János Szikra
In the sixteenth century, nearly every one of our warriors strove to earn a good name and the honour of knighthood. These two things brought him recognition not only among his own people, but among the Turks as well. Countless contemporary letters attest to how jealously the border soldiers guarded their knightly honour, how determined they were that nothing should tarnish it — for they could endure anything except the diminishing of their reputation and standing in the eyes of Turkish warriors. In many a border soldier's letter we read: "I would sooner have my death than my life, but I will not allow my knightly honour to be shamed. If I have preserved it until now, I shall not disgrace myself hereafter either."
Let us not think that it was mere vanity and boastfulness that spurred our soldiers to seek a good name and knightly honour. The Hungarian soldier was born with the urge to prove that he was as bold and valiant as the son of any other nation! And if ever there was a time to demonstrate this, it was in the face of the Turks occupying the homeland. Thus the contest for martial supremacy was constant. National pride continually drove our men to perform deeds that would even arouse the admiration of the Turks. And so there were knightly duels, daring and incredible adventures, unheard-of feats of bravery — of which the Hungarian chronicles record nothing. It is sad but true that a whole host of insignificant foreigners found their way into our history simply because imperial favour and shortsightedness assigned them a role, while our own finest men were left out — for fortune did not raise them to a higher station, even though they burned and blazed in defence of their country, and sacrificed the greatest treasure of earthly existence — their very lives — for their homeland.
And the further we move from those turbulent times, the stronger oblivion becomes: fewer and fewer people concern themselves with the heroes of the Hungarian age of chivalry. Times change, and so does the thinking of men. In the sixteenth century, fame won on the battlefield and sacrifice made in defence of the homeland were held to be great and glorious. Worthy warriors were celebrated by minstrels and honoured by the garrisons of the border fortresses. Even the warriors of Turkish border forts praised such men and raised a cup to their health. And the songs of valour passed from mouth to mouth in the border castles.
Those who fell in defence of the homeland were accorded great honour. The most eminent warriors were accompanied to their graves by the mourning of the whole nation. Their deeds were carved in marble and a funeral banner placed above their tomb. This banner, known as the burial standard, was the officer's battle flag — thus the herald of his glory accompanied him to the grave. The armour and the chief horse of a fallen hero were taken to the king, who had the armour placed in the imperial collection.
This remembrance, this recognition of merit, was a beautiful thing indeed. Nor did it remain without effect. In our fighting youth, remembrance kindled the desire for glory, the spirit of sacrifice for the homeland, and patriotism. By the example of great men, they too strove to become great.
And many years passed, yet in the sixteenth century the memory of these warriors did not fade into oblivion. Every worthy border soldier spoke of them. Their example fired those who still fought; stories of them were told to children, and they gave comfort to the old men worn out by years of battle.
The fighting people of the sixteenth century firmly believed that the burial standard would fly forever over the graves of heroes who had distinguished themselves in defence of the homeland, and that later generations would forever recall what had been carved in marble. It was a frail belief, a vain hope. The banner-tipped lances soon fell to rags, and the iron tooth of time ground down even the marble memorials. Nothing remained. Nor was there anyone to revive the memories of the past. Perhaps there was no one for whom to do so. For the thinking of men changes in step with time itself. Those who were once considered great are in time forgotten altogether. And the faster time flies, the greater the gulf that opens between the beliefs and thinking of the old world and the new. What past centuries held to be glorious and great, the present barely mentions in passing — if it mentions it at all. Say what you will, the age of heroes has been discredited, and those who once shone as brilliant examples to our youth may perhaps never recover their former lustre. And yet, what no one had anticipated came to pass — the time arrived when we must revive the glorious struggles of the old defenders of the homeland. Our country has found itself in a situation no better — if not worse — than it faced in the time of the Turks. From the ashes of our former glory, we must once again seek out the pearls. We must revive the memory of the great fighters and their struggles in defence of the homeland, so that we may learn and draw lessons from their example. If we wish to see the old Hungarian homeland restored, this is an absolute necessity.
In the mid-sixteenth century, few names were better known across the breadth of Hungary than that of Bálint Magyar. He was spoken of at every turn! He was a mighty, brave, and powerful man — the beating heart of the battles fought in Transdanubia, a seasoned master of personal combat, a supreme example of the true hussar, from whom many a fine warrior drew courage and spirit. He was a contemporary of the great György Thúry, the heroic Markó Horváth, and Miklós Zrínyi, and a sharer in their campaigns. He came close to being the defender of Szigetvár himself. And had he accepted the captaincy of Sziget that was offered to him, we can be certain he would have held the line just as Markó Horváth or Miklós Zrínyi did — for in matters of warfare he too was a skilled and courageous warrior, for he too knew no fear, and he too did not dread death. For a full generation he defended the region of Lake Balaton and fought fierce battles with the Turks for possession of Somogy County. And as long as his arm held strength, the Turk could not call himself master there. Nothing better illustrates his martial renown than the fact that the neighbouring Turkish lords complained of him constantly, challenged him to single combat, and any Turkish warrior who could break a lance with him considered it a matter of pride.
Yet it was not only the Turks who complained about Bálint Magyar. From the Hungarian side too, complaints against him flooded in like a rising tide. He was a forceful man, like Miklós Zrínyi, and when his soldiers were pressed for food, they did not hesitate to thrust their sickles into another man's wheat. Moreover, Bálint Magyar himself did not return to their former owners the villages and farmsteads recaptured from the Turks, but instead attached them to the castle domain so that the garrison might have something to live on. The owners of the occupied estates then raged against Bálint Magyar with bitter hatred. They denounced him at court and in parliament. And since they managed to win over a county or two, the parliament — where no one spoke in Magyar's defence — declared him a malefactor, that is, a criminal. There was even talk of sending troops against him. However, the royal commissioners dispatched to investigate also heard Bálint Magyar's defence, and it emerged that the many charges laid against him were largely fabrications of the interested parties. And not a hair on Bálint Magyar's head was harmed. He had done no more than his contemporaries — the other border captains. Miklós Zrínyi, Markó Horváth, Ferenc Tahy and others were likewise showered with accusations. Royal commissioners were sent to deal with them too, but to very little effect. It could not be helped — the circumstances in Hungary at that time were such that castle captains could only keep their unpaid garrisons together by personally using force to provide them with the means of survival! The border captains defended many towns and villages from Turkish plunder. They shed their blood defending the castle domains entrusted to them. No one mentioned that! But when a starving garrison took something out of necessity, those who suffered the loss raised such a clamour that it was heard all the way to parliament.
All of this Bálint Magyar set out more than once in his letters. He also explained that the estates and villages recaptured from the Turks were needed for the upkeep of the castles and the provisioning of the soldiers. When in 1559 György Thúry, captain of Palota, claimed such villages for himself, Bálint Magyar wrote in exasperation to the Palatine: "Truly I would not have expected this of my good friend, that he should defame me thus in a letter to Your Lordship. Thúry — he says — doubtless wants those villages for himself so that there might be a little wine for them. But the villages cannot be defended from Palota. Until now he alone has defended them against the Turks. 'Why — what His Majesty gave me, won from Turkish hands at the cost of my kinsmen's and my servants' lives! — all of that he distributed to the castles up there, some to Újvár, some elsewhere. I know of few places closer to the Turkish throat than Fonyód! Now let His Majesty give the house to someone else too; for God sees that I have nothing left to sustain it with — I am utterly spent.'"
The Hajdú marauders roaming and plundering Transdanubia were also attributed to Bálint Magyar. Yet they were not his men. But the king still had a reprimanding letter sent to Bálint Magyar. "I believe," Magyar writes in reply, "that whoever made this unjust complaint against me to His Majesty is no friend of mine!… The captain of Sziget, Markó Horváth, could tell you who keeps the masterless Hajdúk! He punishes them often enough — some are from Csurgó, some from Palota, some from Tihany."
Not long after this letter was written, Bálint Magyar's soldiers captured Mihály Pribék, one of the leaders of the masterless Hajdúk — and László Gyulaffy freed him by force, for he had been in his service! The other chief of the plundering Hajdúk, Tamás Majsai, served at Palota. Given all this, it seems rather strange that it was still Bálint Magyar who was accused.
Magyar was quite right to write of such things: "no one can stop the mouth of those who make false complaints behind one's back."
Bálint Magyar — as we can see from the foregoing — was a true son of the sixteenth century, full of both the faults and the virtues of his time. Hungarian was his name, Hungarian was his heart, Hungarian was his thinking. He had always lived on the bread of a Hungarian lord; he served as court captain of the forces of Palatine Tamás Nádasdy and remained in his service to the very end. The king offered him a higher position on two occasions, but Bálint Magyar had no desire to change masters. Nádasdy held him in high esteem and, when necessary, defended him — and Magyar repaid this with loyalty and devotion. He was a warrior through and through, and valued knightly honour and reputation above all else. For him it would have been a living death had any stain fallen upon his name and knightly standing. For this reason, even in old age, he took up the challenge against the finest Turkish warriors. Hence his name became very well known among the Turks. They feared him, yet at the same time respected his martial qualities. He did not waste words on his own deeds. He knew nothing of boasting and bragging. In his letters he scarcely thought it worth mentioning his personal merits. As a man, he always proved a good companion among his warriors — their helper in need, their defender in trouble. He gladly raised a toast among them, and when he had the means, he was happy to reward them with wine. But when his mood turned to anger, he could strip even the baptismal water from his opponent. Being a quick-tempered man, he fell out with his neighbours readily, but once his anger had passed, he made peace just as quickly. Being a poor nobleman, he was obliged to expand the domains of the castles entrusted to him — for in times of non-payment, the burden of maintaining his soldiers fell on his own shoulders. That such acquisitions earned him many enemies goes without saying. But knowing no fear, he was undaunted by the accusations of his enemies. Besides, he firmly believed that what he had done was right. For this reason he was always ready to submit his case to the law — knowing that it was his accusers who would end up in trouble there.
It was around this time that Bálint Magyar's enemies — Miklós Zrínyi, Ferenc Tahy, and András Pernezy — stirred up Somogy County to lodge complaints against Magyar at court and in parliament. This was easy enough for them to achieve, since feeling against Bálint Magyar was already running high on account of the outrages committed by his free Hajdúk. The Palatine received the charges against Bálint Magyar with understandable anger. In his fury he wrote to him, telling him to make peace first with God and then with his fellow men! Bálint Magyar replied to the Palatine thus: "Your Lordship understands the ways of the Hungarians — that they always wish to devour the very man who has served them! But it is not Somogy County that complains against me, but those who live beyond the Dráva, such as Ferenc Tahy and András Pernezy, who rest in my shadow!"
The king sent commissioners to Somogy to investigate the complaints. "I fear nothing from the commissioners," writes Bálint Magyar, "for I trust I can stop the mouths of all the chatterers!" He adds to this declaration that the Turks are carrying bloody spears through the villages. It is common knowledge that they are preparing to march on Fonyód. "With God's help," he writes, "they will find us here."
Somogy County sent István Pernezy to Archduke Charles to incite him against Bálint Magyar. Pernezy must have blackened poor Magyar's name considerably, for Archduke Charles himself writes that Pernezy had presented to him unheard-of and terrible misdeeds!
According to Archduke Charles, Bálint Magyar held a very strong castle on an island in Lake Balaton. Since Miklós Zrínyi bore him a grudge over his Hajdúk's depredations, it would be fitting to entrust him with the capture of Fonyód Castle. András Báthory and Ferenc Tahy also hated him. The three declared that if given the authority, they would punish Bálint Magyar.
Having won over both the court and the governing authorities, Magyar's enemies also presented their largely false accusations at the parliament of 1563. And since there was no one to defend Bálint Magyar, parliament declared him a public criminal. It also obligated him to return the castles of Szigliget and Fonyód to the Lengyel orphans. The statute further stated that under the law of 1546, Bálint Magyar was to be punished in person and property.
Tamás Nádasdy was no longer alive at this point, and so there was no one to inform the members of parliament that Bálint Magyar did not possess Szigliget and Fonyód Castle as his own, but administered and defended them as the lawful guardian of the Thoti-Lengyel orphans.
In the event, the law of 1546 was not applied to Bálint Magyar. All that happened was that Máté Csombordy and Péter Simándy were sent as royal commissioners. Having completed their inquiry, they came to a peaceful agreement with Bálint Magyar. Under the terms of the agreement he was to return Szigliget and Fonyód Castle by an appointed deadline. But Bálint Magyar gave no thought to the deadline whatsoever. King Maximilian then set a new deadline, but Magyar again ignored it.
Whether a further agreement was reached after this, we do not know. What is certain is that not a hair on Bálint Magyar's head was harmed, and Fonyód Castle remained in his hands. However, the court's treatment of him brought about a significant change in Magyar's thinking. He who had always been loyal to the king now turned his eyes elsewhere — beginning to lean towards the party of the son of King János!
In the year 1570, the Turks built a castle opposite the hated Bálint Magyar's fortress. It posed a grave threat to both Fonyód and Szigliget. Bálint Magyar did everything in his power to forestall the danger. He went in person to His Majesty in Wiener Neustadt and requested assistance. György Bocskay writes on this occasion to Batthyány: "Bálint Magyar is here now. He is pressing his case, that either his castle be demolished or the Turkish one, which they have just built opposite — but if they want to demolish it, they must come with such force as to face the Pasha of Buda himself. As far as I can tell, however, nothing will come of this for now — they will just put some provisions and some foot soldiers in it."
And indeed, the matter turned out just as Bocskay had written. On orders from above, János Bornemissza, the captain of Pápa, sent foot soldiers to Magyar's aid. However, Bálint Magyar spoke very poorly of these men. When János Bornemissza learned of this, he turned to General Salm, writing to him: "The letter that was written by Bálint Magyar, in which he described the foot soldiers as cobblers, furriers, tailors, and blacksmiths — please send that letter to me, Your Excellency."
The fact that the Turks had built a castle opposite Magyar's fortress clearly indicated the intention of the neighbouring Turks: nothing less than to encircle Bálint Magyar and capture his castle. His eyes and ears therefore had to be constantly alert to avoid disaster. To make matters worse, he was by this time frequently ill. But even so, he refused to let himself be shamed in his old age. He held the castles entrusted to him. In the autumn of 1571, the Turks began to gather on all sides, and it seemed likely that they would take Szigliget. Bálint Magyar was lying gravely ill in the castle at the time. He therefore sought help — not from the court, but from his good friends, and above all from Boldizsár Batthyány. He dictated his letter to his wife, Brigitta Lengyel. He urgently begged Batthyány to send men to his aid, as Szigliget was in danger.
The explanation for this appeal for help is straightforward. After Tamás Nádasdy's death, Bálint Magyar had forged a friendship with Boldizsár Batthyány. This powerful lord and outstanding military commander certainly knew the old Bálint Magyar well. And if he consistently showed him goodwill, it is clear that he knew how to appreciate Magyar's merits. We do not know what Batthyány replied to the letter of Lady Brigitta Lengyel, but what is certain is that he sent soldiers to Bálint Magyar's aid.
As soon as Magyar had recovered from his illness, he wrote to Batthyány on several occasions. The tone of these letters clearly shows that Bálint Magyar was held in great esteem in the Batthyány household. Perhaps the last letter Bálint Magyar ever wrote was also addressed to Boldizsár Batthyány. He wrote it on 9 January 1573 from Hídvég. In it he recommends a young nobleman to Batthyány as a familiaris: "To Your Lordship," he writes, "I commend a young man by the name of Mihály Esegváry. I beg Your Lordship, as my trusted master, to take him into your household for my sake, and to teach and instruct him. And for as long as the young man cannot yet repay Your Lordship himself, I shall repay Your Lordship on his behalf."
Poor Bálint Magyar could render Batthyány little further service. Not long after writing the letter mentioned above, he died. On 12 May 1573, János Párnás reported to Ferenc Nádasdy that he had already written some days earlier of the death of Lord Bálint Magyar. His chief horse had, as ordered, been sent up to Keresztúr.
This brief report too proclaims that with Bálint Magyar, a great warrior departed from this world. For according to sixteenth-century custom, it was only the greatest heroes whose chief horse and armour were acquired for the court.
Bálint Magyar defended Szigliget and Fonyód Castle for more than three decades. He held them with honour to the very end. Yet two years after his death, the Turks had already taken Fonyód, slaughtering the garrison found within.
József Paál
heritage conservation engineer