Austria-Hungary

Almost directly after leaving the city to continue the voyage southward, we find ourselves close to the island of Csepel, very like others passed above, only more so! The Danube seems to have a peculiar facility in dividing itself into two branches, which run almost parallel and rejoin after a longer or shorter course. The islands thus formed are celebrated for the fertility of their alluvial soil and are eagerly taken up by peasant agriculturists.

Csepel is a strip of 38 miles or so with an average breadth of 3 miles, on each side of which the arms of the divided river run almost straight. There are at least a dozen villages planted along the island and some 20,000 inhabitants live there.

Apart from this curious feature of the landscape, any one who has come down from the higher reaches of the Danube may feel disappointed at the scenery; he has had his fill of variety and grandeur, of precipitous rocks and sudden turns, and he finds himself instead in the midst of flat land bounded only on the far horizon by hills. The great stillness, the monotony, the evidences of the simple agricultural life of the dwellers in the plain, all contrast with the rush of rapids, the endless change of scene and the suggestions of war and brigandage presented by the stern ruins of the keeps perched defiantly on their high bosses. Nevertheless, in the plain is to be found the true Hungarian life and glimpses of the peasantry. The Hungarian is not a mountain-man like the Transylvanian or Tyrolese. In the long-gone ages it was the boundless plain which tempted his forefathers to settle here, and at the present time it is the boundless plain which holds his heart in captivity.

The great soda lakes lying flat like mirages are deserted by birds in the winter but become the resting-place of numerous flights of geese in spring and autumn. The little villages are half-buried in vineyards and show only the steeple of a church or the white walls of the tiny houses. Great water-mills float placidly everywhere, even though their numbers have been reduced by the adoption of steam. The vast reaches of cultivated land looking rich in the sunlight are varied by the flocks of sheep being watered at a primitive trough and well; just so did Jacob water the flocks when he met Rachel. The immediate banks of the river are mostly sand-hills and reeds, fringed by straggling willows which give scanty shade, and the bed of the stream, ever varying in depth, needs careful navigation.

Kalocsa is the seat of an archbishop, and contains a famous college and an astronomical institute in which observations of value and importance to the whole world have been made. A branch line joins this town with Kiskaros, the birthplace of Alexander Petöfi.

Then we come to Mohács, ever memorable as the scene of the disastrous battle when the Turks so completely overwhelmed the Hungarians that the nation was ground beneath the heel of the conqueror for generations. This was in 1526, and out of 30,000 Hungarians only 6000, it is said, were left alive.

Shortly after we come to the Francis Canal, connecting the Danube with the Tisza, Hungary’s second river. It was opened in 1802 but became choked and useless. By the energy of Zürr Stephen, who enlarged it and cut two new canals connected with it, it was once more turned into a useful waterway. When joined by the Drave, the river gains in size and importance, but it is not until we pass into the spurs of the Carpathians that the scenery once again grows grander, and after seven or eight miles we find a steam ferry where a whole train is carried bodily across the Danube. Ruined forts and towering crags now spring up once more, and on a lump or rock 200 feet high is the fortress of Peterwardein, with the little town at the foot; this was called after Peter the Hermit, whose birthplace it is supposed to be. Not far off the little town of Karlovicz nestles among its vineyards; it is renowned for its vermouth.

Where the Theiss or Tisza flows into the larger river the larger plains on each side are broad and level. This is a well-loved river and carries with it the hearts of the Hungarians, more even than the Danube, which has such a cosmopolitan character. The Tisza belongs to Hungary, from source to outlet, and traverses the great plain which so embodies the Hungarian’s ideas of his country. It runs across such flat ground that the fall is very small, consequently the windings are absurdly exaggerated, and the river has the appearance of a twisted bit of ribbon falling in heaps.

With the junction of the Save on the right bank the Danube forms the southern boundary of Hungary itself, separating it from Servia, whose capital, Belgrade, is just at this corner, which appears a most dangerous situation for a capital. After this the navigation gets more difficult, and many fortified places on the hills which have played a share in the relentless wars against the Turks stand up conspicuously on their isolated promontories. There is endless diversity of scenery, endless variation in the swiftness of the current as the bed of the river widens or contracts.

The river Temes flows into the Danube which, once more bifurcating, forms another island nearly 4 miles in length. The Kubin then joins it from Servia, and from Bazias the Lower Danube begins. The island of Moldava, 3 miles long, lies in the midst of an area of shifting sand-banks. At the far end the Danube is over 2000 yards broad, contracting with startling suddenness to a quarter of that width. At the end of this wedge is the pinnacle-like rock of Babakhai, standing out in midstream near two islands. It has an interesting legend connected with it.

The next place of interest is the castle of Kolumbacz.

This fine description is still as true as when it was written many years ago.

The Kolumbacz fly, a peculiarly virulent kind of mosquito, is known and dreaded far and wide. Tradition says that in a cave in these rocks St. George slew the dragon and that the swarms originated in its putrefying carcase, an explanation which does not incline one to endure the torments meekly.

Finest of all the defiles through which we go is the Kazan Pass, where the river-bed narrows to 400 feet, and the towering cliffs rise to a height of 2000 feet, and fall so sheer to the water that without artificial means not even a goat could pass along their base. But no less than two roads can be seen, one on each side; one is clear and well-kept, the other fallen to ruin. The first was that made by the Romans in the time of Trajan, and wonderfully they did their work. In the absence of gunpowder, they made a way by fixing great baulks of timber, cut from the primeval forests of oak which clothed the cliffs, into niches or sockets cut in the living rock. These they further supported by hewing out a terrace or platform for part of their length, and then by filling in the projecting part with other timber; thus they formed a kind of hanging gallery broad enough for men to march along. Part of the rock was smoothed and an inscription recording the date of the work was made, but wind and weather have done their part, and it became almost indecipherable. Stimulated by this fine example, Count Széchenyi followed it in the nineteenth century, and made a road all along the river, which will endure for all time, because, having the use of gunpowder, the solid rock was blasted to make it. At the entrance to the Pass a smooth tablet cut in the rock records his work.

At Orsova Servia and Hungary, which have marched with the Danube, meet Roumania, so that the famous “Iron Gates” are the concern of all three rulers equally.

The term Iron Gate leads one instinctively to expect a defile as stern as that of Kazan or many another further upstream; as a matter of fact, the term gate is more appropriate than it would be to a mere defile, which, however narrow, would be open. The gate consisted of ridges of rock in the river-bed, forming quite as great an impediment to river traffic as any iron barrier reared vertically. These rocks have been removed by blasting and now, though the channel requires navigation, it is quite practicable at any state of the water. The “Gate” was declared open by the rulers of the three countries which meet at this point in 1896, though the work had been completed by Hungary alone. The length of the rapids is 1700 yards more or less, and the drop is considerable. This is the end of our special subject in this direction, though a continuation of the trip to the Black Sea may be recommended.