a large indentation which posterity attributes to the event just narrated.
Not only in Germany but also in the southeast of Europe the marauding Hungarians experienced more than one disaster, and it may be properly said that in 970, when they attacked the Byzantine empire and were defeated near Arcadiopolis, their long series of irruptions into the adjoining countries was brought to a conclusion. They became convinced that while they themselves were steadily decreasing in numbers and wasting their strength in continuous wars, the neighboring nations were becoming every day more formidable by dint of their unanimity, organization, courage, and skill in warfare, and that, in consequence, the Hungarian name inspired no more the terror which the first successes had earned for it. They saw that if they went on with their inroads, as hitherto, they would thereby but bring about the dissolution of the empire from within, or that they might provoke on the part of foreign nations a united attack which they would be unable to withstand. For this reason they renounced those adventurous campaigns which began already seriously to menace their existence and their future in Europe.
They were strengthened in the wisdom of this course by Duke Geyza, who succeeded his father in 972, and reigned until 997. Baptized during the life of his father at Constantinople, and having married Sarolta, the mild-tempered daughter of Duke Gyula, of Transylvania, he became very early awake to the necessity of refining the rude manners of his people. His disposition became much more apparent when, after the death of his first wife, he married the sister of Miecislas, the prince of Poland, a lady famous for her beauty, and also conspicuous for her energy and masculine qualities, for she vied in riding, drinking, and the chase with her chivalrous husband, upon whom she really exercised an extraordinary influence. Extremely severe in his rule, it was Geyza who began to transform the manners and habits of the Magyars. They began to show greater toleration towards foreign religions, and were really on the eve of changing their Asiatic manners and habits into those of Europe. More than a hundred years had passed since their migration from the ancestral steppes. Historical events, difference of climate, and, above all, the separation from their Asiatic brethren had carried into oblivion very many features of that political and social life which, originating in Asia, could not be well continued in the immediate neighborhood of, and in the continual contact with, the Western world. The great crisis in the national career appears to have arrived at its culmination during the reign of Duke Geyza, and to have found its ultimate solution in the conversion of the Magyars to Christianity, a most important act in the national life of the people, which deserves consideration in a separate chapter.
The Hungarians, when entering their present homes, were heathens, and professed what is called Shamanism, the faith common to all the branches of the vast Uralo-Altaic race, and which has survived to this day amongst the populations of Southern Siberia and Western Mongolia. The doctrines and principles of Shamanism being generally but little known, it is proper to sketch here its outlines, in order to make clear the character of the Hungarian religious rites and customs.
The believers in Shamanism adored one Supreme Being called Isten, a word borrowed from the Persians, who attach to it to this day the meaning of God. Besides the supreme being, they adored sundry spirits or protecting deities, such as the gods of the mountains, woods, springs, rivers, fire, thunder, etc. These divinities were adored either by prayers or through sacrifices offered to them in the recesses of woods, or near springs. What these prayers of the Hungarians were we do not know; we can form, however, some idea of their character on reading the prayers of the present Shaman worshippers, a specimen of which is here subjoined:
The sacrifices consisted in the offering up of cattle and particularly, on solemn occasions, of white horses. Their priests, called Táltos, occupied a pre-eminent place, not only in the political but also in the social life of the Magyars. They were a kind of augurs and soothsayers, whose prophecies were based either upon certain natural phenomena, or upon the inspection of certain portions of slaughtered animals, such as the intestines, the heart, and shoulder-blade, which latter was put into the fire, good and bad auspices being prognosticated from the different positions of the cracks produced.
Religious faith being always open to outside or foreign influence, it was but natural that the Hungarians, in that long march from the interior of Asia into Europe, should have borrowed many novel features from the religious life of the countries through which they passed. Thus, in the earlier faith of the Magyars, we meet with many distinctive traits of the Parsee religion, of that of the Khazars, and of the religions of many Ugrian races, for, like other families of the Uralo-Altaic race, the Magyars were conspicuous for their spirit of toleration towards other believers.
The numerous Christian prisoners they had brought with them from various parts of Europe were not only left in the undisturbed practice of their creeds, but were even permitted to influence to a very considerable degree the faith of their conquerors and masters. Under these circumstances it was by no means a hazardous undertaking, on the part of Duke Geyza, to give permission to missionaries and priests to come into the country and preach the gospel. A Suabian monk named Wolfgang was the first who tried to spread Christianity in Hungary in 917. A greater success was achieved by Pilgrin, the bishop of Passau, who, taking the matter of conversion into his hands, was able to report to the Pope in 974 that nearly five thousand Hungarians had been baptized, and that “under the benign influence of the miraculous grace of God those heathens even who have remained in their erring ways forbid no one the baptism, nor do they interfere with the priests, allowing them to go where they please. Christians and heathens dwell together in such harmony that here the prophecy of Isaiah seems to be fulfilled: ‘The wolf and the lamb shall feed together, and the lion shall eat straw like the ox.’”
Considering the difficulty of turning inveterate Asiatics to western views of life, and, particularly to the totally different doctrines of the Christian religion, we may easily realize that the total conversion of the Magyars was a work attended with many struggles and difficulties. After Pilgrin we find Bruno engaged in the pious undertaking; but by far the most successful of all of the missionaries was St. Adalbert, the bishop of Prague, who came to the country in 993, and, remaining there for a considerable period of time, had the good fortune to baptize several members of the reigning family, amongst whom was the son of Duke Geyza, called Vayik, to whom was given the Christian name of Stephen. This conversion being regarded as one of the most momentous events in the history of the Hungarians, it will be worth while explaining the accompanying illustration, representing this act. In the baptistry, we perceive, as the principal personage, Stephen, in his baptismal robes. Next to him is seen St. Adalbert, robed and adorned in keeping with his episcopal dignity and the apostolic office of conversion. To the left in the foreground, as witnesses to the baptism, are standing the Emperor of Germany, Otto III., who was brought there by his friendship for Geyza and his interest in the baptism of Stephen, and Count Teodato, of San Severino, a knight who had emigrated from Apulia, and to whom Geyza had entrusted the education of his son. Behind the latter stands Duke Henry of Bavaria, who, attending the emperor, is present as a guest. Farther in the background we perceive Duke Geyza and his consort, sunk in pious revery. We see Stephen after the act of confessing his faith and knowledge of Christianity. Already he had turned his face toward the west, had renounced Satan and devoted himself to the eternal war of the children of God, and then, turning to the east, had vowed, with exalted enthusiasm, obedience and devotion to the Law of God as revealed through Christ. Now we see him, according to the custom of the Church at that time, in the act of descending into the baptismal font in order to receive from the hands of the holy bishop the sign of the Cross, the sacrament of spiritual regeneration.
Pious emotion is reflected in the countenances of the attendant Magyars, although there may be discernible here and there the expression of a hidden spirit of antagonism. And the supposition of such an expression can, in no way, be called a groundless one. The worship of God on the banks of rivers, in woods and groves, the offering of sacrifices, and sundry superstitions connected with the soothsaying of the Shaman priests, certainly impressed more forcibly the minds of the free and independent dwellers of the steppes than the mass pronounced in Latin, and the rites of the Catholic Church, introduced by the monks and priests of the West. Conversion to Christianity had to be unconditionally followed up not only by the relinquishment of the old national religion, but also by the renunciation of the ancient habits and manners, to which the Hungarians clung in spite of the generations that had passed since their coming to the banks of the Danube and Theiss. The reluctance, shown here and there, must be also ascribed to the overbearing attitude assumed by the foreign missionaries towards the ruling race of the Magyars, upon whom these Bavarians, Suabians, Czechs, Italians, etc., looked down as contemptible barbarians, a title they by no means deserved, for it was only the difference in culture and not the want of culture which separated the two elements. Suffice it to say that traces of this discontent became visible very early, and that the slumbering spark broke out in open rebellion in 997, in the very year when Stephen ascended the throne, made vacant through the death of his father, Geyza. History records three different risings, which took place with the intention of doing away with the newly introduced Christian religion, together with all the changed modes of life borrowed from western civilization. In the first instance the movement was headed by Kopán, a nobleman in the county of Sümeg. His object was to drive out the foreign Christian missionaries and priests, to dethrone Stephen, and to re-establish the old pagan faith. A vast multitude of discontented Hungarians gathered under his banners, but Stephen was not at all afraid. Collecting his army and the foreign Christian knights about him, he left his regal seat Gran (Esztergom), and marched on straight against the rebels. The engagement took place in the vicinity of Veszprém. It was a hard contested struggle, and only after a bitter fight and the death of Kopán himself, did his adherents lay down their arms. The happy issue of the battle decided the victory of Christianity in Hungary, and all that was still needed, was to strengthen the new faith. The effects of this victory were, nevertheless, of short duration, for in the year 1002, another anti-Christian movement broke out in Transylvania, whose ruler, Duke Gyula, uniting with the partly pagan, partly Mohammedan Petchenegs, made an inroad into Hungary, carrying devastation and bloodshed everywhere. Stephen now had to march against this dangerous enemy, and not only vanquished the Hungarian duke Gyula, but continued his march into the country of the Petchenegs, defeated their prince, Kaan, and looting his camp got possession of all the rich treasures these Petchenegs had carried away from the Greek empire.
The third and decidedly the most dangerous rising took place in 1046, when a certain Vatha, a zealous adherent of the former pagan religion, and an offspring of Duke Gyula, availing himself of the disturbances arising from the contest for the succession to the throne, incited the people against the Christian religion and its institutions. They urged Andrew, the pretender to the throne of the country, “to abolish the Christian religion and its institutions; to re-establish the ancient religion and the laws brought from Asia, and demanded that they should be permitted to pull down the churches, and to drive out the priests and the foreign immigrants.” Unaware of the number and strength of the rebels the prince did not venture to refuse their request. This the rebels took for a tacit compliance, and, emboldened by it, they fell, with wild rage, upon the Christians. The Germans and Italians that were found in the country, especially the bishops and priests, were persecuted with most inhuman cruelty. The churches and other places devoted to Christian piety were destroyed, the ancient pagan religion was restored, and everywhere the people resumed the former mode of life according to their ancient customs and heathen faith, offering up sacrifices, as before, in woods and groves and near springs. During these disorders St. Gerhard, the former tutor of St. Emeric, and at that time bishop of Csanád, lost his life. He was on his way to Pesth, to meet Andrew, when he fell into the hands of the enraged populace, was killed by them on the mountain opposite Pesth, called Gellérthegy (Mount Gerhard) to this day, and his body was thrown into the Danube. Utterly dangerous as the symptoms of these risings were, we see, however, how deeply even at that time Christianity had taken root in Hungary. It very soon became apparent that the revolution was not only of a religious but of a political and social character. King Andrew issued rigorous laws, menacing every one who did not return to the Christian religion and renounce the practice of heathenish customs, with loss of life and property. The destroyed churches were to be rebuilt, and the order of things introduced by Stephen be respected again. These laws and the punishments inflicted upon some of the stubborn adherents of paganism did not fail to produce their effect, and, in a short time, the rebellion was crushed and order and quiet gradually restored throughout the country.
And, strange to say, just as the Mohammedan Turks of our day ascribe the decline and downfall of their power to the many innovations introduced into their religious and social life, and discover the main source of their ruin in the assimilation to the West, precisely so spoke and argued the Hungarians of that day. They laid particular stress upon the fact that the nation, whilst adhering to the religion and customs of its ancestors, had been independent, strong, and mighty, and had even made the whole of Europe tremble; but that now, since it had adopted the religion and customs of the West, the nation was weakened by internal dissensions, strangers had become her masters, foreign armies had penetrated into the very heart of the country—nay, Hungary had lost her independence and had become the vassal of a foreign power. Such representations could not fail to produce their effect. It was easy to convince the uncultivated Hungarians, who were not yet confirmed in the Christian religion and but ill brooked its severe discipline, that all those troubles and misfortunes which had visited the country were the consequences of the introduction of Christianity, and that to achieve a splendid future for the nation, in harmony with its glorious past, this must be done upon the ruins of Christianity and of the institutions introduced by Stephen.
This great change, however repugnant it may have seemed to the Hungarians, was, nevertheless, unavoidable. As previously stated, the foreign elements which flooded the country, owing to the very large number of captives the Hungarians brought with them from every part of Europe, had wrought that change in the manners and habits of life in spite of all the reluctance of the former Asiatic nomads. These captives greatly outnumbering their masters, were mostly used for agricultural purposes, but their close contact with the ruling class unavoidably produced a mitigation of the rude military habits of the latter. The Hungarians eagerly listened to the Christian chants and prayers of their subjects. They imitated them in their food and dress, and, although nearly two centuries had to pass before the former wanderers on the Central-Asian steppes could get accustomed to permanent habitations, and, despite the aversion the proud warrior felt to the plow, the ice, nevertheless, began to break. The Asiatic mode of thinking had to be given up, and with the tenets of Christian tradition habits of Christian life were gradually introduced.
This process of transformation was greatly quickened by the personal intercourse and family connections of Duke Geyza and his chieftains with the court and nobility of the neighboring countries. Besides the involuntary immigration caused by the forays, we meet with a remarkable influx of foreign noblemen who, on the invitation of Duke Geyza, settled in the country, towards the end of the tenth century. The brothers Hunt and Pázmán came from Suabia, Count Buzád from Meissen, Count Hermann from Nuremberg; the Czech knights Radovan, Bogát, and Lodán came with large retinues; many others immigrated from Italy and Greece, so that the high nobility of Hungary, already at the beginning of the conversion of the Magyars, had a large infusion of foreign blood. It may be added that the entire clergy of that day was composed of Czechs, Germans, and Italians. The ground was, therefore, duly prepared, and it wanted only the iron hand of a resolute and wise ruler to achieve the work of conversion, and to accomplish the great task of transforming a formerly warlike and nomadic nation into a Christian and peaceful community. This ruler was King Stephen I.
King Stephen led the Hungarian nation from the darkness of paganism into the light of Christianity, and from the disorders of barbarism into the safer path of western civilization. He induced his people to abandon the fierce independence of nomadic life, and assigned to them a place in the disciplined ranks of European society and of organized states. Under him, and through his exertions, the Hungarian people became a western nation. Never was a change of such magnitude, and we may add such a providential change, accomplished in so short a time, with so little bloodshed, and with such signal success as this remarkable transformation of the Hungarian people. The contemporaries of this great and noble man, those who assisted him in guiding the destinies of the Hungarian nation, gave him already full credit for the wise and patriotic course pursued by him, and the Hungarian nation of the present day still piously and gratefully cherishes his memory. To the Hungarians of to-day, although eight and a half centuries removed from St. Stephen, his form continues to be a living one, and they still fondly refer to his exalted example, his acts, his opinions, and admonitions, as worthy to inspire and admonish the young generations in their country.
This need be no matter for surprise, for at no period of Hungary’s history has her political continuity been interrupted in such a way as to make her lose sight of the noble source from which its greatness sprang. No doubt a complete change has taken place in the political and social order, in the course of so many centuries, but the state structure, however modified, still rests upon the deep and sure foundations laid by the wisdom of her first king. One day in the year, the 20th of August—called St. Stephen’s day—is still hallowed to his memory. On that day his embalmed right hand is carried about with great pomp and solemnity, in a brilliant procession, accompanied by religious ceremonies, through ancient Buda, and shown to her populace. The kingdom of Hungary is called the realm of St. Stephen to this day, the Hungarian kings are still crowned with the crown of St. Stephen, and the nation acknowledges only him to be its king whose temples have been touched by the sacred crown. The Catholic Church in Hungary although it no more occupies its former pre-eminent position in the state, still retains enough of power, wealth, and splendor to bear ample testimony to the lavish liberality of St. Stephen. Thus the historian meets everywhere with traces of his benignant activity, and whilst the fame and saintliness of the great king have surrounded his name with a luminous halo in the annals of his nation, that very brilliancy has prevented from coming down to posterity such mere terrestrial and every-day details as would assist in drawing his portrait. The grand outlines of his form detach themselves vividly and sharply from the dark background of his age—but there is a lack of contemporary accounts which would help to fill up these outlines, and the legends of the succeeding generations, which make mention of him, can but ill supply this want, for they regard in him the saint only, and not the man. His deeds alone remain to guide us in the task of furnishing a truthful picture of the founder of his country, and well may we apply to him the words of Scripture, that the tree shall be known by its fruit.
Stephen was born in Gran (Esztergom), the first and most ancient capital of Hungary, about 969, at a time when his father had not yet succeeded to the exalted position of ruler over Hungary, and a magnificent memorial chapel in the Roman style of the tenth century, erected there, marks the event of his birth in that place. His mother Sarolta, Geyza’s first wife, was the daughter of that Gyula, Duke of Transylvania, who, whilst upon a mission to Constantinople, in 943, had embraced the Christian faith and subsequently endeavored to spread it at home. Thus a Christian mother watched prayerfully at the cradle of young Stephen, and in early childhood, already, the tender mind of the boy was guided by the pious Count of San Severino. Adalbert, the Archbishop of Prague, who sought a martyr’s death and subsequently won the martyr’s crown, introduced him to the community of professing Christians. With his wife Gisella, a Bavarian princess, at his side, he took his place among the Western rulers as their kinsman. While his long reign proved him to be true to his country and his nation, yet the paganism of the ancient Hungarians was quite foreign to his soul.
After the first half of the tenth century religious ideas began to exercise a more powerful influence in Europe than before. The great movement which originated in the monastery of Cluny, in France, held out to the world the promise of a new salvation. Men of extraordinary endowments began again to proclaim with evangelical enthusiasm the mortification of the flesh, in order to exalt the soul, and the suppression of earthly desires for the purpose of restoring the true faith to its pristine glory. They insisted that the shepherd of the faithful souls, the Church, should be freed from all earthly fetters and interests, for, just as the soul was above the body, so was the Church superior to the worldly communities. The Church therefore, they taught, must be raised from her humiliating position, her former dependence changed into a state of the most complete freedom. As a consequence, the visible head of the Church, the Pope, could not be allowed to remain the servant of the head of the worldly power, the emperor, for it was the former that Providence had entrusted with the care of the destinies and happiness of humanity. These ideas spread triumphantly and with incredible rapidity throughout all Europe. They were heralded by a sort of prophetic frenzy; and soul-stirring fanaticism followed in their train. The age of asceticism, long past and become an object almost of contempt, was rescued from oblivion and revived. The despised body was again subjected to tortures and vexations, and the purified soul longed for the destruction of its own earthly existence in order to soar on high freed from mundane trammels. It was the miraculous age of hermits, saints, and martyrs who made it resound with their wailing and weeping, changing this home of dust into a valley of tears, so that the soul transported to the regions of bliss might appear in greater splendor to the dazzled eyes of the earthly beholder. The popes, moreover, riding high on the unchained waves, guided the Church through the tempest of the newly awakened religious passions, with a watchful eye and steady persistence toward one end—the exaltation of the papal power over that of the emperors. At the end of the tenth century Pope Sylvester II. was the representative of the spirit of the age clamoring for the aggrandizement of the papal power, and Otto III. represented in opposition to him the imperial power, undermined by the new ideas. Since the overthrow of the Western Roman empire the world had not been called upon to witness a contest of greater import than the impending struggle between these two rival powers. The great upheaval, indeed, which was to shake Europe to its very centre, did not take place until half a century later, but the seeds, from which the war of ecclesiastical investiture, the stir of the crusades, and the universality of the papal power were to spring, were already scattered throughout the soil which had lain barren through many centuries.
This was the age which gave birth to Stephen and in which he was educated, but his exalted mind rejected the exaggerations, eccentricities, and errors of his time and accepted only its noble sentiments and ideas. His sober-mindedness was equal to his religious enthusiasm, and as his innate energy exceeded both, he left it to religious visionaries to indulge in ascetic dreams. He desired to be the apostle of the promises of his faith, but not their martyr. He made the maintenance, defence, and extension of Christianity the task of his life, because he saw in its establishment the only sure means for the safety and happiness of his people. He pursued no schemes looking to adventures in foreign lands, but devoted all his thoughts, feelings, and energies to his own nation, subordinating to her interests everybody and every thing else. He defended these alike against imperial attacks and papal encroachments. His eyes were fixed on the Cross, but his strong right arm rested on the hilt of his sword, and his apostolic zeal never made him forget for a single moment his duty to a people which had gone through many trials, whose position amongst the European nations was a very difficult one, whose destinies rested in his hands, and who were yet to be called upon to play a great part in the history of the world.
Stephen was about twenty-eight years old when he succeeded his father in 997. He at once embarked with the enthusiasm of youth, coupled with the deliberation and constancy of manhood, on his mission to bring to a happy conclusion the task begun by his mother. In this work he was sedulously assisted by Astrik and his monastic brethren, and the gaze of the foreign Christian lords, who had immigrated with his Bavarian wife, as well as of the great number of lay and ecclesiastical persons who came, flocking to the country, was centred upon the young royal leader, who surpassed them all in zeal and enthusiasm. He spared no pains, nor was he deterred by dangers; he visited in person the remotest parts of the realm, bringing light to places where darkness prevailed, and imparting truth where error stalked defiantly. He sought out the men of distinction and the mighty of the land, and the hearts which were closed to the message of the foreign monks freely opened to his wise and friendly exhortations. Where he could not prevail by the charms of his apostolic persuasion he unhesitatingly threw the weight of his royal sword into the scale. Whilst battling with the arms of truth he did not recoil from using violence, if necessary, in its service. Fate did not spare him the cruel necessity of having to proceed even against his own blood.
The more rapidly and successfully the work of conversion went on, the greater became the apprehension and exasperation of those who looked upon the destruction of the ancient pagan faith as dangerous and ruinous to their nation. Nor did these recoil from any hazard to maintain their faith and to prevent the national ruin anticipated by them. They took up arms on more than one occasion, as has been previously mentioned, but Stephen succeeded in quelling the dangerous rebellions. Assisted by the foreign knights, he broke the power of paganism, and he showed no regard for any pretence of national aspirations. Those who still harbored the ancient faith in their hearts kept it secretly locked up there, and for the time being at least did homage to the new faith and the power of the king. The possessions of the rebels were devoted to ecclesiastical uses, and the king, at the same time, bestirred himself in the organization of the triumphant Church. He divided the converted territory into ecclesiastical districts, providing each with a spiritual chief, and placing the ecclesiastical chief of Gran at the head of all and of the Church government instituted by him. He caused fortified places to be erected throughout the newly organized Church territory for the defence of Christianity, as well as for the maintenance of his own worldly power, which began nearly to rival that of the other Christian kings.
But in order successfully to carry into effect these measures, Stephen had to obtain their confirmation by at least one of the leading powers which then shared in the mastery over Europe—namely, imperialism and papacy. The emperors, on the one hand, claimed supreme authority over all the pagan populations converted to Christianity, while the papal see, on the other hand, was inclined to protect against the empire the smaller nations, which were jealous of their independence, in order to gain allies for the impending struggle of the Church against the empire. Stephen was quick to choose between these two. The German Church—except in the abortive attempt made by Bishop Pilgrin—had contributed but little to the conversion of the Hungarian people, and it could therefore lay no claim to exercise any authority over the Church of Hungary. Nor had the German kings done any thing to assist Geyza and Stephen in their attempts at conversion. Stephen had before him the example of his brother-in-law, Boleslas of Poland, who had but recently applied to the papal see for the bestowal of the royal crown, in order to secure the independence of his position as a ruler and that of the Church in his realm. The religious bent of Stephen’s mind, combined with his acute perception of the true interests of his country, induced him, at last, in the spring of 1000, to send a brilliant embassy to Rome, under the lead of the faithful, experienced, and indefatigable Astrik.
Pope Sylvester II., than whom no one exerted himself more strenuously to increase the papal power, received the Hungarian envoys cordially, and upon learning from Astrik their mission, he exclaimed: “I am but apostolic, but thy master who sent thee here is, in truth, the apostle of Christ himself!” He readily complied with Stephen’s every request, adding even more signal favors. He confirmed the bishoprics already established, and empowered him to establish additional ones, conferring upon Stephen, at the same time, such rights in the administration of the affairs of the Church of Hungary as hitherto had been allowed only to the most illustrious princes in Christendom, the sovereigns of France and Germany. He granted to Stephen and his successors the right of styling themselves “apostolic kings,” and to have carried before them, on solemn occasions, the double cross, as an emblem of their independent ecclesiastical authority. As a further mark of his favor, the Pope presented Stephen with the crown which had been destined for Boleslas of Poland, in order to symbolize for all times to come the blessing bestowed upon the Hungarian kingdom by God’s representative upon earth. The crown of to-day, weighing altogether 136 ounces, is not quite identical with the crown that adorned St. Stephen’s head. It now consists of two parts. The upper and more ancient part is the crown sent by Pope Sylvester, the lower one has been added at a later date. The former is formed by two intersecting hoops and connected at the four lower ends by a border. On its top is a small globe capped by a cross, which is now in an inclined position, and beneath it is seen a picture of the Saviour in sitting posture, surrounded by the sun, the moon, and two trees. The entire surface of the two hoops is adorned with the figures of the twelve apostles, each having an appropriate Latin inscription, but four of these figures are covered by the lower crown. The lower or newer crown is an open diadem from which project, in front, representations of ruins, which terminate in a crest alternating with semicircular bands. The seams of the latter are covered with smaller-sized pearls, and larger oval pearls adorn the crests. Nine small drooping chains, laid out with precious stones, are attached to the lower rim. A large sapphire occupies the centre of the front of the diadem, and above it, on a semicircular shield, is a representation of the Saviour. To the left and right of the sapphire are representations of the archangels, Michael and Gabriel, and of the four saints, Damianus, Dominic, Cosmus, and George, and, finally, of the Greek emperors, Constantine Porphyrogenitus and Michael Ducas, and of the Hungarian king Geyza, with inscriptions. With regard to the upper crown no doubt whatever is entertained as to its being the one sent by Pope Sylvester, and concerning the lower crown Hungarian historians state that it was sent, about 1073, by the Greek emperor, Michael Ducas, to the Hungarian duke, Geyza, as a mark of gratitude for the good services rendered to him by the latter. The exact date when the two crowns united cannot be ascertained. This minute description of the crown of Hungary may be well pardoned, considering the antiquity and the high veneration in which this relic of the past is held by the Hungarian people.
The legend of St. Stephen speaks thus of Astrik’s mission to the Eternal City: “Father Astrik having accomplished his errand in Rome, and obtained even more than he had asked for, returned joyfully home. As he was nearing Gran the king came out to meet him with great pomp, and Father Astrik showed him the presents he had brought with him from Rome, the royal crown and the cross. Stephen offered up thanks to God, and subsequently expressed his gratitude to the Pope for the presents received. The great prelates, the clergy, the lords, and the people having listened to the contents of the letter conveying the apostolic benediction, with one heart and soul and with shouts of joy acclaimed Stephen their king, and having been anointed with the sacred oil, he was crowned on the day of Mary’s ascension (15th of August) at Gran.”
That highly important letter brought by Astrik from Rome, which established the independent authority of the Hungarian kings over the national church, has been preserved to this day. The following lines of the papal bull may in some measure characterize the age in which they were written, and illustrate, at the same time, the importance which was ascribed to these missives during many centuries:
“My glorious son,” the letter proceeds to say, after having in the introduction exalted Stephen’s apostolic zeal, “all that which thou hast desired of the apostolic see, the crown, the royal title, the metropolitan see at Gran, and the other bishoprics, we joyfully allow and grant thee by the authority derived from Almighty God and Saints Peter and Paul, together with the apostolic and our own benediction. The country which thou hast offered, together with thy own self, to St. Peter, and the people of Hungary, present and future, being henceforth received under the protection of the Holy Roman Church, we return them to thy wisdom, thy heirs, and rightful successors, to possess, rule, and govern the same. Thy heirs and successors, too, having been lawfully elected by the magnates of the land, shall be likewise bound to testify to ourselves and our successors their obedience and respect, to prove themselves subjects of the Holy Roman Church, to steadfastly adhere to, and support the religion of Christ our Lord and Saviour. And as thy Highness did not object to undertake the apostolic office of proclaiming and spreading the faith of Christ, we feel moved to confer, besides, upon thy Excellency and out of regard for thy merits, upon thy heirs and lawful successors, this especial privilege: we permit, desire, and request that, as thou and thy successors will be crowned with the crown we sent thee, the wearing of the double cross may serve thee and them as an apostolic token, even so that, according to the teachings of God’s mercy, thou and they may direct and order, in our and our successors’ place and stead, the present and future churches of thy realm. * * * We also beseech Almighty God that thou mayest rule and wear the crown, and that He shall cause the fruits of His truth to grow and increase; that He may abundantly water with the dew of His blessing the new plants of thy realm; that He may preserve unimpaired thy country for thee, and thee for thy country; that He may protect thee against thy open and secret foes, and adorn thee, after the vexations of thy earthly rule, with the eternal crown in His heavenly kingdom.”
The brilliant successes so rapidly achieved by Stephen during the first years of his reign secured the triumph of Christianity and of the royal authority in the western half of the country only. The adherents of the ancient faith and liberty still remained in a majority in the eastern, more-thinly peopled regions beyond the Theiss and in Transylvania. Gyula, the duke of Transylvania, and the uncle of Stephen, was not slow in protesting against the new kingdom and the innovations coupled with it. The rebellion failed, as we have already seen. Gyula and his whole family were made captives by the victors, and neither he nor his posterity ever regained their lost power. Transylvania was more closely united with the mother country, and from that time, during a period extending over more than five centuries, was ruled by vayvodes appointed by the kings. Soon after Stephen opposed victoriously the Petchenegs, the allies of the defeated Gyula, who were settled beyond the Transylvanian mountains in the country known at present as Roumania, and having also defeated Akhtum, who, trusting in the protection of the Greek emperor, was disposed to act the master in the region enclosed by the Danube, Theiss, and Maros, there was no one in the whole land who—openly, at least—dared to refuse homage to the crown pressing the temples of Stephen and to the double cross. During the twenty years succeeding the events just narrated, history is entirely silent as to any great martial enterprise of Stephen. It is true that hostilities were frequent along the northern and western borders against the Poles and Czechs, but they were never of a character to endanger the territorial integrity of the country. During those years of comparative peace Stephen firmly established the Hungarian Christian kingdom.
The Christian Church was the corner-stone of all social and political order in the days of Stephen. The Church pointed out the principal objects of human endeavor, marked out the ways leading to the accomplishment of those aims, drew the bounds of the liberty of action, and prescribed to mankind its duties. It educated, instructed, and disciplined the people in the name and in the place of the state, and in doing this the Church acted for the benefit of the state. Hence it was that Stephen, in organizing the Hungarian Christian Church and placing it on a firmer basis, consulted quite as much the interests of his royal power as the promptings of his apostolic zeal. Where the Christian faith gained ground, there the respect for royalty also took root, and the first care of royalty, when its authority had become powerful, was to preserve the authority of the Church.
Immediately on his accession to the throne, Stephen addressed himself to the great and arduous task, and in all places where the promises of the holy faith, scattered by his proselyting zeal, met with a grateful soil, he established the earliest religious communities. Later, as the number of parishes rapidly increased, he appointed chief prelates to superintend and maintain the flocks and to keep them together. The ecclesiastical dignities and offices were conferred, in the beginning, without exception, upon members of the religious orders, they being at that time the most faithful warriors of Christianity against paganism, and the most devoted servants of the triumphant church. Stephen took good care of them, and rewarded them according to their merits. He founded four abbeys for these pious monks, who all of them belonged to the religious order of St. Benedict. The abbey of Pannonhalom was the wealthiest and most distinguished among these; and to this day, it maintains the chief rank among the greatly increased number of kindred societies. The first schools were connected with the cathedrals and monasteries, and although their mission consisted mainly in propagating the new church and faith, they yet cultivated the scanty learning of the age.
Stephen endowed the bishoprics and monasteries with a generosity truly royal. He granted them large possessions in land, together with numerous bondsmen inhabiting the estates. The Hungarian Catholic Church has preserved the larger part of these grants to this day. His munificence was displayed in the cathedral at Stuhlweissenburg (Székesfejérvár), built in honor of the Virgin Mary, of whose marvels of enchantment the old chronicles speak with reverential awe. The chronicler calls it “the magnificent church famous for its wondrous workmanship, the walls of which are adorned with beautiful carvings, and whose floor is inlaid with marble slabs,” and then he proceeds in this strain: “Those can bear witness to the truth of my words who have beheld there with their own eyes the numerous chasubles, sacred utensils, and other ornaments, the many exquisite tablets wrought of pure gold and inlaid with the most precious jewels about the altars, the chalice of admirable workmanship standing on Christ’s table, and the various vessels of crystal, onyx, gold, and silver with which the sacristy was crowded.”
Stephen’s munificence was not confined to his own realm, and numerous memorials of his beneficence and generosity are still preserved in foreign lands. As soon as Christianity had gained a firm foothold in the land, and the Hungarian people felt no more as strangers in the family of Christian nations, the natives, either singly or in larger numbers, began to journey to the revered cities of Rome, Constantinople, and Jerusalem. Stephen took care that these pilgrims should feel at home in the strange places they visited. Thus, amongst other things, he had a church and dwelling-house built in Rome for the accommodation of twelve canons, providing it also with a hospitium (inn). In Constantinople and Jerusalem also he caused a convent and church to be erected, within whose hospitable walls the Hungarian pilgrim might find rest for his weary body, after the fatigues of the long journey, and spiritual comfort for his thirsting soul. He was ever mindful of the interests of Christianity both at home and abroad. He not only founded the Hungarian Christian Church, but knew how to make it universally respected, and, in his own time already, the popes were in the habit of referring to Hungary as the “archiregnum”—that is, a country superior to the others.
In establishing the Hungarian kingdom Stephen necessarily shaped its institutions after the pattern of the Western States, but fortunately for the nation he possessed a rare discrimination which made him imitate his neighbors in those things only which were beneficial or unavoidable, whilst he rejected their errors and refused to introduce them into his own land. At that period feudalism, although it had sadly degenerated, prevailed, England alone excepted, throughout the whole West. It was a system which did not permit the strengthening of the central power of the state, and the countries subjected to it were divided up into parts but loosely connected, each of which acknowledged an almost independent master, who, although he held his county or duchy from his king, and owned and governed it by virtue of that tenure, was yet powerful enough to defy with impunity the sovereign himself. Without adverting to the pitiful dismemberment of Italy, we need only mention that France was divided into about fifty, and Germany into five small principalities of this character. The kings themselves might make use of their kingly title, they might bask in the splendor of their own royalty, but of the plenitude of their royal power they could but rarely and then only temporarily boast.
Stephen’s chief aim was to enhance the royal power by rendering it as independent as he possibly could of restrictions on the part of the nation, and to introduce such institutions as would prove most efficacious in the defence of the integrity and unity of nation and country. He left the nobility—the descendants of those who had taken possession of the soil at the conquest of Hungary—in the undisturbed enjoyment of their ancient privileges; he did not restrict their rights, but in turn did not allow himself to be hampered by them. He only introduced an innovation with reference to the tenure of their property, which he changed from tribal to individual possession, using his royal authority to protect each man in the possession of the estates thus allotted to him. The nobles governed themselves, administered justice amongst themselves, through men of their own selection, and the king interfered only if he was especially requested to judge between them. The nobles had always free access to the king’s person, not only during Stephen’s reign, but for many centuries afterwards. The nobility was exempted from the payment of any kind of taxes into the royal treasury, and they joined the king’s army only if the country was menaced by a foreign foe, or if they chose to offer their services of their own free will.
Inasmuch as the great power of the nobility had its foundations on freehold possessions in land, Stephen was careful to support the dignity of the royal power by the control of large domains. The royal family were already the owners of private estates of large extent, and to these the king now added those vast tracts of land which, scattered throughout the whole realm, and more particularly extending along the frontiers, were without masters, and could not well pass into private hands, as the scant Hungarian population was inadequate for their occupation. These domains, which, for the most part, were thinly inhabited by the indigenous conquered populations, speaking their own languages, and the colonization of which by foreigners became a special object with the kings, were now declared state property, and as such taken possession of and administered by Stephen. He divided these possessions into small domains, called in Latin comitatus, county, and in Hungarian megye, eyre or circuit, and placed at the head of the administration of each county a royal official styled comes, count. These districts subsequently gave rise to the county system, which was destined to play such an important part in the history of the country, but originally they were designed to answer a twofold purpose, one financial and one military. One portion of the people living on these royal lands had to hand over to the royal treasury a certain part of their produce, whilst another portion was bound to military service for life. In this way the royal counties furnished a sort of standing army, always at the disposal of the king, and supplied, at the same time, the revenues necessary to support that army. Stephen found also other means to replenish his treasury and to add to his military strength. The revenues derived from the mineral and salt mines, and from the coining of money, flowed into the royal coffers; he levied, besides, a thirtieth on all merchandise, market-tolls at fairs, and collected tolls on the roads, and at bridges and ferries. The towns and the privileged territories had to pay taxes, and, on a given day, to send presents to the king. Stephen added, besides, to his military strength by granting to individuals—mostly to native or foreign noblemen of reduced circumstances—extensive estates in fee, subject to the obligation, in case of need, of joining the royal army with a fixed number of armed men. The Petchenegs, Szeklers, and Ruthenes settled as border guards along the frontiers were also obliged to render military service, and even the royal cities sent their contingents of troops equipped by them. This brief enumeration of the means employed by Stephen to strengthen his throne, will make it evident that he provided abundant resources for maintaining the royal power, such as none of his neighbors, or even the rulers of the countries further west, had, then, at their disposal.
The royal court was the centre and faithful mirror of that kingly power, and, in its ordering and conduct, Stephen was careful to imitate foreign courts, not only in their main features, but at times even in their most minute details. The court of his imperial brother-in-law, Henry II. of Germany, especially, served him as a model. Thus it was held that the person of the king was sacred, and that to offend against him who was the embodiment of the majesty of the state, was looked upon as a crime to be punished with loss of life and fortune. The king stood above all the living, and above the law itself. Stephen surrounded himself with the distinguished men, lay and ecclesiastical, of the realm, and, aided by their counsel, administered the affairs of the country, but his word and will was a law to everybody. Amongst the officers of his court were a lord-palatine, a court-judge, a lord of the treasury, and many others, who, in part, assisted him in the government of the state and, in part, ministered to the comforts of the court. At a much later period only, after the lapse of centuries, did the offices of palatine, judge, and treasurer, become dignities of the realm.
The government of the country in time of peace involved no great care or trouble, for only the royal domains or counties and the royal cities possessing privileges fell within the sphere of the direct power of the king and court. The Church and nobility governed themselves and applied to the king in cases of appeal only, the royal towns conducted their affairs through the agency of judges and chief magistrates elected by themselves, whilst the bulk of the people, composed of the various classes of bondmen and servants, were completely subjected to the authority and jurisdiction of the lords of the land. The bondman might move about freely, but he could never emancipate himself from the tutelage of the landlords. The Hungarian nation was composed of the same social strata which were to be met with everywhere in the West, and the growth of these pursued the same direction, differing, however, in one particular—the relation of the large landed proprietors, the nobility, to their king. To these exceptional relations must be attributed the fact that the political changes in the country did not run in parallel grooves with those of the other western states. Stephen granted no constitution, all complete, to his people; its growth was the work of centuries, but the country was indebted to him for having organized the state in such a manner that, whilst there was nothing in the way of a free and healthy development of its political institutions, its inherent strength was such that it could successfully resist the many and severe shocks to which in the course of nearly a thousand years it was subjected.