both banks of the Danube, as far as the Gran and the Raab. Stephen was undismayed, his courage rather rose with the perils environing him. He bade the people throughout the land to fast and pray, for not alone his kingdom was at stake, but the independence of the Hungarian Church was menaced by the imperial forces. Those who looked with indifference at the cause of the Hungarian crown and the cross, had their enthusiasm excited by the proud satisfaction of fighting in defence of the national dignity and liberty. Amongst those western nations who had been for so long a time harassed by the military expeditions of the Hungarians, the German people, feeling its strength, was the first to turn its arms against the former assailants. But Conrad’s attack proved unsuccessful against the united strength of the king and the nation, between whom the peril from without had restored full harmony, and he was compelled to leave the country in the autumn of the very year in which he entered upon the war, dejectedly returning to Germany after a campaign of utter failure instead of the expected triumphs. Peace was concluded in the following year, and the emperor acknowledged the independence of the young but powerful kingdom. Conrad’s son, who subsequently succeeded to the imperial throne as Henry III., visited Stephen at his court, in order to draw closer the ties of amity between the two countries. The danger had passed for the time being, but the apprehensions of Stephen were far from being allayed as he pondered on the future. The peace just concluded did not satisfy him; there were no guaranties for its preservation, nor had he any faith in its being a permanent peace, for he well knew that the German kings, as long as they wore the imperial crown, would not fail to repeat their attacks on the independence of the young kingdom. Reflections of this sombre nature often filled his soul with despondency, and then came occasions when he entertained fears that the nation might not be strong enough to withstand the dangers threatening her, or that if she triumphed she would, in the intoxication of her victory, turn with exasperation against those innovations which had brought the foreign foes upon her.
All his hopes centred in Duke Emeric, his only son, who, under the care of the pious Bishop Gerhard, grew up to be a fine youth, full of promise, in whom his fond father discovered all those qualities which he wished him to possess for the good of his nation. The young prince was, indeed, very zealous in his faith; his piety amounted almost to frenzy, and he turned away from the world, despising its joys and harassing struggles, and seeking the salvation of his soul in self-denial and the mortification of his flesh. He was, in truth, the holy child of a holy parent, but not born to rule as the fit son of a great king. He preferred the cloister to the royal throne, and, far from inheriting the apostolic virtues of his august father, he was rather inclined to indulge in the errors of the age he lived in. But the aged king, dazzled by the lustre of his son’s holiness, was blind to his shortcomings. He had faith in him, for in him he saw his only hope. In order fitly to prepare him for his future royal mission, he set down for him in writing the experiences of his long and beneficent rule, and the wisdom and goodness treasured up in his heart and mind. These admonitions addressed to his son have been spared by all-devouring time, and to this day they are apt to delight and instruct us as one of the most precious relics of that age. The reader will surely be pleased with a few specimens of these exhortations:
“I cannot refrain, my beloved son,” Stephen wrote, “from giving thee advice, instruction, and commands whereby to guide thyself and thy subjects. * * * Strive to obey sedulously the injunctions of thy father, for if thou despisest these thou lovest neither God nor man. Be therefore dutiful, my son; thou hast been brought up amidst delights and treasures, and knowest nothing of the arduous labors of war and the perils of hostile invasions by foreign nations, in the midst of which nearly my whole life has been passed. The time has arrived to leave behind thee those pillows of luxuriousness which are apt to render thee weak and frivolous, to make thee waste thy virtues, and to nourish in thee thy sins. Harden thy soul in order that thy mind may attentively listen to my counsels.”
After enlarging in ten paragraphs upon the topic of his counsels, he proceeds as follows: “I command, counsel, and advise thee, above all, to preserve carefully the apostolic and Catholic faith if thou wishest thy kingly crown to be held in respect, and to set such an example to thy subjects that the clergy may justly call thee a Christian man, * * * for he who does not adorn his faith with good deeds—the one being a dead thing without the others—cannot rule in honor.”
Stephen then lays down rules of conduct towards the magnates of the realm, the lay lords, the high dignitaries, and the warriors, as follows: “They are, my dear son, thy fathers and thy brothers, neither call them nor make them thy servents. Let them combat for thee, but not serve thee. Rule over them peaceably, humbly, and gently, without anger, pride, and envy, bearing in mind that all men are equal, that nothing exalts more than humility, nor is there any thing more degrading than pride and envy. If thou wilt be peaceable, every one will love thee and call thee a brave king, but if thou wilt be irritable, overbearing, and envious, and look down upon the lords, the might of the warriors will weaken thy kingly state, and thou wilt lose thy realm. Govern them with thy virtues, so that, inspired by love for thee, they may adhere to thy royal dignity.”
He then recommends, above all, patience and careful inquiry in the administration of justice in these words: “Whenever a capital cause or other cause of great importance be brought before thee for judgment, be not impatient, nor indulge in oaths beforehand that the accused shall be brought to punishment. Do not hasten to pronounce judgment thyself, lest thy royal dignity be impaired thereby, but leave the cause rather in the hands of the regular judges. Fear the functions of a judge, and even the name of a judge, and rather rejoice in being and having the name of a righteous king. Patient kings rule, impatient ones oppress. If, however, there be a cause which it is fit for thee to decide, judge mercifully and patiently to the enhancement of the praise and glory of thy crown.”
Speaking of the foreigners settled in the country, he says: “The Roman empire owed its growth, and its rulers their glory and power, chiefly to the numerous wise and noble men who gathered within its boundaries from every quarter of the world. * * * Foreigners coming from different countries and places to settle here bring with them a variety of languages, customs, instructive matters, and arms, which all contribute to adorn and glorify the royal court, holding in check, at the same time, foreign powers. A country speaking but one language, and where uniform customs prevail, is weak and frail. Therefore I enjoin on thee, my son, to treat and behave towards them decorously, so that they shall more cheerfully abide with thee than elsewhere. For if thou shouldst spoil what I have built up, and scatter what I have gathered, thy realm would surely suffer great detriment from it.”
The preference of Stephen for the immigrants from abroad did not degenerate into contempt for ancient customs, for he thus concludes: “It is both glorious and royal to respect the laws of the forefathers and to imitate ancestors worthy of reverence. He who holds in contempt the decisions of his predecessors will not keep the laws of God. Conform, therefore, my dear son, to my institutions, and follow without hesitation my customs, which befit the royal dignity. It would be difficult for thee to govern a realm of this character without following the precedents laid down by those who governed before thee. Adhere, therefore, to my customs, so that thou shalt be deemed the first amongst thine, and merit the praise of the stranger. * * * The evil-minded ruler who stains himself with cruelty vainly calls himself king; he but deserves the name of a tyrant. I therefore beseech and enjoin upon thee, my beloved son, thou delight of my heart and hope of the coming generation, be, above all, gracious, not only to thy kinsmen, to princes, and to dukes, but also to thy neighbors and subjects; be merciful and forbearing not only to the powerful but to the weak; and, finally, be strong, lest good fortune elate thee, and bad fortune depress thee. Be humble, moderate, and gentle, be honorable and modest, for these virtues are the chief ornaments of the kingly crown.”
But the young duke was not fated to realize the hopes of his fond father. In the very year (1031), and on the very day, say the chronicles, on which Stephen intended to have his son annointed before the nation as his successor, the mysterious edict of divine Providence suddenly took him away. In place of the crown of terrestrial power, his unstained life, nipped in the bud, was to be rewarded by the glory of everlasting salvation.
