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# {2-17.} A Ruler Bereft of Social Support

This tranquillity proved to be short-lived, for Gábor Báthori had not come to the principality in order to be a tool of his subjects. His ardent desire was to rule, but with his hasty and erratic style, he failed to build a solid foundation for his power.

Báthori surrounded himself with a very diverse set of advisers. The latter included representatives of families that had been politically active in Transylvania since the Szapolyai era, such as István Kendi, who became chancellor after the dismissal of János Petki; Boldizsár Kornis, captain-general of the Székelys, and Zsigmond Kornis; the councillors Farkas Kamuti, lord lieutenant of Torda county, and Boldizsár Szilvási, leaseholder of fiscal revenues; and Mihály Dengelegi, one of whose ancestors had served as Transylvania's voivode in the 15th century. Another group of advisers — Ferenc Rhédey, Gabriel Bethlen, Farkas Wesselényi, János Ghiczy, Pongrác Sennyey, and György Varkoch — belonged to families that attained prominence during the Báthoris' rule. And, finally, there was the chief advisor, János Imrefi, who had come to the principality at the time of the Bocskai uprising.

The perpetual rivalry between old and new members of the social elite was sharpened by the recent events. Gábor Báthori's relatives belonged to the pro-Turkish opposition that had been crushed in 1594; so did the family of István Kendi, whose father had been beheaded. The new prince's entourage included men who had taken up arms for the Habsburgs: Boldizsár Kornis fought in Basta's army. Pongrác Sennyey and Gáspár Kornis were known as Voivode Mihai's men. The few years that had elapsed since the turbulent turn of the century did not erase these political divergences.

Apart from these social and political conflicts and the different degrees of responsibility for the flawed policies of the recent past, religion also served to divide Báthori's entourage. Most of them were, like the prince, Calvinists, but there were some Catholics, {2-18.} including Pongrác Sennyey, Boldizsár and Gáspár Kornis, and István Kendi. In peaceful times, religious differences counted for little, but they would inspire mistrust in more critical circumstances.

The prince's capricious grants of property induced uncertainty. He showered properties and privileges upon the recently-arrived János Imrefi, and there were others to benefit from his unpredictable largesse. Since no one had earned new merit since Báthori's accession to the throne, the grants of property recompensed old services or simply testified to the prince's favor. There was no apparent correlation between merit and reward, and instead of winning him supporters, the grants induced hostile rumours. The political elite wallowed in suspicion and resentment, and instead of dissipating this pervasive mistrust, Báthori by his capriciousness exacerbated the discord in his entourage. They began to gossip about the prince's mistresses and speculate about the part played by councillors' or confidants' wives in securing princely favors.

Báthori's behavior had an even more negative impact on the citizenry. His amorous pursuits led him through his domain's castles, but he indulged in much revelry in the towns as well.

Instead of improving the country's economy, he exploited places that still had some resources. Thus he held his sister's wedding in Kolozsvár; organized a wildly extravagant reception in Szeben for the emissary bringing the sultan's athname; and indulged in costly festivities at Brassó. He ferreted out the last sources of wealth remaining in the war-ravaged principality, but failed to apply a rational and modern economic policy that might have developed these resources into a supportive foundation for his rule.

Indeed, the young prince was wholly unprepared for his task, and he probably knew nothing of the economic policies pursued in the more modern states of his day. Bereft of theoretical knowledge, he was driven by his instincts in the worst directions. He did not {2-19.} realize that the urban citizenry could generate revenues only if it benefited from a rational administration, which not only imposed taxes but also promoted the commerce and industry that created wealth. He exploited citizens with the immediacy of a medieval prince: instead of systematic taxation, he simply exhausted their resources during his capricious visits. With the indifference of a feudal lord, he exacerbated social cleavages by sustaining his vast and profligate court with the resources of sober citizens. In the process, he aroused great antagonism against himself and his entourage. All over the country, people would covertly repeat the satirical verse from Brassó: 'When he gorges himself, gets drunk and chatters to his heart's content, His Nibs Gabriel can outdo a hundred Sardanapals.'[11]11. M. Weiss, 'Liber annalium raptim scriptus, (DFGS, p. 208). (Translator's note: Sardanapalus, or Ashurbanipal was an Assyrian king renowned for profligate magnificence.)

The prince failed to offer anything in return for his extractions from the citizenry. Moreover, his policies harmed their most direct interests and liberties. Thus, in the end, his actions served to turn the country's citizens against himself.

Báthori had long nurtured plans to confront the towns. It was reported that at his induction feast, he had evoked the comment of his illustrious ancestor, King Stephen Báthori, that 'whoever wants to control Transylvania must pocket the keys to Szeben, and then he can treat the Saxons as he likes.'[12]12. G. Krauss, 'Siebenbürgische Chronik 1608-1665' (FRA-S, 36). But whereas King Stephen had won the support of the Saxons' Universitas by confirming their privileges, Prince Gábor planned to seize their prosperous and secure towns by forceful means. On his first try, soon after he became prince, his council blocked this scheme along with his aggressive plans regarding the Romanian voivodeships.

The young prince's patience soon ran out. Barely a year after his election, and in utter disregard of domestic public opinion, he set to putting his plans into action. His first step in breaching the constraints imposed by feudal orders was to make a show of force over Moldavia.

{2-20.} On 14 June, 1609, he dispatched the Transylvanian expert on the voivodeships, Chief Justice Mihály Weiss, to retrieve the documents of the treaty that had been signed a year earlier and to halt trade between the two countries. The justification that he offered to the chief justice and to the Moldavians was the latter's failure to pay tribute. Weiss was greatly embarrassed by the commission: since the deadline for the tribute had not yet passed, the pretext he was asked to present in Iaşi was plainly fabricated. His discomfort was accentuated by the fact that the Moldavians were well aware of his own preference was to preserve peace at all costs. Unwilling — or fearful — of defying Báthori, Weiss resorted to covert resistance: he returned without the requested documents but with the young voivode's promise that the tribute would be paid as soon as possible. Thus Mihály Weiss avoided provoking war with Moldavia.

Iaşi's envoy, who arrived on November 1, expressed his country's deep apprehensions but brought only part of the tribute: 2,000 forints, as well as a horse and a goat as a gift. The prince dismissed the token tax, but kept the modest presents, and ordered the emissary to be incarcerated until the letter of alliance was returned. The Moldavians complied, sending back the document along with a gift of forty goats, and girded for a war that seemed unavoidable. That outcome was nevertheless averted, for Transylvania's political elite mounted a conspiracy that reinforced Mihály Weiss' tacit opposition.

It is not known how long the plot had been brewing, but in the spring of 1610 the conspirators decided to have the prince assassinated. An opportunity presented itself when, on 25 March, Báthori set off for a meeting of the diet in Beszterce. A stableman, János Török, was chosen to perform the deed in the prince's chamber at the castle of István Kendi. In the event, the young man — whether by premeditation or in a sudden fit of fright when he confronted the unsuspecting prince — held his hand and divulged the plot.

{2-21.} István Kendi, the prince's host and a leading conspirator, promptly took flight, but the initiator of the plot, Boldizsár Kornis, was arrested. It soon came to light that only a few aristocrats and Kendi's household staff were privy to the plot. It was obviously no coincidence that both the chancellor and the Székely captain-general had taken a leading role. Contemporaries were disposed seek the motive for the abortive plot in Báthori's sudden 'passion' for the wife of Boldizsár Kornis. In fact, aristocrats who had formed Transylvania's ruling elite since the Szapolyai era joined forces against a prince, who, in their opinion, gave too much preference to newcomers. The plot was thus generated by an internal struggle for power.

Báthori's self-confidence was not shaken by these events. Apparently unaffected by his confidants' disloyalty, he turned the crisis into a show of strength. In early July, Boldizsár Kornis was publicly beheaded, the audience including members of the diet and as well as the emissaries of the two Romanian voivodeships, who happened to be in Transylvania at the time. Having demonstrated what fate awaited his enemies, Báthori rewarded the faithful: Imrefi and Gabriel Bethlen won the offices vacated by Kendi and Kornis. Thus the ruling elite began change, with the leading positions taken the prince's most loyal familiars.

Although all signs pointed to a consolidation of Báthori's power in the summer of 1610, the ruler's subsequent actions testified to a certain confusion. Relations with Moldavia, broken a year earlier, were once again normalized. In July 1610, following Kornis's spectacular execution, Báthori sent back to Moldavia — without comment — the documents of the 1608 treaty to Moldavia. His action, records a chronicler, brought 'shame' upon Transylvania.[13]13. Weiss, 'Liber annalium', p. 215.

What followed was even harder to explain. In a manner reminiscent of a medieval robber baron or of a boy playing at war, Báthori took Szeben by ruse. There was no apparent immediate {2-22.} motive. To be sure, Gyulafehérvár was still partly in ruins and bereft of fortifications, and thus not the safest seat for a prince. Yet the occupation of the seat of the Universitas represented an blatant violation of Saxon rights, and the circumstances provoked legitimate outrage.

The prince had come to the town on 11 December, 1610, a few days before the opening of the diet. Szeben's unwary citizens gave him a ceremonial welcome. Their suspicions were not aroused even when Báthori sent ahead fifty of his soldiers, but, in any case, there was little they could have done. Their impotence was displayed the following day, when the prince's army marched into the walled town — something no armed enemy had ever managed to do. The subterfuge was disarmingly simple: Báthori positioned himself on the drawbridge, which the guards did not dare to raise when his troops came out of concealment and, as if on parade, marched in past the prince. Thus the Saxons' proud town fell to Báthori without a gunshot. Three days later, he took possession of the keys to Szeben. If the old adage was to be believed, Báthori now controlled Transylvania.

The feudal orders nevertheless turned against him. Although Báthori accused the people of Szeben of having been party to the Kendi conspiracy, he failed to have the alleged ringleaders executed, for the diet was only willing to impose a fine on the town. Undeterred, Báthori declared Szeben to be his princely seat and behaved as if the country was solidly behind him. On December 26, he left his new capital to march on Wallachia.

If Báthori anticipated a great and glorious war, he was disappointed. Having got wind of the approach of powerful armies, Radu Şerban fled to Moldavia, and then to Vienna. Without having to engage in battle, Báthori proceeded to the capital, Tîrgovişte, where he had himself declared Prince of Wallachia.

As an afterthought, he dispatched an 18-man delegation to Constantinople to secure the Porte's endorsement of his campaign. {2-23.} Their difficult task was to persuade the Ottoman dignitaries that Báthori had the Porte's interests at heart when he overran Wallachia; that he had secured Wallachia for Constantinople by expelling the dangerous Voivode Şerban. Further, his envoys were to submit an ambitious plan, in terms of which this military expedition was only a prelude to the seizure of the Polish kingdom. If the Porte assented, the Polish throne would be occupied by a loyal king, Gábor Báthori.

It appears, thus, that Báthori entertained hopes of gaining the Polish crown. The precedent of King Stephen was an inspiration to Transylvania's princes, and Gábor would readily evoke the legacy of his distant relative. He may well have purposely adopted a roundabout strategy, striking first to the south before sweeping northward to conquer Poland. Whether or not he had actually sized up the balance of forces, the moment was propitious, for the Porte was no longer intent on preserving peace at all costs in the region. The Ottomans were ready to move against Poland, but Báthori was not their chosen tool.

Instead of endorsing Báthori's plans, the Porte ordered him to return home and appointed Radu Mihnea as Wallachia's new voivode. Gábor Báthori had little choice. On March 18, after two months's absence, he headed back to Transylvania. To keep up appearances, Gabriel Bethlen was left behind in Tîrgovişte with a small contingent, and charged with welcoming the new voivode and concluding a treaty with him. In early April, after Radu Mihnea had been installed, Bethlen also returned home.