Category Archives: Austria

Book review: Lost Prestige

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Lost Prestige, by historian, diplomat and former Hungarian Foreign Minister Géza Jeszenszky, now published in English translation, is a book about reputation. Using British perceptions of Hungary in the years leading up to the First World War, it seeks to examine more broadly the relationships between states, and how international reactions to particular events can shape universal judgements. We have all become used to seeing opinions presented as general consensus by a manipulative Press, or appearing to have traction on an unedited social media, but what does this really reveal? We are in a hall of mirrors, Jeszenszky suggests. And behind this, as the silvering on the mirror, lies moral posturing or vested interest. 

No mirror is perfect: every looking glass, however well made, distorts the image, sometimes in subtle ways. Nor is the person who looks in the mirror an impartial spectator: they are looking for a reflection that will show them what they want to see or that will flatter their sense of self. 

The specific conundrum with which Jeszenszky grapples is this: In 1848, Hungary rebelled against Austria, demanding its constitutional freedoms. Hungarians gained wide international support, particularly in Britain, and came to be seen as a noble people standing up bravely against oppressive and absolutist masters. By 1914 this reputation was in tatters and it was Hungary, rather than Austria, who was regarded as authoritarian and chauvinistic. How did this happen?

If we cannot see things directly ourselves, we rely on mirrors and lenses for information. Lost Prestige is an examination of how the perception of things and the way those perceptions are presented can alter the course of history. Immediately after 1848, Hungarians were largely telling their own story. The anti-Habsburg revolutionary Ferenc Pulszky spent his exile in Britain and his wife Theresa wrote a best-selling memoir in English. The architect of the revolution, Lajos Kossuth, toured Britain and America giving talks to enthusiastic audiences. But although reactions were widely favourable, the Habsburg empire was nevertheless still seen as integral to the European balance of power. Voicing public support for plucky Hungary’s bid for independence was one thing, but Britain’s mandarins were privately pleased when in 1849 Russia stepped in to crush the revolution and to restore the integrity of Austria. A fully independent Hungary was not in Britain’s interests. It was a romantic idea, perhaps, but not a sensible one. In the first years of the 20th century, however, two influential British commentators appeared: Henry Wickham Steed (Vienna correspondent of the Times), and R.W. Seton-Watson, a journalist and campaigner. Initially both men were great champions of Hungary but over time their attitudes became more and more critical. Their conclusions not only swayed the opinions of the British public; they also began to influence British foreign policy, in Hungary’s disfavour. How and why?

By the 1890s, Hungary was no longer the underdog. She was widely seen to have received a “good deal” in the Compromise agreement of 1867, when the Dual Monarchy of Austria-Hungary came into being, but the huge bulk of her non-Magyar population—Croats, Slovaks, Romanians and others—lacked political representation. International sympathies now turned to these marginalised minorities. Britain had another reason, too, for deploring Hungary’s attitude: internal conflicts between Magyars and non-Magyars blinded the country as a whole to the external threats besetting it. In holding up a mirror to Hungary, Britain hoped to see a bulwark against German ambition. Instead it saw selfish, Magyar-centric chauvinism, an arrogant assumption that the prosperity Hungary enjoyed was all of her own making, and petty quarrelsomeness with Austria in demanding more rights for herself while denying those same rights to her non-Magyar peoples. Hungary’s obstreperousness in obstructing the proper workings of Parliament and stubbornly insisting on a Hungarian language of command (instead of German) in the Hungarian army (despite the fact that almost half of its soldiers were not Magyars) was widely deplored. For decades the existence of a united Austria-Hungary had been central to British policy, its dissolution unthinkable. Britain now began to think about it.

It was at this point that Wickham Steed and Seton-Watson came into their own. The Monarchy’s Slavs, Wickham Steed reported, were more reliably anti-German than the Hungarians. Partition of Austria and the creation of new buffer states along ethnic lines might be a better safeguard against German domination of the region. The creation of such states would bring the added advantage of liberating peoples groaning under a system of repression by Hungary which Seton-Watson described as “without any parallel in civilized Europe”. This book does not directly blame Seton-Watson or Wickham Steed for the outcome of Trianon (the post-WWI treaty by which Hungary was deprived of two thirds of her territory, millions of her citizens and a significant proportion of her natural resources), but it was Britain who led the charge towards the dismemberment of the Habsburg empire and it did this even before the War was over, for example by entering into treaties with Italy and Romania, enticing them over to the Allied side in return for territorial reward. Jeszenszky quotes a telegram sent in January 1915 to the British Embassy in Bucharest by the Foreign Secretary Sir Edward Grey: “We have already declined to entertain any suggestion of Hungarian independence that would prevent satisfaction of Roumanian national aspirations as regards Transylvania.” It was a done deal. What Britain did not see was that there is no such thing as “the Slavs”. Croats, Serbs and Slovenes do not always think alike and their interests are not necessarily the same; nor are those of Czechs and Slovaks. Prophetic voices such as that of the intelligence officer Leo Amery, warning that breaking up Austria-Hungary would create a “new Balkan” of weak, unstable states which would “sooner or later lead to another war”, were ignored. 

Britain was an imperial power not known for championing the self-determination of the peoples under her dominion. How dare she, one might ask, attack Hungary on the subject of the way she treated her minorities? Wickham Steed excused himself by maintaining that his attitude was directed purely and simply by British national interest. As he saw it, a Hungary which worked in harmony with its nationalities would be a stronger ally against Germany. One that was at daggers drawn with them was a danger to Britain. Seton-Watson’s attitude was more personal. He had friends among the non-Magyars in Hungary and the horror-stories they told him led him to see everything in black and white. His Racial Problems in Hungary (1908) was shocking and convincing but it was also exaggerated and factually selective, “a passionate piece of polemical writing”. Hungary was certainly unlucky in making an enemy of him, since he was more of an activist than a historian. He orchestrated the bombardment of Austro-Hungarian troops with leaflets showing proposed new national borders and urging Slav and Romanian soldiers to desert and join international legions. Murky tactics. But Jeszenszky notes that Hungary was fooling herself in clinging to the notion that she was or could become a homogenous nation and her tendency to see all manifestations of national feeling as separatism, and thus to crush them, merely served to fan the flames.

In some ways this book is a portrait in non-fiction of the plot of Miklós Bánffy’s Transylvanian Trilogy: a wilfully blind elite class of Magyars refusing to see how hard the people they oppress (both the national minorities and the working classes) are longing for their destruction. And Jeszenszky pulls off a rare feat: he makes parliamentary history into a page-turner. But quite a lot of background knowledge is taken for granted and readers not already familiar with Hungarian history will need to look things up, because Lost Prestige is not a history book, it is a book about image: about how Hungary was viewed and judged by external media and about how it failed to turn the mirror on itself to see how big its warts really were.

The Paris Peace Conference made many mistakes. In Central Europe, multiple peoples were living “overlapping and mixed and it was next to impossible to create States uniting all the members of a nation and having no large minorities that had their own distinct language and identity.” Human nature is universal and after Trianon, Hungarians found themselves minorities among the peoples they had tried to Magyarise. But what would have happened if Hungary had appeased its nationalities? Would concessions have prevented the break-up of the Hungarian lands? Or merely accelerated it? The opinions that become history are all about perception. Perceptions drive events. Tony Blair and the spin doctors were right: it is crucial to put the right gloss on things. 

The English translation of this book is timely. How is it that Hungary has once again alienated the world’s press, when in 1956 and 1989 it was lionised? Are we seeing a repeat of 1848 and 1914? It is always tempting to look for historical parallels. The UK’s vote to leave the EU unleashed intense confrontation between leavers and remainers. Can similarities be seen with post-Dualist Hungary? Does today’s European Union approximate to the federation of states that some early 20th-century observers believed was the solution to Austria-Hungary, Germany, Russia and European equipoise?

And to what degree were Seton-Watson and Wickham Steed’s analyses fair? Reputation is a fragile thing, an “idle and most false imposition, oft got without merit and lost without deserving” (Othello). Hungary, as Jeszenszky points out, was neither so liberal before the turn of the 20th century nor so reactionary afterwards as British commentators portrayed it. But instead of angrily blaming the mirror for distortion, he suggests, a better response is to consider instead whether some of the faults it shows might actually be there. We should take Jeszenszky’s concluding lines to heart: “Self-awareness that also rests on criticism from others is essential to individuals as well as to nations.”

Lost Prestige: Hungary’s Changing Image in Britain 1894–1918, by Géza Jeszenszky. English Translation by Brian McLean. Published by Helena History Press, 2020. Reviewed here by Annabel Barber.

To Austria’s Lake District by rail

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Mark Dudgeon, Blue Guides’ rail expert, takes advantage of the summer weather to visit the Salzkammergut region of Austria.

Budapest’s Keleti railway station on a Thursday morning in late August: the migrant crisis overwhelming Europe is on stark display here. On the subterranean level, masses of hapless refugees calmly mill around or lie down in their family groupings waiting for something to happen, somewhere to go.

A rail journey to Austria would normally start here: Railjets run towards Vienna at two-hourly intervals in the daytime. But today, instead, a sharpish flit over to Kelenföld station – in the southern Buda suburbs – is required, to catch the early morning train from Debrecen (in the east of Hungary) towards Vienna. This train does not reach Keleti, the main international station in Budapest, but instead skirts through the city’s southern fringes, stopping at a couple of suburban stations en route.

The train arrives on time and is very busy, for it’s the start of a long holiday weekend in Hungary. Surprisingly, it’s not a Hungarian or Austrian train which rolls up, but a Polish trainset. On board, breakfast in the Polish dining car – an advantage on this train over the newer Railjets, which only have a cramped bistro section – makes the journey pass by very comfortably. At Vienna’s Westbahnhof station, there is more evidence of the migrant crisis. Two platforms are cordoned off and a group of around a hundred refugees is sitting patiently, cross-legged, in the middle, surrounded by police. Then a further contingent of a dozen or so police officers arrives and escorts them away.

From Vienna, the next stage of the journey proceeds westwards on the Austrian main east-west axis towards Salzburg, but only as far as Attnang-Puchheim, reached about 3 hours after leaving Vienna. This journey is operated using an OeBB (Austrian Railways) inter-city train, made up of refurbished early-1990s carriages, which used to be the mainstay of Austrian long-distance rail travel until the introduction of the Railjets a few years ago. OeBB has kept these trains in excellent condition, and many consider them to be more comfortable than the Railjets, having more legroom and feeling less cramped, with a mixture of traditional compartment and open-plan seating.

The scenery so far has been pleasant, rather than spectacular, but thing soon change on the Salzkammergutbahn, part of which runs from Attnang-Puchheim, for a distance of about 60 miles southwards and then eastwards, to Stainach-Irdning on the Graz-Innsbruck line. Now travel is on a regional express train, and about fifteen minutes after leaving Attnang-Puchheim, the train arrives at the first major station on the single-track line, Gmunden, which is at the northern tip of Traunsee, the second largest lake in this area. The lake is unfortunately not yet visible from the railway, since the station lies some way out of the town. The station is linked with the lakeside by the Gmunden Tramway, which, although short (less than a mile-and-a-half long) is the oldest tramway still operating in Austria. From the lakeside square in the centre of Gmunden, the full expanse of the eight-mile long lake unfolds, with the mountains providing a splendid backdrop to the south and east, whilst on the western side of the lake, just south of the town, lies the striking Schloss Ort, a castle with origins in the eleventh century.

Back on the railway, after another ten minutes, the lakeside is reached just before the station at Traunkirchen, and the train continues along the lake’s western shore all the way to its southern end at Ebensee. Traunsee is a popular lake for water sports, particularly sailing and water-skiing – and on any summer’s day the view from the train is of a lake dotted with the sails of yachts. The railway line then bears south-westwards along the banks of the River Traun, for about ten miles, until it reaches the town of Bad Ischl.

Bad Ischl lies at the centre of the Salzkammergut region, Austria’s lake district, and while being a significant tourist base, it does not at all project the feeling of being overwhelmed by tourism – it is a charming and bustling town in its own right. It lies at the confluence of the Traun and Ischl rivers, which loop round effectively transforming the town’s centre into a peninsula. By the mid-nineteenth century, Bad Ischl had become fashionable as a spa resort, and it was the summer retreat for many years of Emperor Franz Josef I, who was engaged to the future Empress Sisi here. Consequently, the spa town became very popular with Austrian and European aristocracy even before the railway arrived in 1875, and the centre contains many elegant imperial buildings.

From Bad Ischl, to the west lies the well-frequented lakeside resort of St Wolfgang and the Wolfgangsee, and beyond that, Salzburg; however, unfortunately, there is no railway line in that direction. The railway continues southwards towards to the sleepy town of Bad Goisern, and then soon a glimmer of the dark waters of the Hallstättersee – Lake Hallstatt – can be seen through the trees. The train now hugs the lakeside, but the opposite shore is only visible occasionally, offering the tantalising glimpse of the small settlement in the distance, hugging the side of a mountain. Then, after passing through a short tunnel, the train draws to a halt at the solitary platform which forms the station at Hallstatt, on the opposite side of the lake to the town it serves.

From the station, a short path snakes downwards to the waiting ferry. For as long as can be remembered, in a very civilised arrangement, the ferry meets each train, and the trains stop at the station only when the ferry operates.

Despite the innumerable images of Hallstatt in guide books and online, nothing quite prepares you for the beauty of the setting in reality. The view from the boat crossing the lake is probably the most spectacular, and this is not lost on the many camera-wielding tourists making the journey. The town seems to be precariously situated between the mountainside and lake shore, while the colours of its buildings are reflected in the dark, shimmering waters of the lake. The boat docks at Hallstatt Markt pier, and everyone disembarks right into the centre of town.

Hallstatt is small – the main street, which is almost traffic-free, runs for about 500 metres, north to south – and despite the throngs of tourists, remains considerably beguiling, not least because of the charm of its well-kept buildings, many of which are hundreds of years old. It is easy to find some tranquillity away from the crowds by walking behind and above the main street, looking down on the town; in a mini-Venice effect, the town becomes much quieter in the early evening after the many day-trippers have left.

Highlights of a visit to Hallstatt include the salt mines and the town’s ossuary. Hallstatt’s connections with salt mining go back many centuries; indeed the early European Iron Age, between about 800 and 500 BC, is referred to as the Hallstatt period. The entrance to the salt mines is reached by a vertiginous cable railway running up Salzberg, the salt mountain itself. Near the railway’s summit, Hallstatt’s own skywalk – 350 metres above the town – provides the inevitably stunning panoramic views. The ossuary, or Bone House, is located in the basement of St Michael’s church, and dates back to the twelfth century. It contains some 1,200 skulls, about half of which are painted; many are arranged in family groups. It came about ostensibly because of limited burial space in the town, and the historical prohibition of cremations. The last skull to be placed there was as recent as 1995, being that of a woman who died in 1983.

Just south of the town, a glacial valley cuts into the mountains, perpendicular to the lake. The town’s dwellings soon dwindle out into the open countryside, and there are plenty of reasonably easy, and little-frequented hiking trails leading to craggy rock faces, rushing streams, waterfalls and high bridges with expansive views of the town and lake below. More experienced hikers can take the trail up the side of the Salzberg to the high station of the mountain railway.

Back in Hallstatt, it is evident that this place is extremely popular with Asian visitors, so much so that a few years ago – initially much to the chagrin of local residents of the original town – China built a full-scale replica of Hallstatt in Guangdong province.

On the good boat Stefanie, sailing back to the railway station on its last journey of the day, the constant clicking of cameras and smartphones evidences tourists making the most of the last chance to take pictures of the unique setting. Then they make their way up to the station, and just a few minutes later everyone is whisked away by the last northbound train of the day.

Practicalities
From Vienna or Salzburg, Hallstatt is reached by changing trains at Attnang-Puchheim. A shorter journey is possible from Salzburg by a combination of bus to Bad Ischl, and thence train to Hallstatt.

On Saturdays and Sundays, a through train to Bad Ischl and Hallstatt leaves Vienna (Westbahnhof) at around 10:00, returning from Hallstatt just after 16:30.

The last boat to leave Hallstatt Markt pier for the railway station leaves promptly at 18:15 daily, which allows a same-day arrival in Vienna just after 22:00. In the reverse direction, a train departing Vienna just before 15:00 connects with the last train from Attnang-Puchheim to Hallstatt, arriving at 18:47. The last boat to the town leaves immediately after the arrival of this train.

The low platform at Hallstatt is on a curve and the train leans away from the platform, meaning somewhat of a climb to get on or off the train, and making boarding and alighting with luggage cumbersome; the path down to the ferry, although short (less than 100 metres), is steep-ish and also can be awkward with bags.

Hallstatt’s station is unmanned, but if you are ticketless, be sure to buy your train ticket before boarding from the ticket machine, which is unsigned and somewhat hidden away in the small waiting-room. It will sell you a ticket for any destination in Austria.

Budapest to Vienna and Salzburg by Railjet

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“The journey is its own reward” trumpets the on-train information screen on the Austrian Railways (OeBB) Railjet train, but certainly this journey did not get off to an auspicious start. The train was packed. No space to sit … hardly any space to stand, even. Then it transpired that a group of German schoolchildren – about thirty of them – had mixed up their reservation, and were not supposed to be on this train at all. A very flustered teacher finally decided they had better get off the train, two minutes before it was due to leave. General chaos ensued, and the children scrambled around to retrieve luggage and get off the train.

Following this commotion, the train pulls out of Budapest’s Keleti (Eastern) station and things begin to settle down. At this point the train is heading east, in the “wrong” direction for Austria – but it almost immediately swings round to the south, and then to the west, before crossing the Danube and stopping at the suburban station of Kelenfold.

After leaving Budapest proper, the train journeys through rather unremarkable scenery before stopping at the provincial industrial town of Tatabánya. Soon it follows the Danube for a while – the river here forms the border between Hungary and Slovakia – and passes through the town of Komárom, opposite which, on the other side of the river, lies the Slovakian town of Komárno. About 90 minutes after leaving Budapest, the train stops at the regional capital of Győr (Raab in German) – roughly half-way between Budapest and Vienna – and then speeds through the flat north-west Hungarian countryside before arriving at the border station of Hegyeshalom. Years ago Hegyeshalom meant a stop of up to thirty minutes for a change of locomotive and a passport and customs check, but nowadays the stop barely takes a couple of minutes. The Hungarian driver is replaced by his Austrian colleague, who flicks a switch to allow the locomotive to “convert” to the different Austrian power supply, and soon the train is on its way again.

The scenery remains flat through Austria, although hills appear on the horizon both to the north and west. Massive wind turbines loom up on both sides of the line. In the distance, to the right, high-rise apartment buildings reveal the Slovakian capital, Bratislava. Soon the suburbs of Vienna appear, and only a few minutes later the train passes through the new Wien Hauptbahnhof (Central station), which is currently only partly in use and will open to international trains in December 2014. The Railjet instead stops at the suburban station of Meidling, before travelling a further 10 kilometres and turning through 180 degrees to arrive from the west at Vienna’s (current) principal station, the Westbahnhof.

Railjetswere first introduced at the end of 2008 to gradually replace OeBB’s ageing but comfortable Inter-City rolling-stock. The sets are formed of a locomotive plus seven coaches, and they travel in fixed formation, the last coach having a driving cab so the train can be operated in either direction. There are three classes: second class (called “economy”), first class and business class. Business class trumps first class, which may confuse frequent fliers somewhat. A seat in business class costs an extra €15 for any first-class ticket or pass holder, irrespective of the distance travelled. This can be paid on board if there are seats available. Paying extra for the comfortable armchair-style seating in the clubby mini-compartments is well worth it, especially for longer journeys. The supplement includes a welcome drink, although you may have to ask for it if not offered by the attendant.

The Railjets all operate so that the business class and first class sections are nearest the buffers and station entrance at Vienna’s Westbahnhof. This terminus station has only recently been completely renovated with a new shopping centre added, but it will lose its status as Vienna’s principal railway station when the Hauptbahnhof opens fully, since most long-distance trains will stop there instead. This will also allow for an improvement in journey time between Budapest and Salzburg or Munich of about thirty minutes (from December 2015).

On leaving Vienna, the route westwards to Salzburg soon escapes the conurbation; previously it would amble through the attractive hills and woods of the Wienerwald. However, the opening of a new section of high-speed line in 2012 means that, sadly, this is no longer the case – the train now accelerates rapidly and passes through a sequence of tunnels and cuttings; the 15-minute time-saving between Vienna and St Pölten being paltry compensation, some would say, for the loss of the scenic views.

The line from St Pölten onward to Linz has been upgraded in stages in the past few years, but it still mostly follows the route of the old Westbahn, originally opened in 1858 as the “Empress Elisabeth Railway”. There are only a few tunnels to spoil the view as you travel up to a brisk but smooth 230 km/h or so.

Time for a visit to the restaurant car, which is operated by Henry am Zug – an offshoot of Do & Co, the renowned Austrian caterer and restaurateur. The choice of foods is modest, but sandwiches are fresh and other dishes tasty. Pricing is reasonable for a train – a glass of very-drinkable wine with a sandwich costs just over €6, for example – and service, by the mostly Hungarian staff, is prompt and cheerful. Soon the industrial city of Linz is reached, then after passing through Wels the high-speed line ends and on the last stretch of the journey, the 45 minute ride from Attnang-Puchheim to Salzburg, the train meanders pleasantly along river valleys, and briefly passes by the northern shore of the Wallersee as the foothills of the Alps approach.

And so to Austria’s “second” city of Salzburg – in reputation, at least (it is actually fourth in size after Vienna, Graz and Linz). Recently, the station has been extensively rebuilt, but thankfully the grand arched roof has been retained and restored. While the train continues across the border (just outside Salzburg) to Germany, many people alight here, both to visit the city of Mozart and also to connect to trains southbound towards the High Tauern, and westwards towards Innsbruck and beyond.

Travelwise
Railjets ply the Budapest – Vienna – Salzburg – Munich route every two hours during the day. Fares from Budapest to Vienna are reasonably priced if bought from MAV (Hungarian railways): a one-way journey Budapest to Vienna (about 250 km) can be booked in advance for €13 second class, or €29 in first class. These tickets are valid for a specific train, including seat reservation, and are available until the quota for each train runs out.

Otherwise, there is a useful four-day round-trip excursion fare starting from Budapest to Vienna (second class only) for €29. (If you make the outward journey on day one of the ticket’s validity, the return trip has to be made on or before day four). This ticket does not have to be purchased in advance. However, this fare does not include seat reservations – which are not compulsory, and may be purchased separately. For an extra €9, your ticket will include unlimited travel on Vienna’s public transport for the first two days only of the ticket’s validity.

From Budapest to Salzburg there is also a very reasonable four-day round-trip excursion fare (again, second class only) for €39. Since break of journey is allowed with this ticket, it could be used to visit both Vienna and Salzburg within the four days of its validity. Again, seat reservations are not included in the fare.

Buying tickets on the Hungarian railways (MAV) website can be a challenge – there is no proper English version (use an online translator) – and no self-printing facility for international tickets. Tickets have to be collected from internet ticket terminals at main stations in Hungary. Alternatively, Blue Guides recommends buying rail tickets at MAV’s city ticketing office in Budapest on József Attila utca (near the Deák ter metro interchange). Queues are rare and the procedure is generally stress-free; the international ticket office at Keleti station can be crowded.

Note that the same range of tickets is not available in the reverse direction (when starting your journey in Austria) either booked on the OeBB website, or purchased locally in Austria. There are no equivalent excursion tickets, unfortunately, and one-way advance tickets from Vienna to Budapest start from €19 in second class (€29 in first class).

Railjets are often very full – especially on the Hungarian stretch of the journey where they also function as domestic inter-city trains. Booking is always advisable on these services. If you are leaving Budapest without a reservation, get to the station early to bag unreserved places – there is always a certain number of free seats. Otherwise, make your way to the restaurant car, where for roughly the price of a seat reservation, you can enjoy a coffee, beer or glass of wine.

June 2014