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THE HISTORY OF POLAND
CHAPTER II.
ZENITH AND DECLINE
HEDWIG (1382-1386 A.D.)
The death of Louis was speedily followed by troubles raised chiefly by the
turbulent nobles. Sigismund advanced to claim his rights. Semowit,
duke of Masovia, and a Piast,
also aspired to the throne; a civil war desolated several provinces. The latter
prince might have united the suffrages in his favour had he not exhibited great ferocity, rashness, impatience, and other qualities
sufficient to disgust the Poles with his pretensions. The factions at length
agreed that the crown should be offered to Hedwig, youngest daughter of the
late king, and granddaughter of Casimir the Great, on condition that she should
accept as husband any one of the princes whom her subjects might propose to
her. As this princess was only in her fourteenth year, the deputies treated
with her mother, Elizabeth. That queen, however, being bent on the succession
of her eldest daughter, Maria, to whom the Poles had sworn obedience, had
recourse to policy. She accepted the throne, indeed, for Hedwig; but, on the
plea that the princess was too young to undertake the onerous duties of
government, she despatched Sigismund to act as
regent, in the view that he would be able to reconcile the people to his
authority. Her stratagem failed; he was not even allowed to enter the country;
and a messenger was sent to inform her that if Hedwig was not given to the
nation in two months a new election would be made. This menace had the desired
effect; Hedwig arrived in Poland, and was immediately crowned at Cracow.
The beauty of this princess, her affability, her virtues,
discernible even at that tender age, and above all her crown, soon brought her
many suitors. Among them was the duke of Masovia; but
the evils his ambition had brought on the country (his ravages had never ceased
since the death of Louis) caused his rejection. The most powerful was Jagello, son of Gedymin, duke of
Lithuania, and his proposals most advantageous to the nation. He offered not
only to abjure paganism, and to introduce the Christian faith into his
hereditary dominions—Lithuania, Samogitia, and a
portion of Russia—but to incorporate these dominions with the Polish crown, and
even to reconquer Silesia, Pomerania, and the other territories formerly
dependent on it. His pretensions were instantly supported by the whole nation;
but a difficulty intervened which threatened to blast its fairest hopes.
Young as was the queen, she had long loved and been affianced
to William, duke of Austria. She remembered his elegant form, his pleasing
manners, and, above all, the tender affection he had shown her in her
childhood, and she could not avoid contrasting him with the rude, savage, uncomely
pagan. Her subjects well knew what passed in her mind; they knew, too, that she
had written to hasten the arrival of Duke William; they watched her day and
night, intercepted her letters, and kept her like a prisoner within her own
palace. When her lover arrived he was not permitted to approach her. She wished
to see him once—but once—to bid him a last adieu; in vain. Irritated, or
perhaps desperate at the refusal, she one day seized a hatchet, with which she
threatened to break open her iron gates to admit the duke, and it was not
without difficulty that she was forced to desist from her purpose. This was a
paroxysm of the passion scarcely to be wondered at in one of her strong feelings.
But she was blessed with an understanding remarkably clear for her years: in
her cooler moments she perceived the advantages that must accrue to her people
from her acceptance of Jagello; and, after a few
violent struggles with nature, she resolved to sec the formidable barbarian,
and, if possible, to subdue the repugnance she felt for him. He arrived, and
did not displease her. His baptism by the name of Wladislaw—a name dear to the
Poles— his marriage, and coronation followed.
Through the marriage of Hedwig with Jagello Lithuania and Poland were united under one crown. This duchy was an immense
accession to the geographical magnitude of Poland. It extended from Poland on
the west, beyond the Dnieper or Borysthenes on the
east, and from Livonia on the north. The Lithuanians and Samogitians, who are
different clans of the same origin, are now generally believed to have sprung
from a different stem from the Poles. They spoke a language widely dissimilar
to the Polish or the Russian. Their religion was a singular medley of idolatry:
they believed in a supreme god or Jupiter, whom they called the omnipotent and
all-wise spirit. They worshipped the god of thunder under the name of Perkunas; they paid homage to a god of the harvests; there
were also maintained priests who were continually feeding a sacred fire in honour of Parni, the god of the
seasons; and their flamen was called Ziutz. Trees,
form tarns, and plants all came in for a share of their veneration. They had
sacred serpents called Givoite, and believed in
guardian spirits of bees, cattle, etc. As to their government, it was, like
that of all other barbarous nations, despotic; and the nobles were less
numerous and more tyrannical to the lower orders than in Poland. Ringold was
the first who united the various provinces, and assumed the title of grand duke
of Lithuania in 1235.
In 1320 we find the famous Gedymin on the ducal throne. He wrested Volhinia, Severia, Kiev, and Tchernizov from the Russians. He divided this dukedom between his sons, but Olgerd made himself the sole possessor. Jagello,
one of his thirteen sons, succeeded him in 1381. When raised to the throne of
Poland, he appointed his cousin, Witold, to the government of Lithuania.
This province did not so readily coalesce with Poland as was
expected. Jagello did not find the people very docile
disciples; for, though the Romish faith was partially disseminated in Lithuania
proper, and Vilna made the seat of a bishop, the districts which had been
subject to Russia had long adopted the
doctrines of the Greek church, and obstinately adhered to their tenets; while
the Samogitians refused to accept any modification of the Christian religion;
and though the episcopal city Miedniki was built at
this time, they clung firmly for a long period to their own strange and wild
superstitions. In the latter part of this reign (in 1434), however, the union
of the Roman and Greek churches took place at the convent of Florence, and the
bishop of Kiev adopted the Roman ritual, but the Greek clergy were allowed the
privilege of marriage.
Nor was the political union effected without opposition. The
Lithuanian nobles were afraid of losing their ascendency over their serfs by
their connection with the less despotic Polish barons; and Witold, urged on by
the emperor Sigismund, who was jealous of the growing power of Poland,
revolted, and was making preparations for his coronation, when he suddenly died
in 1430.
Jagello established the
Polish law on a firmer foundation in the diets of 1422 and 1423, and gave an
additional sanction to the code of Wislica, which
Casimir had begun. To him the Poles are indebted for their famous law that no
individual is to be imprisoned until convicted.
This monarch was obliged to fight as well as preach and
legislate; he was in the early part of his reign continually occupied in
checking the encroachments of the Teutonic knights. He defeated them in a
great battle at Grunewala in 1410, and they were
happy to obtain peace in 1422. Having thus laid the foundation of Poland’s
greatness, he died in 1433.
His son, Wladislaw, was not much more than nine years old
when the crown of Poland was placed on his head. His mother and some of the
nobles were his guardians during his nonage. Scarcely had he escaped from his
pupilage, when he served his maiden campaign against the Turks. The descendants
of Osman, not content with their conquests in Asia, had crossed the Hellespont
to lay low the tottering eastern empire. They ravaged Transylvania and a great
portion of Hungary, and, the Hungarians opposing them in vain, conferred their
crown on Wladislaw, who immediately took the field. Murad headed the Moslem
army, and Wladislaw the Poles; an experienced warrior was thus pitted against a
boy. But the battle is not always to the strong; like a spent wave, as if
exhausted with victory, the Turks made but a feeble attack on that Polish army.
The Moslems were defeated with the loss of 30,000 men, and were obliged to sue
for peace. A treaty was concluded with mutual oaths, and Wladislaw was
presented with the Hungarian crown which he had so nobly defended.
But this success only urged him, like the gamester, to try
the chance of another cast. Treaties were nothing, oaths were nothing; the
pope’s legate, who accompanied the youthful king, produced his authority, and
silenced all scruples of conscience. But the Turkish swords, which before were
blunt with service, were now whetted with revenge, and for once the Moslem
crescent was the banner of justice. Murad regained his laurels on the plains of
Varna; the Poles were routed, and Wladislaw fell a victim to his own rashness
and perfidy. Thus perished this young Polish king, in his twenty-first year,
1444 a.d., an event which spared the lives of
many thousands of human beings.
THE DEFEAT OF THE TEUTONIC KNIGHTS
The reign of Casimir IV, who succeeded his brother, forms a brighter
era in Polish history. His predecessor’s fate seems to have given him a
distaste for the dangers of war, and the early part of his reign was passed in
rather disgraceful peace. His first undertaking was against those inveterate
and formidable enemies of his kingdom, the Teutonic knights, whom he defeated.
The Prussians, wearied with the oppression of these fanatical brigands,
rebelled against them, and placed themselves under the protection of Casimir in
1454. The knights did not surrender their conquests without a struggle, and the
war was prolonged twelve years. The Poles overran all the Prussian territory
which continued to side with the oppressors. So great was the devastation that
out of twenty-one thousand villages which are said to have existed before this
time in Prussia, scarcely more than thirteen thousand survived the flames, and
nearly two thousand churches were destroyed.
The knights were at length obliged to submit; and a treaty
was concluded, by which they surrendered all Polish Prussia and held the
remaining portion as a fief of Poland. Casimir formed this new addition of
territory into four palatinates, under the same government as the rest of his
kingdom, excepting certain commercial privileges granted to the trading towns. Dantzic, Thorn, Elbing, and Kulm
were important acquisitions, being of great mercantile consequence. Dantzic was one of the principal Hanse towns, commanding
the commerce of the Baltic, and Casimir conferred on it the exclusive privilege
of navigation on the Vistula. Moldavia, also, was now tributary to Poland, so
that this kingdom had then the means of uniting the commerce of northern Europe
with that of the south.
INTERNAL ADMINISTRATION
The system of internal policy was also undergoing several
changes. In the early part of this reign the senate confirmed the decree that
the king was not to make war without their permission. In the year 1467 the
foundation of the Polish diet, or parliament, was laid. Before that period the
senate consisted only of the bishops and great officers of the kingdom, who
formed the king’s council, subject also to the interference of the nobility.
Learning began to be cultivated by the Polish gentlemen in
this reign, and the Latin language was now generally introduced. It Is said
that, in a conference with the king of Sweden, Casimir, being addressed in
Latin, was obliged to employ a monk as interpreter; and, ashamed of his
ignorance, he enjoined the study of that language among the gentlemen of Poland
by an edict. It has continued ever since almost a living language in that
country.
The first printing-press was erected at Cracow in 1474. The
Polish language began to be cultivated and used by authors, and even written
elegantly. Schools were generally established, to which the sons of the citizens,
or even serfs, had the same access as the nobles. Kromer, the historian, called
the Livy of Poland, son of a peasant, and raised to the bishopric of Ermland (Warmia), and Janicki, of the same origin, noted
for his Latin poems, and crowned with the laurel wreath by Pope Clement VII
were among the numerous authors who lived in this reign. The name of Gregory
of Sanok, the Polish Bacon, must not pass unnoticed.
He held a professorship in the University of Cracow' some time, in which office
he introduced a spirit of liberal and independent inquiry, for which we could
scarcely give the age credit. He hated the scholastic dialect, says his
biographer, ridiculed astrology, and introduced a simple mode of reasoning. He
was also a great admirer and patron of elegant learning, and was the first who
introduced the works of Vergil into notice in Poland.
The diets, up to this period, had been general assemblies of
all the nobles, that is, of the army; but the inconvenience of holding meetings
of more than
Casimir, having thus spent nearly forty-eight years in the
service of his kingdom, extending its territory, conquering its enemies,
framing its constitution, and civilising it with
arts and learning, left it to the care of his third son, John Albert, 1492 a.d.
Good fortune and faction raised John Albert above his two
elder brothers, but courage and policy maintained him in his elevation. The
latter of these cardinal virtues in a king was not, however, always exhibited
in the present monarch’s counsels. He had admitted an Italian, Buono Accorso, formerly his
tutor, into his confidence, and showed much deference to his opinions.
According to his advice he attempted to lessen the preponderance of the
nobility in the political scale. The plan was prudent, and if it could have
been effected and their power withheld till the tiers-état was sufficiently strengthened with wealth and arts to counteract its undue
influence, Poland might, like England, have enjoyed a firmly balanced
constitution, in which the dissentient ranks are so well adjusted that disorder
and its remedy are always produced simultaneously.
Albert impoliticly gave publicity to a design in which
concealment was the principal requisite to insure success. Unfortunately, a
circumstance which happened shortly after the disclosure rendered the king
still more an object of suspicion to the nobles. The Polish troops were waylaid
by an ambuscade, during a campaign against the Wallachians, and a great number
of nobles, who almost entirely composed the army, were put to the sword. This
event, coupled with the king’s denouement, engendered a suspicion of treachery,
and made the nobles the more on the alert, not only to preserve their
privileges, but to intrench on those of the king and the people. The Lithuanian
nobles, in particular, were strenuous in their opposition to the king’s design;
their principles had always been more exclusive than those of the Poles, but
the danger which threatened their privileges united both in the common cause.
From this time we may date their despotism over the serfs, who, not having
allies in the commercial classes, were obliged to submit quietly.
The influence of the trading classes was checked by two
causes. In the first place, every gentleman who had a house and a few acres of
land could enjoy all the privileges of nobility; hence none but the lower
order, or foreigners, would engage in mercantile pursuits; and, secondly, the
towns were composed chiefly of German strangers, Jews, and even Armenians, who
had been long considered almost out of the pale of the law, and could not be admitted
to the rights of naturalisation. From this time,
therefore, we may date the origin of the exclusive influence of the nobles;
they became resolute in maintaining arbitrary authority over their serfs; the
commercial class were included in the proscription of rights, being interdicted
by the diet in 1496 from becoming proprietors of land or possessors of church
preferment.
But what Albert unintentionally pulled down from one part of
the constitution, he rebuilt in another; and to make amends for having thus
weakened the political power of the people, he fortified their juridical
rights. In his time the law courts were submitted to more fixed regulations,
and corruption and oppression of the people exposed and punished.
In the reign of his successor, Alexander, who came to the
throne in 1501, the crown was still more debased. The king was prohibited from
raising any money or using the revenue without the consent of the diet. This
law, called Statutum Alexandrinum,
is said to have been passed to check Alexander’s prodigality to musicians, to
whose art he was passionately attached. All the Polish laws were revised and
corrected at this period by the chancellor Laski, after whom the code is named.
THE REIGNS OF SIGISMUND I AND OF SIGISMUND AUGUSTUS
When Sigismund I came to the throne, in 1507, he found that
it was not a bed of roses. Faction rose up against him as a many-headed
monster, and it required a powerful and long arm to decapitate the ever-growing
heads and perseverance with resolution to sear the wounds. But the Polish
monarch was not to be soon intimidated; he defeated the Lithuanians, who had revolted,
and routed the Russian auxiliaries of the rebels. The latter success was in a
great measure owing to the artillery, which was now introduced into the Polish
army, or rather among their Bohemian allies and fellow subjects.
Albert, marquis of Brandenburg and nephew of Sigismund, had
been elected master of the Teutonic order, in the hope that his connection with
the Polish kings might be the means of advancing their interest. No sooner was
he invested with this authority than he renounced all allegiance to Poland, and
refused to submit to his liege lord Sigismund. He was, however, soon brought to
obedience, and obliged to resign his authority as master. This resignation was
the knell of the Teutonic knights; they were now deprived of all standing
ground in Prussia, and were obliged to retire to Marienthal,
in Franconia. The Poles were thus delivered from one enemy, but little did they
imagine that the successors, whom they appointed to the vacated authority,
would eventually be their destroyers. Sigismund formed eastern Prussia into a
duchy in 1525, and intrusted it to Albert as a fief.
Polish or western Prussia was hence called Regal Prussia, to distinguish it
from the duchy.
But when the king had quelled all foreign troubles, he found
others at home of a more insidious and less tractable nature. His wife, Bona,
was the prime mover of these intrigues; she had obtained a complete ascendency
over the mind of her husband, who was now no more than a puppet which played
her own game. The nobility, being summoned by the king to assemble at Leopol or Lemberg in Galicia, obeyed his orders, but it was
to make universal complaints against the queen and the administration. This confederation
they styled Rokosz, in imitation of the Hungarians,
who in cases of public emergency held their assemblies in the plain of Rokosz, near the city Pesth. The
confederation was not formed of very stubborn materials, for they were all
dispersed, we are told, by a shower of rain. This assembly and protest, however
trifling in themselves, were of much importance as establishing a precedent
which was but too often and obstinately imitated in following times.
No sooner had Sigismund Augustus, the son of the preceding
monarch, ascended the throne, than factions were formed against him, because he
had married without the consent and concurrence of the diet. The object of his
choice was Barba Radziwill, widow of a Lithuanian
noble of no great consequence. This marriage had been contracted secretly
before his father’s death, but he publicly acknowledged it on coming to the crown.
Firm in his affection, and faithful to his vows, he would not break his
domestic tics, although his constancy might cost him a kingdom. The contest did
not, however, come to this crisis, for the king dexterously turned the
attention of the nobles to their own interests, and heard no more objections to
his marriage. But Sigismund did not long enjoy the domestic happiness which he
so well deserved, for in the course of six months death made him a widower.
Sigismund was not entirely freed from war, but he found time
to cultivate the arts of peace very successfully. In this reign Livonia and
Courland were annexed to the Polish crown. The order of the knights of Christ,
having the same statutes as the Templars, was founded in 1202 by the bishop of
Riga, who conferred on them the right to a third part of Livonia, which they
were to conquer and convert to Christianity, and this grant was also confirmed
by the pope. The first grand master was Winno, who
denominated the order Ensiferi. In 123S they formed a
solemn compact with the Teutonic knights and adopted their statutes. They
reduced Livonia and Courland, and in 1521 purchased their independence of the
grand master of the Teutonic order. The Reformation began now to spread in
Livonia, and greatly weakened the power of the knights. At this time they had
imprisoned the bishop of Riga, Sigismund’s cousin, and massacred the envoys whom
he sent to demand the release of his kinsman.
Sigismund was arming to wreak vengeance on them, when,
dreading the encounter, they submitted, and formed an alliance with Poland. The
czar of Moscow, provoked at this step, invaded Livonia, and the knights, not
able to defend themselves, sued for assistance from Sigismund, who repelled the
Russians. Livonia was surrendered to Poland in 1561; and Kettler, the grand
master, was invested with the duchy of Courland as a fief. He was bound to
furnish the king as his vassal with two hundred horse or five hundred infantry,
and was not allowed to maintain more than five hundred regular troops.
The war in which Sigismund was engaged with the Russians led
to a consolidation of the union between Poland and Lithuania. At the commencement
of hostilities the czar was victorious, and even invaded Lithuania. The Polish
nobles refused to march to the assistance of their fellow subjects but under
the condition that the union should be consummated. This was readily granted,
and in 1569 the desired arrangement was definitely concluded in a diet of both
provinces at Lublin. Lithuania was united to Poland under the same laws,
privileges, and government. It was agreed that the diets composed of
representatives of both these countries should meet at Warsaw, which is a
central town, and neither in Poland proper nor Lithuania, but in Masovia.
THE ADVANCED CIVILISATION OF POLAND UNDER THE JAGELLOS
The genius of Copernicus, the great precursor of Newton, had
lately shone forth,
— velut inter ignes Luna minores.
He was born in 1473 at Thorn, where his father, a citizen of
Cracow, had settled after the accession of Polish Prussia to Poland. At the age
of nineteen he was sent to the University of Cracow, where he pursued his
mathematical studies under the noted Brudzewski. Adam Zaluzianski is the Polish Linnaeus, and in this same
age published a work entitled Methodus Herbaria, in
which he exhibits his sexual arrangement of plants. There were perhaps more
printing presses at this time in Poland than there have ever been since, or
than there were in any other country of Europe at the time. There were
eighty-three towns where they printed books, and in Cracow alone there were
fifty presses. The chief circumstance which supported so many printing houses
in Poland at this time was the liberty of the press, which allowed the
publication of writings of all the contending sects which were not permitted to
be printed elsewhere.
Nor were the Poles less advanced in that most enlightened
feeling of civilisation, religious toleration. When
almost all the rest of Europe was deluged with the blood of contending
sectaries; while the Lutherans were perishing in Germany, while the blood of
above a hundred thousand Protestants, the victims of the war of persecution and
the horrid massacre of St. Bartholomew, was crying from the ground of France
against the infamous Triumvirate and the hypocritical Catherine de’ Medici;
while Mary made England a fiery ordeal of persecution, and even the heart of
the Virgin Queen was not entirely cleansed of the foul stuff of bigotry, but
dictated the burnings of the Arians, Poland opened an asylum for the persecuted
of all religions, and allowed every man to worship God in his own way. “Mosques,”
says Rulhiere, “were raised among churches and
synagogues. Leopol has always been the seat of three
bishops, Greek, Armenian, and Latin, and it was never inquired in which of
their three cathedrals any man, who consented to submit to the regulations of
government, went to receive the communion. Lastly, when the Reformation was
rending so many states into inimical factions, Poland, without proscribing her
ancient religion, received into her bosom the two new sects.” All parties were
allowed a perfect liberty of the press; the Catholics printed their books at
Cracow, Posen, Lublin, etc., while the followers of the Confession of Augsburg
published theirs at Paniowica, Dabrowa, and Szamotuly; the reformers, at Pinczow, Brzesc, Knyszyn, Nieswiez; the Arians, at Rakow and Zaslaw, and the Greek sectarians in Lithuania, at Ostrowo and Vilna.
In 1540 it was ascertained that there were not in the whole
of Poland more than five hundred Christian merchants and manufacturers, while
there were three thousand two hundred Jewish, who employed nine thousand six
hundred artisans in working gold, silver, etc.., or manufacturing cloths. In
the reign of Sigismund Augustus the Jews were prohibited from dealing in horses
or keeping inns. Such was the state, of his kingdom, when Sigismund died in 1572.
With this monarch ended the line of kings of the house of Jagello.
Having thus arrived at another era in our historical
narrative, let us cast a brief view on the tract we have travelled over. Under
the dynasty of the Jagellos, which lasted 186 years,
Poland had attained its perfect growth and dimensions, and its constitution had
also arrived at equal maturity. Jewel after jewel has since been stolen from
the crown, till it has become but a simple badge of official distinction. There
being no third order whom the kings could raise up against the nobles, which
would have rendered the monarchy limited, but shielded it from total
subjection to the aristocracy, there was no alternative but to make the
government a perfect despotism as in Russia, to preserve the regal authority.
This was attempted, as we shall see, in after years, but the kings who
undertook it had not sufficient genius or perseverance, and the aristocracy had
attained too great an ascendency by the diet and confederation. Besides, the
chief military forces of the kingdom were not composed of a distinct order, who
might be won over to the regal side, but of the nobility and their retinues;
nor had the king that powerful engine, wealth, in his power, all the revenue
being at the disposal of the diet, which was composed of the aristocracy. Under
these circumstances the king could only be “a judge,” as one of the future
monarchs expressed himself, and the state that anomaly, a republic of
aristocrats.
THE CROWN A PRIZE OF COMPETITION
Sigismund’s funeral bell was the tocsin of anarchy in Poland.
Being without a male heir, this last of the Jagellos restored the crown to his subjects for their disposal, a trust which occasioned
them much perplexity. The nobles, among whom had sprung up that spirit of
equality and jealousy which had so intrenched on the regal authority, would not
bend to a rival of their own order; and with the same feeling which has made
them in late years rather submit to the domineering and treacherous interference
of foreign powers than bear any stretch or even appearance of power in their
peers, they preferred to look abroad for a king. The Polish crown thus became a
prize of competition for foreign princes, and it still possessed sufficient
temptations to have many candidates; for besides the opportunity that a
monarch, backed with extraneous forces, might have of extending the authority,
there remained still many important privileges like interstices between the
enclosures of the laws. The neighbouring potentates
now began a struggle for Poland, and at length the unhappy country became the
prey of their conflicting interests in addition to the evils of civil
dissension.
During the interregnum which succeeded the death of
Sigismund, the archbishop of Gnesen, on whom the authority devolved at such
times, convoked the diet to debate on the choice of a new king. In this
meeting, which was held in 1573, the laws were passed which regulated the
elections. The motion made by John Zamoyski,
representative of Belz, in Galicia, that all the
nobles should have a voice in the nomination, was carried, and it was agreed
that they should meet in a plain near Warsaw. In this diet also the coronation
oath, or pacta conventa, was revised. The
principal articles were the same as have been ever since administered to the
kings-elect, stripping the monarch of all active power, making the crown
elective, and requiring regular convocations of the diet every two years. They
bound him also to observe perfect toleration of religious principles, promising
among themselves (inter nos dissidentes de religione), as well for themselves as their
posterity, never to take up arms on account of diversity in religious tenets.
The Roman Catholic, however, remained the state religion, and the kings were
bound to be of that profession of faith.
The nobles accordingly assembled at Warsaw, armed, and with
all their pomp of retinue. Several candidates were nominated, among whom were
Ernest, son of the emperor Maximilian of Austria, and Henry, duke of Anjou, son
of Catherine de’ Medici, and brother of Charles IX, the reigning king of
France. The latter was the successful competitor, and an embassy was sent to
Paris to announce the decision. We cannot refrain from inserting, at full
length, the description given of this Polish deputation by an eyewitness then
living at Paris:
“It is impossible to express the general astonishment when we
saw these ambassadors in long robes, fur caps, sabres,
arrows, and quivers; but our admiration was excessive when we saw the
sumptuousness of their equipages, the scabbards of their swords adorned with
jewels, their bridles, saddles, and horse-cloths decked in the same way, and
the air of consequence and dignity by which they were distinguished. One of the
most remarkable circumstances was their facility in expressing themselves in
Latin, French, German, and Italian. These four languages were as familiar to
them as their vernacular tongue. There were only two men of rank at court who
could answer them in Latin, the baron of Millau and the marquis of Castelnau-Mauvissiere. They had been commissioned expressly
to support the honour of the French nation, that had
reason to blush at their ignorance in this point. They (the ambassadors) spoke
our language with so much purity that one would have taken them rather for men
educated on the banks of the Seine and the Loire than for inhabitants of the
countries which are watered by the Vistula or the Dnieper, which put our
courtiers to the blush, who knew nothing, but were open enemies of all
science; so that when their guests questioned them, they answered only with
signs or blushes.”
Thus was Henry called to the throne, and he who was engaged
at the very moment of his election in fighting against the Protestants now took
the oath of toleration to all dissenters and sectaries. He accepted the crown
reluctantly; for, although all was ready for the king’s departure to Poland,
this prince did not hurry to set out. However honourable the object of his voyage, he regarded it as an exile. But no sooner had he
reached Poland than he was informed of the death of his brother and the vacancy
of the French throne. Not choosing to forfeit his hereditary right and the
substantial authority of the crown of France, and knowing that the Poles would not
allow him to swerve from his oath, which bound him to reside in Poland, he took
the singular resolution to abscond and leave the country by stealth. He was
overtaken a few leagues from Cracow by one of the Polish nobles, but
resolutely refused to return.
This singular and unexpected event renewed the factions, some
of which called Maximilian of Austria to the throne, but were at last obliged
to yield to the opposite party, who chose Anne, the sister of Sigismund, and
Stephen Báthori, duke of Transylvania, for her
husband, 1575 a.d
THE REIGN OF BATHORI (1575-1586 A.D.)
This prince was possessed of rare qualities and high talent,
having raised himself by his valour, and without the
least violence or collusion, to the dukedom of Transylvania; and he was now
called spontaneously to the Polish throne. Nor did he degenerate after his
exaltation, vanquishing the Russians in a series of battles. Peace was at
length concluded by the interposition of Possevin,
the Jesuit, and legate from the pope.
This was the circumstance which gave the Jesuits an
introduction into Poland. Their order was then noted only for its learning, and Bathori, imagining he was acting for the improvement
of his people, intrusted to them the care of the
University of Vilna, which he had just founded. Succeeding years, however,
showed them in a very different character in Poland from teachers and
peacemakers.
But the most politic act of this king was the addition to the
strength of the nation effected by establishing a standing army and introducing
an improved discipline. He now also
brought the Cossacks under some military order. It was that Cossack tribe
called Zaporog (Cosaci Zaporohenses) that was thus rendered serviceable to Poland.
They inhabited, or rather frequented, the islands and swamps of the Dnieper,
which formed a barrier against their warlike neighbours.
In the reign of Sigismund I they were first armed against the Tatars, and a
Polish officer, Daszkiewicz, was appointed their
governor, but no further notice was taken of them till the time of Báthori.
The absurd and monstrous descriptions of this people and
their manners, which were founded on rumour, have
been fully credited by modern writers; and Voltaire, who is one of the greatest
among fabulists, does not fail to magnify the wonders. We shall endeavour to throw a little clearer light on the manners of
this tribe, from two old authors of credit. The Cossacks were the southern
borderers of Poland, and, like all other people similarly situated, were
continually carrying on an irregular and predatory war; hence their name, which
implies plunderers. The Ukraine also means frontier country, and in course of
time all its inhabitants were designated Cossacks. “They were,” says Chevalier,
“only a military body, and not a nation, as some have imagined. We cannot
compare them better than to the ‘Francarchers’
formerly established in France by Charles VII.” They made periodical naval
expeditions every season against the Turks, and have even advanced within two
leagues of Constantinople. Their rendezvous was in the islands of the Dnieper,
and when winter approached they returned to their homes. They generally
mustered five thousand or six thousand men; their boats were sixty feet long,
with ten or twelve oars on each side, but this must be understood only of
their war-boats.
The other author whom we shall quote was one who lived at
that period, and frequently had the command of the Cossack troops, no less than
the father of the famous Sobieski. Even then, it seems, they were the subject
of curiosity and fable. “I will describe,” says he, “their origin, manners, and
customs, which I am acquainted with by hearsay, and have myself witnessed.
They are chiefly of Russian origin, though many criminal refugees from Poland,
Germany, etc., are to be found among them. They profess the religion of the
Greek church. They have fixed their residence in those naturally fortified
places which are watered by the Dniester. Their business is war, and when they
are shut up as it were in their nest, they consider it illegal to neglect
athletic sports for any other pursuits. They live sparingly, by hunting and
fishing. They support their wives and families with plunder. They are governed
by a project (hetman), whose sceptre is a reed, and
who is chosen by acclamation in a tumultuous manner. He has absolute power of
life and death. He has four counsellors. The Poles have given them the town Trychtymirow, in Kiev.
“Long habit has fitted them for maritime warfare. They use
boats on the sides of which they can occasionally fasten flat bundles of reeds,
to buoy them up, and resist the violence of the waves and winds. With these
boats they sail with great rapidity, and very often take the laden Turkish
vessels. Not many of them use lances, but they are all furnished with
arquebuses, and in this kind of warfare the kings of Poland can match the
infantry of all the monarchs in the world. They fortify their camps with wagons
ranged in several rows; this they call Tabor, and make them their last refuge
from an overbearing enemy. The Poles were obliged to furnish them with arms, provisions,
and forage for their horses.” Such were the men whom Bathory enlisted in the
Polish service. In the year 1576 he divided them into six regiments, and
appointed superior and subordinate officers over them. “They were then only
infantry,” says Chevalier, “but Báthory joined to them two thousand horse, and
in a short time they consisted chiefly of cavalry.” Their chief was called
hetman, or ataman, and the king presented him with the following articles as
ensigns of authority: a flag, a horse-tail, a staff, and a mirror. Rozinski was their first hetman appointed by Báthory.
It is said that the king had formed a design of extending the
regal authority, but death frustrated it, in 15S6. Few monarchs are more
respected by the Poles than the one whom we have just described; and, compared
with many of the Polish sovereigns, he certainly deserved the title conferred
on him, “In republica plus quàm rex.”
sigismund’s wars with turkey, Russia, and
Sweden
Violent factions, in consequence of this event, were formed
at the diet of election, and both Maximilian of Austria and Sigismund, prince
of Sweden, were next elected to the throne. Sigismund’s party prevailed, and
took Maximilian prisoner, 1587 a.d. The successful competitor did not make an ungenerous
use of his advantage, but liberated him, and rejected the offered ransom,
saying: “I will not add insult to misfortune. I shall give Maximilian his
liberty, and not oblige him to buy it.”
Sigismund’s family was related to the Jagellos on the female side, which reconciled the Poles to his accession. His reign
commenced with war, for the Turks, continually harassed by the Cossacks, and
not being able to revenge themselves on that vagrant people any more than if
they were an annoying swami of locusts, called the Poles to account for the
actions of their dependents. After considerable slaughter, which was interesting
only to the victors and the victims, and of no service but to rid the Ukraine
of a few thousand cutthroat robbers, peace was effected by the intervention of
an English ambassador.
Sigismund’s father dying about this time, the Swedish crown
was bequeathed to the Polish king; but the Swedes, who had adopted the
reformed religion of Luther ever
since the time of Gustavus, were apprehensive of the government of a Roman
Catholic, as Sigismund was, and as he was obliged to declare himself before he
could ascend the Polish throne. Nor were their fears groundless, for his very
first acts were a bad omen for the Protestant religion He was accompanied by a
popish legate, by whose advice he demanded that there should be a Roman
Catholic chapel in every town, and expressed his determination to be crowned by
the pope’s deputy. This was borne with impatience; but when the king attempted
to enforce his will with Polish troops, the murmur of discontent was raised to
the shout of rebellion, and all the attempts of the king to trample down the
Swedes to obedience were of no avail.
Sigismund turned his attention at this time to Russia, where
was being enacted the farcical romance of the false Dmitri. Incited by an
ambition to conquer Russia, and encouraged therein by the Jesuits, he invaded
the country, ostensibly as the avenger of his murdered subjects.
Zolkiewski, the
maternal grandfather of Sobieski, who, as his son-in-law writes, was made both
chancellor and grand general, commanded the troops, and entering Moscow took
prisoner Vasili Shulsky,
the new czar, and his brother. The king’s son, Wladislaw, was set on the
throne, and thus Poland was once the disposer of the Russian crown. He was,
however, soon deposed, and Sigismund did not attempt to reinstate him. Zolkiewski had the honour of
entering Warsaw with a Russian czar in his train.
Sigismund had not abandoned his plan of regaining the crown
of Sweden, and with this view he joined, with Ferdinand, the emperor of
Germany, and assisted him against the voyevode of Transylvania,
who opposed him. The Transylvanian was in alliance with the sultan, and urged
him to make a diversion on the side of Moldavia, which at that time was under
the power of the Turks. The palatine of Moldavia had invited the Poles to his
assistance, and accordingly the famous Zolkiewski,
the conqueror of Russia, marched into that country with eight thousand regular
troops, and irregular forces of Cossacks and Moldavian refugees amounting to
about twenty thousand. The Turkish army was chiefly composed of Tatars, and
numbered nearly seventy thousand. Zolkiewski,
notwithstanding the disparity of forces, obliged the Tatars to give way; but
being almost abandoned by his auxiliaries, and his little band being reduced to
little better than five thousand, he was obliged to retreat.
Like all experienced generals, Zolkiewski could play the losing as well as the winning game, and an eight days’ march in
the face of a numerous army, used to irregular warfare, must have required some
tactics and management. Historians compare this retrograde movement to “ the
retreat of the ten thousand,” and no doubt the Polish grand general, if he had
boasted a Greek tongue and a Greek sword, would have made as wonderful a
narrative as Xenophon. But Zolkiewski was to suffer a
different fate, for when the troops had reached the Dniester they were
panic-struck at the sight of the enemy, and fled in disorder. “Zolkiewski,” says the Polish historian James Sobieski,
“like Paulus Aemilius, disdained to survive his
defeat, and, with the same valour which had marked
his life, he fell fighting for his country, and covered with wounds, on the
banks of the Dniester, near the town of Mohilev.” His
son was taken prisoner, but both bodies were redeemed and buried in the same
grave, with this inscription:
Ezoriare aliquis nostris ex ossibus ultor.
This voice from the tomb urged their descendant Sobieski to
exact retribution from the Turks. This was only the signal for fresh war; the
sultan now headed his troops in person, but was eventually obliged to make
peace.
While the Poles were thus engaged in the south, the Swedes
were making inroads in the north. Sigismund had not quietly given up the crown
of Sweden, but although his exertions were fruitless, he still cherished the
hope of recovering it. The Polish king found an opponent in Gustavus Adolphus,
who was now on the throne, and who withstood not merely the Poles, but almost
all continental Europe, at least the Catholic part. Livonia, the point of
junction between the two kingdoms, was the seat of war. After some trifling
struggles, Gustavus took the field in 1626, and laid siege to Riga. This town
surrendered in six weeks, and the Swedish king drove out the Jesuits, who were
its perpetual tormentors. But Sigismund was too stubborn to be taught the
inutility of resisting the great Gustavus; he would not see in him anything but
a young hot-headed competitor, and not the determined champion of the Thirty
Years’ War. Battle lost after battle increased the demands of the Swedes, and
lessened the power of the Poles. The Polish king was also the dupe of the
courts of Vienna and Madrid, whose interest it was to make him divert Gustavus
from the rest of Europe, and in consequence they promised to assist him with
money and troops. These promises were never kept, and Sigismund continued
obstinately to gnaw the file. The city of Dantzic,
however, defended itself very vigorously; the Swedish admiral was killed, and
Gustavus obliged to raise the siege. But the continued run of ill-fortune at
length opened the eyes of the Poles to their own folly and the treachery of
their pretended allies, and Sigismund was happy to make peace for six years, by
which he resigned Livonia and part of Prussia, in 1629.
Sigismund terminated this reign of trouble in 1632. Ever the
dupe of the Jesuits, who were in his perfect confidence, he lost one kingdom
and weakened another which was so unfortunate as to continue under his power.
Poland, the land of toleration, was now the scene of religious contest, and
the Protestants were deprived of all places of trust and power. General dissatisfaction
resulted, and the nobles had formed a confederation against their king in 1607,
but not being very resolute, they failed in carrying their point. In 1609 these
confederations were authorised by law. The spirit of
contention, however, still continued to divide house against house, and the
father against his son; intolerance added to the serf’s chains and put an
embargo on commerce. Such were the effects for which Poland was indebted to Sigismund
III. He not only committed actual injury, but sowed fresh seeds by intrusting great power to the Jesuits. “He had, in short,”
says a French writer, “two faults, which generally occasion great misfortune:
he was very silly and very obstinate.”
A PERIOD OF DECLINE
Some time after the
accession of Wladislaw VII, son of Sigismund, to the throne, died Gustavus
Adolphus, which event enabled the Poles to oblige the Swedes to resign their
conquests and make a firmer peace in 1635 at Stumsdorf.
Had all the acts of the new king been dictated by the same good policy, Poland
would have been saved much loss of strength and influence.
The Polish nobles were jealous of the independence of the
Cossacks, so different from the state of their own serfs; the Jesuits could not
bear to tolerate them in their adherence to the doctrines of the Greek church,
and longed to make them Catholics; the king perhaps was swayed by both reasons,
so that the sovereign, nobles, and Jesuits all united to prune the almost
lawless freedom of that wild but useful tribe, and from this time may be dated
their alienation from the Polish interest. Wladislaw ordered forts to be
erected in the Ukraine to awe them, and the Cossacks armed in defence of their right, but were defeated. In defiance of
treaties, the Poles villainously butchered their hetman and many other
prisoners. A compact made after this, binding the victors to withdraw their
troops and restore the Cossacks to their full liberty, was as soon broken; the
diet ordered the number of forces in the Ukraine to be increased, and that they
should be reduced to the same state of subjection as the serfs. The Polish
nobles seemed to imagine that oaths and engagements were not binding with uncivilised people, for they committed all kinds of outrages
on them, both personal and general; at length an act of intolerable injustice
drove the Cossacks again to rebel, and they were obtaining many advantages when
death carried off their tyrant, Wladislaw, in 1648.
But the former bigot was succeeded by another: John Casimir,
younger brother of the late king, was called to occupy the throne just vacated.
Casimir was a Jesuit by principle, education, and character, and the pope gave
him a cardinal’s hat, to free him from his religious ties that he might assume
the crown.
Under this king the Cossacks were as badly treated as under
his predecessor. The Polish nobles continued to oppress them, and Casimir
connived at the injustice; at length, however, a notorious act of villainy
roused them to revolt. Chmielnicki, a man of some influence in the Ukraine, was
deprived of a small tract of land by the Polish governor, and resenting the
oppression, asserted his right and taunted that officer as a tyrannical
upstart. The governor, incensed at his resistance, imitated the violence of the
other Polish nobles, carried off Chimielncki’s wife,
and set fire to his house, in which his infant child perished. Chmielnicki drew
his sword to revenge his wife’s honour and his
child’s death, and joined the rebel Cossacks, who made him their leader. It was
about this time that Casimir came to the throne, and feeling that the Cossacks
were the aggrieved party, he refused to prosecute the war, but endeavoured to conciliate them by writing to the hetman and
confirming him in his office. The Cossack chief withdrew his forces, and
negotiations were in progress; but the nobles, confederating at the instigation
of the aristocrats, put an end to these pacific measures with the sword. The
Cossacks taught the Poles that they could defend their own liberty as well as
that of their former allies and present oppressors. The rebel forces left
behind them a wake of blood and devastation. They advanced into Poland, and
even invested the king in his camp at Zboro. The Cossacks
were credulous, and, believing a people who had deceived them so often,
consented to negotiate. It was then agreed, in 1649, that they should have the
free use of their privileges and religion.
This treaty did not satisfy the nobles, who were both foiled
in their undertaking and humiliated by their defeat; they therefore determined
to pay no more attention to it than the preceding agreements. Before the end of
the year the diet announced its intention of reducing the Cossacks to
obedience. Casimir made the expedition quite a crusade, and received a sacred
helmet and sword from Pope Innocent X. His preparations were on as great a
scale as if he designed the subjugation of a powerful nation, instead of a few
thousand rebels, as they denominated the Cossacks; besides an army of 100,000
nobles, he assembled a body of 50,000 of the foreign troops who had fought in
the Thirty Years’ War. The hetman, not terrified at this gigantic armament,
allied himself with the Khan of the Tatars, and encountered the Poles.
Victory declared in favour of the
oppressors, and the Cossacks were dispersed; but the hetman had yet sufficient
resources to obtain a peace in 1651. Submission to despotism is a distasteful
lot, and happily cannot under any circumstances be made a duty by the strictest
treaties or vows, according to the well-known principle of moral philosophy,
that improper promises are not binding; so thought the Cossacks without the aid
of a system of ethics, and submitted to the Russians in 1654. Alexis was then
czar; he gladly received his new subjects, and, assigning as a pretext for war
an omission which the Poles had made in one of his titles, marched two armies
into Poland, one towards Smolensk, and the other towards Kiev.
While the Russians were ravaging the east, another and no less
formidable enemy was arming on the north. Casimir, who sunk beneath the burden
of one crown, would not resign the family pretensions to another, that of
Sweden; and when Christina, abdicating about this time, appointed her cousin,
Charles Gustavus, her heir, he protested vehemently against the succession.
Charles Gustavus armed in defence of his right; and
perceiving that in one of the letters from Casimir only two et cameras were
used after his titles, instead of three, made it a pretext for declaring war.
Charles Gustavus marched into Poland with 60,000 troops; discontent and revolt
increased their number with Poles, and the Swede entered Warsaw. The
contemptible John Casimir fled to Silesia, and Charles Gustavus was master of
Poland.
But the nobles were soon disgusted with their new tyrant, and
in 1656 they confederated in Galicia, and Casimir joined the confederacy.
Fortune smiled still more favourably: Alexis, jealous
of the growing power of Sweden, withdrew his troops, and even the hetman, who
had received an envoy from Casimir, was satiated with revenge, and retired to
the Ukraine. Charles was obliged to retrace his steps, and Casimir reached
Warsaw again.
The Treaty of Oliva (1660 a.d.)
It is pretended that Charles Gustavus now proposed a
partition of Poland between Prussia and Austria, but, fortunately for the
kingdom, the czar declared war against Sweden, and diverted the conqueror from
his design. The elector of Brandenburg concluded a treaty of peace at Wehlau, on the 19th of September, 1657, satisfied with
obtaining the independence of Ducal Prussia. Austria offered assistance, now
the danger was over, and the Treaty of Oliva was concluded on the 3rd of May,
1660, between Poland, Prussia, and Sweden. Casimir resigned all pretensions to
the Swedish crown, and ceded Livonia to Sweden. It must not be forgotten that
the et cameras of the king of Sweden’s title were arranged to his satisfaction
in one of the articles of this treaty.
Thus was Casimir freed from this terrible coalition, which
had threatened to forestall the fate of his unfortunate kingdom. But even
before the Treaty of Oliva was concluded, the Poles, instead of conciliating
all parties, passed a decree in the diet against the Arians, most of whom had
sided with Sweden, and persecuted them with confiscation, exile, and death.
Another rupture also broke out with the Cossacks; the haughty nobles infringed
on the treaty they had made with them in 1658, and the Ukraine again submitted
to Russia. “Since then,” says Salvandy, “Warsaw has
seen them keeping guard at the gates of her palace.”
The Poles kept the Russians at bay, and the famous John
Sobieski distinguished himself in these campaigns, but they were obliged to
make peace in 1667. By the treaty, Severia and the
Ukraine on the east of the Dnieper were ceded to Russia; the Cossacks (Zaporogians) were to be under the joint dominion of both
states, ready to serve against the Turks when required, and were to have the
free exercise of their religion.
This reign was as unfortunate in its internal policy as in
its foreign relations; the king was entirely at the mercy of his queen, his
mistresses, and the Jesuits. Many of the nobles during the Swedish invasion had
urged the necessity of choosing a successor to the throne who might be able to
fight their cause, and many went so far as to wish the monarchy to become
hereditary. The emperor was proposed by many, but the queen, Louise Marie,
exerted herself to insure the succession to the French prince, Condé; and in
the diet of 1661 the king himself made the proposal. This unconstitutional
proceeding produced great murmurs among the nobles; the diet was dissolved,
and the seeds of serious revolt were thus sown which harassed Casimir during
the rest of his reign. In this diet Casimir pronounced these remarkable words,
which have been construed as a singular prophecy of the dismemberment of
Poland: “I hope I may be a false prophet, in stating that you have to fear the
dismemberment of the republic. The Russians (Moscus et Russi) will attempt to seize the grand duchy of
Lithuania as far as the rivers Bug and Narew, and almost to the Vistula. The
elector of Brandenburg will have a design on Greater Poland and the neighbouring palatinates, and will contend for the aggrandisement of both Prussias.
The house of Austria will turn its attention to Cracow and the adjacent
palatinates. Rulhière pretends that
Casimir had the mysterious treaty in his eye when he spoke these prophetic
words, but a more natural solution of the question is found in the letters
before mentioned, which show that the apprehensions Casimir expresses were not
confined to him.
Casimir, worn out by trouble, took the resolution of
resigning the sceptre which he could not wield and
resuming his religious habit. He had been told in the diet that the calamities
of Poland could not end but with his reign, and he addressed that diet in the
following words:
People of Poland : If is now two hundred and eighty years that you have been
governed by my family. The reign of my ancestors is past, and mine is going to
expire. Fatigued by the labours of war, the cares of
the cabinet, and the weight of age; oppressed with the burdens and solicitudes
of a reign of more than twenty-one years, I, your kin" and father, return
into your hands what the world esteems above all things, a crown; and choose
for my throne six feet of earth, where I shall sleep in peace with my fathers.
After his abdication he retired to France, where he was made
abbot of the monastery of St. Germain-des-Prés.
It was in this king’s reign that the liberum veto, or
privilege of the deputies to stop all proceedings in the diet, by a simple
dissent, first assumed the form of a legal custom. “The leaven of superstition
and bigotry,” says Rulhière “began to ferment and
blend itself with all the other vices of the constitution; they then became
closely united, and their junction defied all remedy. It was then that in the
bosom of the national assemblies sprung up this
singular anarchy which, under the pretext of making the constitution more firm,
has destroyed in Poland all sovereign power. The right of single opposition to
general decrees, although always admitted, was for a long time not acted upon.
There remained but one step to complete the destructive system, and that was
taken in 1652 under the reign of John Casimir. A Polish noble, named Sizinski, whom his contemporaries have denounced to the
indignation of posterity, having left the diet at the period allotted for its
resolutions, and by his voluntary absence preventing the possibility of any
unanimity, the diet considered that it had lost its power by the desertion of
this one deputy.” A precedent so absurd but so easily imitated could not fail
to have the most pernicious effects.
There can be only one opinion on this king’s reign; he deserves
any character rather than that of “The Polish Solomon,” nor can we agree with
the whole of the assertion that
He made no wars, and did not gain
New realms to lose them back again,
And (save debates in Warsaw’s diet)
He reigned in most unseemly quiet.
His reign, unfortunately for Poland, was anything but an
“unseemly quiet,” and has added another proof of the bad effects of engrafting
the sceptre on the crosier.
The introduction of the Jesuits by Báthory had a great effect
on the progress of learning in Poland. The curious, however, count up 711
Polish authors in the reign of Sigismund III. The Polish language became more
generally diffused in Lithuania, Galicia, Volhinia,
etc., where formerly the Russian was the prevalent dialect. The close
intercourse which commenced with France during the unfortunate administration
of John Casimir introduced many of the comforts of civilisation;
travelling was improved in Poland, inns were built on the high roads, and carriages
came into general use. But sadly did learning languish in this stormy reign.
The incursions of the Swedes, Cossacks, and Tatars swept away the libraries,
broke up all literary society, and commerce shared the same fate.
THE UNWILLING MICHAEL IS MADE KING (1668 A.D.)
A diet of convocation now assembled to elect a successor to
Casimir. Its first act was to render abdication henceforth illegal in Poland.
The candidates to the throne were three: the prince of Conde,
supported by the primate and the great barons; the prince of Neuburg, an ally, or rather a creature, of Louis XIV; and
Charles of Lorraine, a prince in the interests of Austria. The first of these
candidates, however illustrious his exploits, could not be acceptable to a
nation which detested alike the tyranny and arrogance of the French monarch,
and which remembered but too well the disasters inflicted on the republic by
one of that nation—Henry of Valois. Though the grand marshal of the crown,
Sobieski, left the fields on which he had hitherto reaped his laurels to swell
the partisans of Cond6, the cause was hopeless; vast bodies of armed nobles
flocked round the kolo, and insisted that the
Frenchman should be excluded. The contest, which now lay between the French and
Austrian interests, promised to be ruinous, and to end in blood; the adherents
of each were nearly equal in number, and perfectly so in obstinacy. One
morning, however, before the great dignitaries had arrived, and while the
electors were ranged round the plain, under the banners of their respective
palatinates, the cry of a Piast proceeded from that
of Russia, and an obscure prince, Michael Korybut,
was proclaimed by those immediately at hand. The cry spread with electric
rapidity; it was echoed by the electors of the other palatinates, who by this
unexpected nomination saw an escape from the greatest of all evils—civil war.
As the senators approached, they were surprised at the universal clashing of sabres, and the howls of approbation which accompanied the
name of Michael. They were compelled to join in the vast chorus, and “Michael!
Michael!” resounded with deafening acclamations. In less than two hours he was
proclaimed king of Poland.
Prince Michael Korybut Wisniowieki was the son of the ruthless Jeremy, so infamous
for his persecution of the dissidents. Infirm in body and weak in mind, without
influence, because without courage and riches, he saw that if he was now made
the scapegoat for the hostile factions, both would afterwards unite in his
pursuit. With tears in his eyes he begged to decline the proffered dignity; and
when his entreaties were received with howls of “Most serene king, you shall
reign! ” he mounted his horse and precipitately fled from the plain. He was
pursued, brought back, forced to accept the pacta conventa which had been prepared for the successful candidate, and to promise before the
assembled multitude, whose outrageous demonstrations of homage he well knew
were intended to insult his incapacity, that he would never seek to evade his
new duties. To relieve his extreme poverty, some of the wealthier barons
immediately filled his empty apartments with household furniture, and his still
emptier kitchen with cheer, to which he had never before been accustomed. In
these studied attentions there was more of contempt than of good nature. The
mockery was complete, when in the diploma of his elevation it was expressed
that he was the sun of the republic, the proudest boast of a mighty line of
princes, one who left the greatest of the Piasts, the Jagellos, or the Vasas far
behind him.
With the commencement of his reign Michael began to
experience mortification within and danger from without. Though the public
treasury was empty, though Poland had no army, even when the Cossacks and
Tatars were preparing to invade her, two consecutive diets were dissolved, and
their proceedings consequently nullified, by the veto. Then the quarrels of
the deputies—quarrels which were not unfrequently decided by the
sword—introduced a perfect contempt for the laws, as well as for all authority
other than that of brute force. The poor monarch strove in vain to reconcile
the hostile factions; his entreaties—he was too timid or too prudent to use
threats—were disregarded, even by such as the distribution of crown benefices
had at first allied with his interests. Without decision, without vigour, without money or troops, and consequently without
the means of commanding respect from any one of his subjects, he was the scorn
or jest of all. A resolution was soon taken to dethrone this phantom of
royalty. The turbulent primate Prasmowski was the
soul of the conspiracy, which was rendered still more formidable by the
accession of the queen Eleanor, an Austrian princess. In the view of obtaining
a divorce, and of procuring the elevation to the throne of one who had long
been her lover—the prince of Lorraine—she scrupled not to plot against her
husband and king. It was, in fact, but exchanging one lord for another, a
beloved for a despised one; and whether the plot failed or succeeded, she was
sure of a husband and a throne. Fortunately for Michael, there was another
conspiracy, the object of which was to transfer the queen and the sceptre to a French prince. Thus one faction neutralised the other; but in the end one of them would
doubtless have triumphed, notwithstanding the adhesion of the small nobles to
the reigning king—an adhesion, however, not the result of attachment to the
royal person, but solely of hostility to the great barons—had not the loud
notes of warlike preparation drowned for a moment the noisy contentions of the
rebels.
SOBIESKI AND THE TURKISH CAMPAIGN (1670-1673 A.D.)
During these melancholy transactions, the heroic Sobieski was
gathering new laurels on the plains of Podolia and Volhinia.
By several successes, though obtained with but a handful of troops, chiefly
raised at his own expense, he preserved the frontier provinces from the ravages
'Of the Cossacks, the allies now of Muscovy, now of the Porte, as best suited
their ideas of interest or of revenge. He was now opposed, however, to a new
and apparently resistless enemy—the Turks, whom the perfidious policy or
revenge of Louis XIV raised up against the republic. The advanced guard of that
enemy, consisting of Cossacks and Tatars, whom the Porte had ordered to pass
the Borysthenes, he utterly routed, retook the
important frontier fortresses, and by everywhere opposing a movable rampart to
the barbarians, he kept them in check, fixed the wavering fidelity of the Volhinians, who were ready to join the Muscovites, and
re-established his communications with Moldavia. Europe termed these
preliminary operations the miraculous campaign. But Muhamed IV now approached, accompanied by the veteran army which had reduced Candia,
and which under its general, Cuprugli, had triumphed
over the Venetians, the Hungarians, and the empire. About three hundred
thousand Ottomans crossed the Dniester and advanced into Podolia. In the
deplorable anarchy which reigned at the diet, no measures whatever had been
taken to oppose the enemy. Sobieski had but 6,000 men; and notwithstanding his
energetic remonstrances, he could obtain no reinforcements. He had the
mortification to see the fall of Kamenets, the
reduction of all Podolia, and the advance of the Turks into Red Russia, the
capital of which, Leopol, was soon invested by Muhamed in person. What man could do—what no man but
himself could have dared—he accomplished. He cut off an army of Tatars, leaving
15,000 dead on the field, and releasing 20,000 Polish captives, whom the robbers
were carrying away. But however splendid this success, it could not arrest the
arms of the Turks. As the panic-struck nobles removed as far as possible from
the seat of war, Michael hastened to make peace with the Porte; as the price of
which he ceded Kamenets and the Ukraine to the
victors, acknowledged the superiority of the Porte over the Cossacks, and
agreed to pay an annual tribute of 20,000 ducats.
Such was the humiliating state to which the republic was
reduced by its own dissensions. In vain did Sobieski exclaim against the
inglorious Peace of Buczacz; in no Polish breast
could he awaken the fire of patriotism. It is impossible not to suspect that
the money of France or of the Porte had corrupted the leaders of the various
factions; a nation renowned beyond all others for its valour would surely not have thus coolly beheld its glory sullied, its very existence
threatened, unless treachery had disarmed its natural defenders. At this time
no less than five armed confederations were opposed to each other—of the great
against the king; of the loyal in his defence; of the
army in defence of their chief, whom Michael and his
party had resolved to try, as implicated in the French party; of the
Lithuanians against the Poles; and, finally, of the servants against their
masters, of the peasants against their lords.
Though Sobieski despised Michael, he scorned to take revenge
on so poor a creature; his country still remained, though humbled and degraded,
and he swore to exalt her or to die. Through his efforts, and the mutual
exhaustion of the contending parties, something like tranquillity was restored, and in a diet held at Warsaw the renewal of the war was decreed.
As no tribute was sent, the grand vizier did not wait for the hostile
declaration: followed by his imperial master, he crossed the Danube. At the
head of near forty thousand men, Poles, Lithuanians, and German auxiliaries,
Sobieski opened a campaign destined to be forever memorable in the annals of
the world. His plan was to meet and annihilate Kaplan Pasha, who was advancing
through Moldavia; to return and fall on Hussein, another Turkish general, who
with eighty thousand men held the strong position of Kotin,
on the Moldavian side of the Dniester, opposite to Kamenets:
the destruction of these two leaders, he hoped, would lead to the fall of the
latter fortress, and enable him to contend with the sultan in person, should
the monarch persist in advancing.
The mutiny of his troops, however, especially of the
Lithuanians, who exclaimed that he was leading them to utter destruction, and
who refused to advance into an unknown country, compelled him to begin with
Hussein. With difficulty he prevailed on them to pass the Dniester, and to
march on Kotin; he found the Turkish general so
strongly fortified, that Paz, the Lithuanian hetman, refused at first to join
in the meditated assault; but he had done such wonders in preceding campaigns
with a handful of troops, that with 40,000 he thought nothing impossible. Paz,
his personal enemy, he persuaded to co-operate, and the bombardment commenced
while the grand assault was preparing. Fortunately for the Christian arms, the
night of the 10th of November, 1673, was one of unexampled severity; the snow
fell profusely, and the piercing blasts were still more fatal to the besieged,
most of them from warm Asiatic climes. On the morning of the 11th Sobieski led
the attack; ere long his lance gleamed on the heights, and the struggle was
renewed in the heart of the Turkish intrenchments. In vain did the janissaries endeavour to prolong it; they fell in heaps, while the less
courageous or more enfeebled portion of the enemy sought safety in flight. The
bridge, however, which connected the two banks of the river was in the
possession of the Christians, and thousands perished while endeavouring to swim over. The carnage was now terrific; 40,000 of the Moslems now lay on
the plain, or floated in the stream, and an immense booty fell to the victors.
Poland was saved; the fortress of Kotin capitulated.
Kaplan Pasha retreated beyond the Danube; Moldavia and Wallachia declared for
the republic, and would perhaps have been incorporated with it, had not the
grand hetman been recalled from his career of conquest by an important though
not an unexpected event.
This was no other than the death of Michael, who expired at
Lemberg (Leopol) the night before the great battle of Kotin, while on his way to join the army. His demise
was very agreeable to the Poles, who longed for a prince capable of restoring
their ancient glory. Let him not, however, be judged with undue severity; his
feebleness was no more than his misfortune, while his intentions were good.
Though without vigour of understanding, he was
accomplished, and even learned; he was acquainted with several languages, and
addicted to literary pursuits. Knowing his own incapacity to rule so fierce a
nation, compulsion alone made him ascend the throne; and if his reign was
disastrous, the reason has been sufficiently explained. On the whole, he should
be pitied rather than condemned.
MICHAEL IS SUCCEEDED BY JOHN (III) SOBIESKI (1674 A.D.)
Though, on the death of Michael, the number of candidates was
greater than it had been on any preceding occasion, from the state of parties
in the republic, no one could doubt that the chief struggle would be between
those of France and the empire. The dukes of Lorraine and Neuburg were again proposed : the former was zealously supported by a queen lover; the
latter by the money and promises of Louis. (The electors had long been
sufficiently alive to the value of their votes.) That a stormy election was
apprehended was evident from the care with which the szopa,
or wooden pavilion of the senators, was fortified. The appearance on the plains
was exceedingly picturesque: everywhere were seen small bands of horsemen
exercising their daring feats; some tilting; some running at the ring; others
riding with battle-axes brandished to the entrance of the szopa,
and with loud hurrahs inciting the senate to expedition; others were deciding
private quarrels, which always ended in blood; some were listening with fierce
impatience to the harangues of their leaders, and testifying by their howls or
hurrahs their condemnation or approval of the subject. At a distance appeared
the white tents of the nobles, which resembled an amphitheatre of snowy mountains, with the sparkling waters of the Vistula and the lofty
towers of Warsaw.
The appearance of the Lithuanians was hostile; perhaps they had some reason to suspect the nomination of Sobieski, with whom their hetman, Paz, had long been at variance; certainly they seemed resolved to support the Austrian to the last extremity. Sobieski, who in the mean time had arrived from Kotin, proposed the prince of Condé, another candidate; whether in the hope that such a proposition would succeed, or with the view of distracting the different parties and making way for his own elevation, is not very clear. He soon found, however, that the prince was no favourite on the kolo; and his personal friend, Jablonowski, palatine of Russia, commenced a harangue in support of his pretensions. The speaker, with great animation, and not without eloquence, showed that the republic could expect little benefit from any of the candidates proposed, and insisted that its choice ought to fall on a Piast; on one, above all, capable of repressing domestic anarchy, and of upholding the honour of its arms, which had been so lamentably sullied during the two preceding reigns. The cry of “ A Piast! a Piast!” and “God bless Poland!” speedily rose from the Russian palatinate, and was immediately echoed by thousands of voices. Seeing their minds thus favourably inclined, he proposed the conqueror of Slobodisza, of Podhaic, of Kalusz and Kotin; and the cry was met with “Sobieski forever!” All the palatinates of the crown joined in the acclamation; but the Lithuanians entered their protest against a Piast. Fortunately for the peace of the republic, the grand duchy was not, or did not long continue, unanimous; Prince Radziwill embraced the cause of the crown; Paz was at length persuaded to withdraw his unavailing opposition, and John III was proclaimed king of Poland. Before the new king would consent to be crowned, he undertook
an expedition to rescue Kamenets, Podolia, and the
Ukraine from the domination of the Moslems. To preserve these, and if possible
to add to them, Muhamed IV had taken the field with a
formidable army. Kotin was retaken, the Muscovites
who contended with the Porte for the possession of the provinces on the Borysthenes were expelled from the Ukraine, and several
Cossack fortresses carried; but here the sultan, thinking he had done enough
for glory, returned to Constantinople. John now entered on the scene, and with
great rapidity retook all the conquests that had been made, except Kotin, and reduced to obedience most of the Cossacks on the
left bank of the Borysthenes. But this scene was
doomed to be sufficiently diversified: the wicked desertion of Paz, who with
his Lithuanians was averse to a winter campaign, prevented the king from
completing the subjugation of the Ukraine, and even forced him to retreat
before a new army of Turks and Tatars: twenty thousand of the Tatars, however,
were signally defeated at Zloczow; and the little
fortress of Trembowla made a defence worthy the best ages of Roman bravery. The Lithuanian soldiers being compelled
by their countrymen to rejoin the king, that monarch again entered on the
career of victory. The Turks were defeated at Soczawa,
and were pursued with great loss to the ramparts of Kamenets.
With the exception of that fortress and of Podhaic,
which they had stormed, Poland was free from the invaders.
Sobieski, having thus nobly earned the crown of a kingdom
which he had so often saved, returned to Cracow, where his coronation was
performed with the accustomed pomp, but with far more than the accustomed joy.
At the diet assembled on this occasion, a standing army of 30,000, and an
extraordinary one of three times that number, were decreed; but nothing more
was done, and the republic remained defenceless as
before. Other salutary proposals submitted by the king, whose talents were as
conspicuous in government as in the field, had no better success. The fate of
the republic, however it might be delayed by monarchs so enlightened and
conquerors so great as he, was not to be averted.
From these harassing cares John was summoned by a new
invasion of the Turks and Tatars, amounting in number to almost 210,000, and
commanded by Ibraham Pasha of Damascus, whose surname
of Shaitan, or the devil, was significant enough of his talents and character.
The Polish king, with his handful of 10,000, was compelled to intrench himself
at Zurawno, where he was well defended by sixty-three
pieces of cannon. His fate was considered—perhaps even by himself—as decided;
all Poland, instead of flocking to his aid, hastened to the churches to pray
for his deliverance. For twenty days the cannonading continued its destructive
havoc, occasionally diversified by still more destructive sorties from the
camp. The advantage rested with the Poles, but they were so thinned by their
very successes that their situation became desperate. The Tatar khan, however,
who knew that the Muscovites were laying waste that part of the Ukraine subject
to Doroszensko, the feudatory of the Porte, and were
menacing his own territories, clamoured for peace. It
was proposed by the pasha, but on the same humiliating terms as those of Buczacz. The enraged Sobieski threatened to hang the
messenger who should in future bring him so insulting a proposal.
Hostilities recommenced; though the Poles were without
provisions or ammunition, he scorned to capitulate. He rode among his dismayed
ranks, reminded them that he had extricated them from situations even worse
than the present one, and gaily asked whether his head was likely to have
suffered by the weight of a crown. When the Lithuanians threatened to desert,
he only replied, “Desert who will—alive or dead I remain!” But to remain in
his camp was no longer safe: one morning he issued from it, and drew up his handful
of men, now scarcely seven thousand, in battle array as tranquilly as if he had
legions to marshal. Utterly confounded at this display of rashness or of
confidence, the Turks cried out, “There is magic in it!”—a cry in which
Shaitan, devil as he was, joined. Filled with admiration at a bravery which
exceeded his imagination, the pasha sued for peace on less dishonourable conditions. By the treaty two-thirds of the Ukraine was restored to Poland,
the remaining third being in the power of the Porte; the question as to Podolia
was to be discussed at Constantinople; all prisoners, hostages, etc., were also
restored. The conditions, indeed, were below the dignity of the republic, but
that such favourable ones could be procured at such a
crisis is the best comment on the valour of the king.
This was the sentiment of all Europe, which resounded more than ever with his
praises.
This peace was followed by the prolongation of the truce with
Muscovy. Neither were the conditions of the latter so advantageous as could
have been desired. Three insignificant fortresses were restored; but Severia, Smolensk, Kiev, and other possessions remained in
the iron grasp of the autocrat. In vain would the king have endeavoured to wrest them from it: without money or troops, with anarchy also before his
eyes, it was no slight blessing that he was able to preserve from day to day
the independence, nay, the existence, of the republic.
During the four following years the king was unable to
undertake any expedition for the reconquest of the lost possessions. Though he
convoked diet after diet in the hope of obtaining the necessary supplies for
that purpose, diet after diet was dissolved by the fatal veto; for the same
reason he could not procure the adoption of the many salutary courses he
recommended, to banish anarchy, to put the kingdom on a permanent footing of defence, and to amend the laws. His failure, indeed, must
be partly attributed to himself; since, great as he was, he appeared as much
alive to the aggrandisement of his own family as to
the good of the republic. There can be little doubt—and he ought to be praised
for it—that he had long meditated the means of rendering the crown hereditary
in his offspring; but the little caution with which he proceeded in this great
design, and the criminal intrigues of his queen, a French woman of little
principle, whose influence over him was unbounded, roused the jealousy of the
nobles, especially of the Lithuanians, and compelled him to suspend it. Had he
shown more prudence, as well as more firmness, in his administration, and
within his palace, his object might have been attained, and Poland preserved
from ruin, under the sway of his family.
John Sobieski had always belonged to the faction or party in
the interests of France, and, consequently, averse to that of Austria; but
there was one thing in which he would not gratify the perfidious Louis XIV. As
a Christian knight and a noble Pole, he had vowed inextinguishable hostility
against the Moslems—a feeling, in his case, deepened by the memory of his
maternal grandfather, his father, and his brother, who had all perished under
the sword of the misbelievers—and he could not consequently band with the Porte
against the empire. While the Turks were arming for the invasion of Germany,
his alliance was eagerly sought by Louis and Leopold: he entered into a treaty
offensive and defensive with the latter. To this turn in his policy he was
said, perhaps injuriously, to have been not a little disposed by the promise of
an archduchess for his eldest son, and by the resentment of some insults shown
by the grand monarque to his queen.
THE RELIEF OF VIENNA (1683 A.D.)
But the money of Louis and the venality of the Polish barons
opposed great obstacles to the ratification of this treaty by the diet. A conspiracy
was soon set on foot, the object of which was, either to turn the king from the
Austrian cause or to dethrone him. Fortunately the correspondence of the French
ambassador with the unprincipled court of Paris fell into his hands, and he was
enabled to frustrate the criminal design. To escape detection, the very
conspirators voted for a war with the infidels, and preparations were made for
a great campaign. It was tune. Vienna was invested by 300,000 Turks and Tatars,
under Kara Mustapha, the vizir; the dastardly Leopold had retreated to Linz,
and despatched messenger after messenger to hasten
the departure of Sobieski. Germany looked to him as its saviour,
and Europe as the bulwark of Christendom. Having beheld at his feet the
ambassadors of the empire and the nuncio of the pope, he left Cracow, August
15th, with a small body of Polish troops, and without waiting for the
Lithuanians; the chief part of his army, amounting in all to about thirty
thousand men, he had previously ordered to rendezvous under the walls of
Vienna.
The king found the affairs of the imperialists in a worse
situation than he had conceived. The Turkish artillery had made a practicable
breach, and the terrified inhabitants of the capital were in momentary
expectation of an assault. One evening, however, their despair was changed to
joy, as they perceived from their telescopes the appearance of the Polish
hussars on the heights of Kahleuberg. Sobieski was
enthusiastically invested with the chief command of the Christian army, consisting
of Poles, Saxons, Bavarians, and Austrians, amounting to 70,000 men. One who
had been his rival as a candidate, the duke of Lorraine, gave a noble example
of magnanimity by this submission, and by zealously co-operating in all his
plans. On the morning of September 12th commenced the mighty struggle between
the Crescent and the Cross. Throughout the day the advantage rested with the
Christians, but the vast masses of the Turks remained unbroken. Towards
nightfall the Polish king had fought his way to the intrenched camp of the
vizir, whom he perceived seated in a magnificent apartment tranquilly drinking
coffee with his two sons.
Provoked at the sight, he rushed forward, followed by an
intrepid band. With the loud war-cry of “God for Poland! ” and his pious
repetition of the well-known verse of Israel’s prophet king, “Non nobis,
non nobis, Domine exercituum, sect nomini tuo da gloriam!”
was united that of “Sobieski!” Shouts of “ Sobieski! Sobieski!” caught the ears
of the Moslems, who for the first time now certainly knew that this dreaded
hero was with the Christians. “Allah!” exclaimed the Tatar khan, “ the king is
with them sure enough!” The consternation among the infidels was extreme; but,
true to the bravery of their character, they made a vigorous stand. In vain;
their ranks strewed the ground; six pashas fell with them; the vizir fled, and
with him the remnant of his once formidable host. The Turkish camp, with its
immense riches, became the prey of the victors; not only Germany, but Europe, was
saved. The hero of Christendom hastened to the cathedral of St. Stephen to join
in a solemn Te Deum for the success of
this memorable day.
It is painful to dwell on the subsequent conduct of Leopold.
Instead of clasping the knees of his saviour with
joy, and of blushing at his own cowardice, he met the king with coolness, nay,
even with insult. His empire was saved, and as he had no need of further aid,
he took care to exhibit no further gratitude. His behaviour astonished no less than incensed the Poles, many of whom, without their king’s
permission, returned to their homes; but Sobieski, with the rest, proceeded
into Hungary in pursuit of the fugitive Moslems. By two subsequent victories
won at Parkan and Strigonia,
he freed most of that kingdom from the foot of the invaders, and would have
extended his successes far beyond the Danube, had not the Lithuanians delayed
to join him and his Polish troops insisted on returning to their country.
On his arrival he had the additional gratification of finding
that one of his generals had obtained some signal successes in the Ukraine over
a combined army of Turks and Tatars; had dethroned one hospodar of Wallachia, and elevated another better disposed to the views of the
republic.
But whilst pursuing the splendid successes of this Christian
hero, posterity must blush at the weakness of his policy, at the blindness with
which he pursued the aggrandisement of his family;
implicitly followed the counsels of his despicable queen; and trusted to the
protestations of Leopold, who, when his aid was required, never hesitated at
promises, and, when that aid was furnished, never thought of performing them.
Though the archduchess promised to his son was resigned to the elector of
Bavaria, the imperial lure of assisting him to subdue Wallachia, which was to
become a permanent sovereignty in his family, again armed him against the
Turks. To be freed from all apprehensions on the side of Muscovy, he forever
confirmed to that power the possession of Smolensk, Siewierz, Tchernigov, and the greater portion of Kiovia, with Kiev, the capital. These possessions, indeed,
he could not hope to recover; but voluntarily to have resigned them, and
forever, justly excited the indignation of many, especially when they found
that the czarina Sophia refused to perform conditions to which she had
agreed—to join the general crusade against the Porte, and to pay the republic
200,000 rubles in return for these concessions.
Having raised about forty thousand men, the king entered into
Wallachia, to conquer it for one of his sons. But the expedition had no effect,
owing partly to the exceeding dryness of the season, and to the consequent
sufferings of his army, and partly to the non-appearance of the contingents
promised by Leopold and the hospodar. He returned,
but not without loss, both from the reason already assigned, and from the
activity of the Turks in his rear, who, however, dared not attack him. A second
expedition was but partly successful; in fact, the infirmities of age had
overtaken him, and had impaired his mental no less than his bodily vigour. His failure, however, in both expeditions was owing
to circumstances over which he had no control; in neither did it dim the lustre of his martial fame.
No two men could be more unlike than Sobieski in the field
and Sobieski at his palace of government in the former he was the greatest, in
the latter the meanest, of men. He was justly despised for his tame submission
to his worthless queen. To her he abandoned all but the load of administration;
her creatures filled most offices in the state; all, too, were become venal—all
conferred on the highest bidder. The bishop Zaluski,
on this subject, relates an anecdote sufficiently characteristic of the court
where such a shameless transaction could take place. The rich see of Cracow
being vacant, the queen one day said to the bishop of Kuhn, “J wager with your
sincerity that you alone will have the bishopric of Cracow.” Of course the
prelate accepted the challenge, and, on being invested with the see, paid the
amount. Zaluski himself opened a way to the royal favour by means equally reprehensible. He presented the
queen with a medicine-chest, together with a book of directions for employing
them, valued at a few hundred ducats: she received it with contempt. The offer
of a silver altar, estimated at 10,000 crowns, of a valuable ring, and two
diamond crosses gratified her avarice, and made the fortune of the giver. Her
temper was about equal to her disinterestedness. On one occasion the king had
promised the great seal to Zaluski; the queen to Denhov: of course the latter triumphed.
“You are not ignorant,” said the king to the disappointed
claimant, his intimate friend, “ of the rights claimed by wives—with what
importunity the queen demands everything that she likes; you only have the
power to make me live tranquilly or wretchedly with my wife. She has given her
word to another, and if I refuse her the disposal of the chancellorship she
will not remain with me. I know you wish me too well to expose me to public
laughter, and I am convinced that you will let me do what she wishes, but what
I do with extreme regret.” Can this be the victor of Slobodisz, Podhaic, Kotin, and Vienna
?
It cannot be matter of much surprise that such a prince
should have little influence in the diets, or that his measures should form the
subject of severe scrutiny by many of his nobles. French money raised him up
enemies on every side; so also did that of his queen, whenever he ventured on
such as were unpalatable either to her or to her creatures. The man who could
not preserve peace in his own family, who could not prevent his wife and
eldest son, nor mother-in-law and daughter-in-law, from bringing disgrace on
his palace by their unnatural quarrels, could not be expected to have much
influence anywhere. In full senate he was often treated with marked disrespect;
the words “tyrant! traitor!” were lavished on him; and he was once or twice
invited to descend from a dignity which he dishonoured.
That he seriously entertained the design of abdication, notwithstanding the
decree against it during the interregnum of Michael Korybut,
is certain; but if he had many enemies, he had more friends, and he was
persuaded to relinquish it.
The last days of John Sobieski were passed in literary or in
philosophical contemplation. Sometimes, too, he migrated from scene to scene,
pitching his tent, like the Sarmatians of old, wherever a fine natural prospect
attracted his attention. His last hours were wrapped in mystery. He spoke to Zaluski of a dose of mercury which he had taken, and which
had occasioned him intense suffering in mind and body. “Is there no one,” he
abruptly exclaimed, whilst heavy sobs agitated his whole frame, “to avenge my
death!” This might be the raving of a sickly, nervous, distempered mind; but a
dreadful suspicion fixed on the queen. Her subsequent conduct confirmed it.
Scarcely was the breath out of his body when she seized on his treasures, and
renewed her quarrels with her eldest son, Prince James, with a bitterness that
showed she felt no regret for his loss.
Sobieski was the last independent king of Poland. His enemies
could not but allow that he was one of the greatest characters in royal
biography, the greatest beyond comparison in the regal annals of his country.
He died in 1696.
CHAPTER IIITHE EXTINCTION OF A KINGDOM[1696-1796 A.D.]
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