No one can rightly enjoy a visit to a country unless he knows something of its history and its heroes; otherwise much that is seen remains meaningless. It is a common saying among oculists that we see with the brain and not with the eye, and the saying is fulfilled when we pass by, as without meaning, this or that magnificent statue embodying in concrete marble or bronze an epoch of vital action in the history of a nation.
But besides what we miss from want of that observation whose roots are embedded in knowledge, there are other things duly noted, and but half comprehended, with a vagueness that is irritating. Especially is this the case in a country of such an amalgamate nature as Austria-Hungary, where at every turn something unexpected challenges query. How comes it, for instance, that having left behind a Parliament House in Vienna we find another in Budapest though both own allegiance to the same sovereign? Why should Hungarians be so much exasperated if their country is spoken of as part of an empire when they acknowledge an Emperor as their ruler?
To gain some grip of these matters a short historical introduction is undoubtedly necessary. I do not think, however, that history should always begin at the beginning, though many people have a passion for delving into the past and groping after the roots of a subject, which often prove, when unearthed, to be exceedingly dry. The same tendency may be observed in writers of biography, who are rarely content to begin with the man or woman whose life they are undertaking, or even with their parents, but frequently go back through many centuries, dwelling at dreary length upon tedious details which occupy half the book before the pith and core of the matter is reached.
Hence in this very cursory sketch of the Dual Monarchy only so much as is essential to give colour and life to the whole book in all its aspects shall be dealt with.
At the present time Austria and Hungary are governed by Francis Joseph, Emperor of Austria and King of Hungary. The two countries are united for the purposes of Defence, Foreign Affairs, and Finance, including the Post Office, but have separate Houses of Parliament, an Upper and a Lower, in each capital, namely Vienna and Budapest. The respective Houses of Parliament are for common purposes represented by two Delegations, each composed of sixty members, and convened by the Emperor once a year alternately at Vienna and Budapest. These members, of which twenty are chosen from each Upper House and forty from each Lower one, are only appointed for one year.
As a composite State, Austria-Hungary plays a forceful part in the concert of the great European nations and wields authority which neither half could achieve alone. The very first necessity of power among modern nations is preparedness for war, and in spite of the curiously differing races and nationalities represented in the Austro-Hungarian army with its two and a half millions of soldiers, the army owns solidarity and force enough to make itself respected.
Hungary is the inner part of this composite country, the core, so to speak, and she lies in the arms of Austria somewhat after the fashion that the “old” moon may be seen lying in the arms of the “new” one; for the provinces included in the Empire ring her round on the north and west in what is more or less a semicircle.
In some particulars we may draw a parallel between the Dual Monarchy and the United Kingdom of Great Britain, for in both cases the union was effected by the fact of the countries concerned having the same reigning house. The differences, however, are manifold. It was by inheritance that the Scottish Stuarts came to the English throne on the dying out of the elder branches; it was by election the Austrian Hapsburgs were chosen for the Hungarian monarchy. Again there has been between Austria and Hungary no Act of Union, though the Pragmatic Sanction of 1723 formed a more “personal” union than before. It is the tie of the Royal House alone which unites them, and it is expediency only which dictates the amalgamation of the military power and finance in the two countries. Even here there are sore jealousies. It is obviously necessary that the same words of command should be used for the whole army, or disaster would result on the field of battle. These words are given in German, a foreign language to the rawly-joined Hungarian recruit, and Hungarian national pride is sorely wounded thereby. The dilemma is a difficult one, and this question remains ever an open wound. The Hungarians have besought the King that their own language might supersede German, but though he has proved kindly to his Hungarian subjects in many other ways, he remains adamant on this.
The greatest difference, however, between the Dual Monarchy and the United Kingdom is the difference brought into high relief by the above point, namely the racial and linguistic diversity between Austria and Hungary. The inhabitants of the two countries are not men of one blood and one tongue as the English and Scots are, but are separated by lines of deep cleavage. And this main cleavage is repeated in numerous smaller fractures, so that the kingdom is split and cracked in many directions. Fiercely as the Hungarians demand full play for their own nationality, yet they would stamp it out in the lesser races within their borders, who just as eagerly demand their own rights. Never was any country so split up and divided, and the difficulty is increased by the fact that the political boundaries are not coterminous with the national ones, but in many cases the frontiers run through the middle of the same race, so that half of it lies within and half without the territory owning Francis Joseph as sovereign! Insurrections outside the borders naturally set aflame the sympathies of those of similar blood within, and disturbances are chronic. It is natural enough therefore that, even setting aside her own desire to snatch an outlet to the sea as the result of the resettling occasioned by the Balkan War, Austria-Hungary should be aroused and shaken to the core by the fighting between races to whom many of her own subjects are blood-brothers.
The Hungarian, Dr. Julius de Vargha, thus sums up the situation; he says:
However strong the specially Austrian traditions may be, the Germans (in Austria-Hungary) stand under the alluring influence of the splendour and power of the great German Empire. The Italians long to join Italy; the Slovenians, Croatians and Servians dream of the establishment of a great southern Slav Empire; the Roumanians are drawn toward the independent kingdom of Roumania. The Hungarians alone (Magyars) are possessed of no dreams of disintegration; their past, present and future binds them to their present home; and they are consequently the firmest pillar in the monarchy of the Hapsburg.
He further says that the Magyar nation stands between the Germanic and Slav worlds “like an insulator between two opposing electric currents.” This is of course a bit of special pleading, and we fancy the Austrian would hotly disclaim any leaning toward Germany; but it is interesting as showing how the matter appears to the Hungarian mind.
The Dual Monarchy is split into numerous small territories, each with its own history and its own importance. There are no less than eleven languages in this polyglot country, and over all rules the one German-speaking monarch. Part of the Tyrol, one of the best known of the European playgrounds, lies in Austria, but part is in Italy. Bosnia and Herzegovina, the latest acquisitions, do not seem, geographically speaking, to belong to Austria at all, yet they are now included in her territory. Dalmatia, with its Italian population, is another outlying district, and it is vitally important because of its sea-coast. The smaller districts of Carinthia, Carniola, and Moravia lie northward, and above them again is Bohemia, once a kingdom by itself, with a stirring history. North of Hungary is the huge and little known Galicia, not to be confounded with Galicia in the north-west corner of Spain, though the name is spelt precisely in the same way. To the east of Hungary is Transylvania, and south of it Slavonia and Croatia. Still we have only named the best-known divisions.
The whole comprises an immense area; a line drawn round it runs to over 5000 miles and encloses a territory larger than that of any other European country except Russia.
One quarter of the population is German, another quarter Magyar (or Hungarian) and Roumanian, whilst the remaining half is made up of Italians together with Slavs, namely Poles, Croatians, Czechs, Slovaks.
The Magyars, a wild and interesting gipsy race, live in the centre of Hungary, more or less, while the Slavs, of the same blood as the Servians, are ringed round to the north and south, and outside them again on the German side come the Germans.
How did such diverse elements come to be included in one empire?
As might be supposed the centre of Europe took long to settle down. In the case of a country so happily situated as Great Britain the boundaries are natural ones. As for Spain (including Portugal) any child could rule off a line across the Pyrenees and say that the territory beyond would make a compact kingdom. France again is favoured by nature, though on one side she lies open. But when you come to the middle part of Europe there is nothing to indicate where one country should end and another begin, and the friction over boundaries never dies down; as a fact, it seems pure chance that the matter for the moment remains as it is. It might just as well have been the Austrian Empire which comprised the whole of the middle of Europe as the German one, had not the “luck” of the Austrian Emperor been adverse when the moment was ripe. Indeed, it is but a short time since the map gained its present outlines, and who can say it will remain stable?
The Holy Roman Empire included the present Austria-Hungary, with all that is now Germany. It was only about the beginning of our era that the name Austria arose, meaning the Ost-land or East-land; before that time the country was a dependency of Bavaria. About the same date Hungary emerged into a recognised kingdom under St. Stephen (997–1038), who was to that nation what King Alfred was to England. He endowed the church with great liberality, and was cultured far beyond the measure of his contemporaries. He advanced civilisation and trade, and was one of those enlightened souls which are now and then born out of due time to give light and leading to their fellows. The 20th of August is consecrated to him, and on that day a great procession is formed to carry through the capital his right hand embalmed and enclosed in a golden casket. To this day the Kings of Hungary are crowned with the crown presented by the Pope to the first King of Hungary. This forms the upper part of the present diadem, which stands on a new base. Once at least in its history this glorious and ancient crown was lost in the mud! When Otto the Bavarian came to be King of Hungary in 1301 he brought with him the sacred crown, which had before been taken away by the Germans, his allies. But the crown, in the confusion of the entry, was lost, and was only found at length in the deep mud of the hill tracks through which the party had passed.
In 1301 Stephen’s dynasty, the House of Arpad, became extinct, after giving to the nation many good kings, besides the two canonised, St. Stephen and St. Ladislas. Hungary had later as well good kings of other blood, including Louis the Great (1342–82), King of Poland also, when it was for a while the most powerful nation in central Europe.1
1 The national poet Bajza says that at this epoch “the shores of three seas formed the frontiers of the kingdom.”
The Turks were always a thorn in the side of their northern neighbours, and their endless incursions and alarms were shared almost equally by Austria and Hungary, and in the end were the means of uniting the two countries. In his warfare with the Turks the great general, Janos Hunyadi, proved amazingly valiant and gained victories against desperate odds. Unluckily in one such combat the reigning King, Ladislas, was slain, and his head, raised aloft by his enemies, inspired panic among his own people and ensured their defeat. Nothing daunted, Hunyadi pursued his successes in the reign of the next King, and in 1456 scattered a Turkish host under the walls of Belgrade. It is said that 40,000 of his men were killed, and just in the hour of victory the great commander himself died. Besides being a notable general he was a wise statesman and a strong unselfish man.
His son, Matthias Corvinus Hunyadi (1458–1490), who was only fifteen, was afterwards elected King, and his name is one of the most remarkable in the whole roll of the Hungarians. From his youth up he had been accustomed to take care of himself in the midst of danger, and he developed into a resolute and strong soldier; what was perhaps more remarkable was that he was a patron of the arts and learning. His library was his chief pride, and in an age when reading was scorned he spent hours daily in this favourite resort. Here is a description of it taken from Hungary by Arminius Vambery (The Story of the Nations).
The library was in the castle of Buda, and the place assigned to it comprised two large halls, provided with windows of artistically stained glass opening into each other. The entrance consisted of a semi-circular hall commanding a magnificent view of the Danube. Both halls were provided with rich furniture. One of them contained the king’s couch, covered with tapestry embroidered with pearls, upon which he spent his leisure hours reading. Tripod-shaped chairs, covered with carpet, were placed about, recalling the Delphian Apollo. Richly carved shelves ran along the walls and were curtained with purple velvet tapestry, interwoven with gold. It would be difficult to describe properly the magnificence of the books themselves. They were all written on white vellum and bound in coloured skins, ornamented with rose diamonds and precious stones, and with the king’s portrait or his arms. The pages are illuminated with miniature paintings and ornaments, vying with each other in excellence, and the work of some of the most famous illuminators of the age.
The palace of Matthias was enriched by the work of the best sculptors of the time, and his library was continually increased by the labour of copyists, whom he employed to transcribe manuscripts in Italy. It was the Golden Age in Hungary, and the chivalrous and strong monarch attracted to himself poets, painters, and literary men from all the civilised countries of Europe. Among other things he founded an academy of letters. These indications of a scholarly mind would have been of no avail in that rude age unless there had been strong physical prowess behind them; a weakling, whatever his intellectual calibre, would have been scorned. King Matthias, however, was one of those unusual men who combine mental and physical qualities of the highest order. He was as much a soldier as a scholar, and he asked no luxury in the camp or on the battlefield, content to share in all the hardships imposed upon his men. His courage was proverbial, and his heedlessness of danger so great that he was supposed to bear a charmed life, though not invulnerable, as numerous scars testified.
In person Matthias was tall and broad, with a massive head and keen eyes. He gave the most scrupulous and impartial justice to all his people alike, so that he was surnamed “The Just,” and when he died there was a current saying, “King Matthias is dead and justice is no more.” His death was due to apoplexy, and he left no legitimate son to succeed him.
By this time the House of Hapsburg had come to the fore. They had originally held possessions in Switzerland and later gained position and power as Dukes of Austria, Styria, Carniola, etc. When the German Emperor Conrad died in 1254 there was no successor until Rudolph of Hapsburg was elected to fill the vacant place. The German Emperor, or “King of the Romans,” as he was called, was always elected, and the honour was not hereditary, hence it did not pass of right to Rudolph’s descendants, though some of them were subsequently chosen for the position.
While Matthias was on the throne of Hungary Frederick III. of Hapsburg was ruling in Austria. Matthias attacked him and drove him out of Vienna; but Matthias was short-lived, dying at the age of forty-seven, and his successors were feeble and unable to hold what he had gained.
For generations back the Turks had been a thorn in the side of Hungary and had worried the kings by their constant incursions. They persecuted the land much as the Danes harried Britain, and thirty-six years after Matthias’ death the culmination came in a terrific battle fought at Mohács, where the Turks, in prodigious force and fury, almost wiped the Hungarian nation off the face of the map. The reigning King, Louis II., was but a boy, and his army of 25,000 men was practically annihilated by one twelve times as great, under Suleiman the Turk. Seven archbishops and bishops and thousands of nobles laid down their lives on the field that day, and the defeat was to the nation as poignant and humiliating as the battle of Flodden Field was to Scotland. The Turk has always stood out conspicuously as the only Mussulman power in Europe, and in our time we have seen slice after slice cut away from his territory and set up as independent kingdoms. The time is surely not far distant when the Ottoman power will be pushed across into Asia, to which it so much more fitly belongs; in fact, only the jealousies of the great nations adjacent have so long delayed this consummation.
The Hungarians, driven frantic by their disasters, appealed to the Kings of the House of Hapsburg for help, and accepted them as rulers, alien though they were in blood and race. The solution was accepted loyally by the majority of the people, but it led to little relief, for even the Hapsburgs could not hold back the savage Turks, who overran the great plain of Hungary, and were accepted as suzerains by the people of Transylvania. For a century and a half before the year 1686 the Hungarian capital was in the hands of the Turks. Such divisions and dissensions tore the nation in pieces, and there was nothing but misery for the people.
“But,” writes the distinguished Hungarian, Dr. Julius de Vargha, already quoted, “it was the national disaster that displayed the heroic valour and ardent patriotism of the Hungarian nation. Such splendid instances of intrepid bravery, undaunted self-sacrifice and chivalrous virtues brighten these dark pages of our history, that we may justly call this period the heroic age of the Hungarian nation. But it was not only military prowess that preserved the national character of this country, torn, as it was, to pieces and bleeding from a thousand wounds. It is remarkable that just at this very period a rich and flourishing national literature sprang into being. During the reign of Matthias humanistic literature and culture took deep root in the country; its tongue however was not Hungarian but Latin. The intellectual movement of the Reformation made the soil of Hungary, that had already been cultivated, bring forth a national literature, which the struggle evoked by the anti-Reformation succeeded in fostering to a higher development.”
Successive rulers of the Austrian House of Hapsburg were chosen as German Emperors too, and the effect of this was to make Hungary seem to them insignificant, and they tried to incorporate it as a part of their dominions without recognising the Hungarian people as a strong nation which had freely invited them to rule.
However, when the Turks were driven out of Buda, and the nation had time to settle her internal affairs, things began to look better. The Hungarians voluntarily gave up their right of election in the case of their kings, and settled the succession in the House of Hapsburg; unfortunately, it was only a short time after this that the then reigning monarch, Leopold I., treated them with such disdain that they arose against him in fury, and made war on him, a struggle which continued for eight years and was ended by an honourable peace in 1711, when the constitutional independence of Hungary was fully confirmed.
In 1740 the Emperor, Charles VI., died, and left an only daughter, but before his death he had done his best to secure her inheritance to her by inducing the Pragmatic Sanction in 1723 to extend the right of succession to the female line. She was only twenty-three at the time of her accession, and had four years before married Francis Stephen of Lorraine, who became Grand Duke of Tuscany. Though the way had been cleared for her, yet on her father’s death a host of claimants for the inheritance sprang up. The Prussian, Bavarian, French, Saxon, Spanish, and Neapolitan rulers all wanted what she had got! The chivalry of the Hungarians was called to the surface by her position, and when she appeared at Pressburg (called by the Hungarians Pozsony), then the capital, with her infant son in her arms she was greeted by the loyal and splendid cry, “Moriamur pro reges, Maria Teresa,” which has rung down the ages. Her accession welded the nations together as nothing else could have done. She proved a popular monarch and conciliated the Hungarians with womanly tact; she had sixteen children, of whom her eldest son Joseph succeeded her as Joseph II. and became also Emperor. One of her daughters was the beautiful and unfortunate Marie Antoinette.