CHAPTER XVII.

Magyar intolerance of the German--Patriotic revival of the Magyar

language--Ride from Herrmannstadt to Kronstadt--The village of

Zeiden--Curious scene in church--Reformation in

Transylvania--Political bitterness between Saxons and Magyars in

1848.

My horse being all right again, I thought it high time to push on to

Kronstadt, which is nearly ninety miles from Herrmannstadt by road.

There is railway communication, but not direct; you have to get on the

main line at the junction of Klein Köpisch--in Hungarian, Kis Kapus--and

hence to Kronstadt, called Brasso by the non-Germans. This confusion of

names is very difficult for a foreigner when consulting the railway

tables. I have often seen the names of stations put up in three

languages. Herrmannstadt is Nagy Szeben. The confusion of tongues in

Hungary is one of the greatest stumbling-blocks to progress; and

unfortunately it is considered patriotic by the Magyar to speak his own

language and ignore that of his neighbour.

It happened to me once that I entered an inn in a Hungarian town, and

addressing the waiter, I gave my orders in German, whereupon an elderly

gentleman turned sharply upon me, saying--also in German, observe--"It

is the custom to speak Hungarian here."

"I am not acquainted with the language, sir," I replied. "German is not

to be spoken here--Hungarian or nothing," he retorted. I simply turned

on my heel with a gesture of impatience. It was rather too much for any

old fellow, however venerable and patriotic, to condemn me to silence

and starvation because I could not speak the national lingo, so in the

irritation of the moment I rapped out an English expletive, meant as an

aside. Enough! No sooner did the testy old gentleman hear the familiar

sound, invariably associated with the travelling Britisher in old days,

than he turned to me with the utmost urbanity, saying in French, "Pardon

a thousand times, I thought you were a German from the fluency of your

speech; I had no idea you were an Englishman. Why did you not tell me at

once? What orders shall I give for you? How can I help you?" It ended in

our dining together and becoming the best friends; in fact he invited me

to spend a week with him at his château in the neighbourhood. In the

course of conversation I could not help asking him why, as he spoke

German himself and the people in the inn also understood it--in fact I

am not sure but what it was their mother-tongue--why he would not allow

the language to be spoken?

"We are Hungarians here," he replied, going off into testiness again,

"and we do not want that cursed German spoken on all sides. I, for one,

will move heaven and earth to get my own language used in my own

country. Ha, ha! the Austrians wanted us to have their officials

everywhere on the railway. We have put a stop to that; now every

man-jack of them must speak Hungarian. It gave an immensity of trouble,

and they did not like it at all, I can tell you."

I did not attempt to argue with the old gentleman, for his views were

inextricably mixed up with feelings and patriotism.

As a matter of fact, in the early part of this century the Magyar

language was hardly spoken by the upper classes except in communicating

with their inferiors; but when the patriotic Count Stephen Széchenyi

first roused his fellow-countrymen to nobler impulses and more

enlightened views, he held forth the restoration of the national

language as the first necessity of their position. In his time it meant

breaking down the barrier which separated classes. He was the first in

the Chamber of Magnates who spoke in the tongue understood by the

people; hitherto Latin had been the language of the Chambers. With the

exception of a group of poets--Varósmazty, Petoefy, Kolcsey, and the

brothers Kisfaludy--there were hardly any writers who employed their

native language in literature or science. Count Széchenyi set the

fashion, he wrote his political works in Hungarian, and what was more,

assisted in establishing a national theatre.

There is perhaps no place where Shakespeare is so often given as at the

Hungarian theatre at Buda-Pest, and it is said by competent judges that

their translation of our great poet is unequalled in any language,

German not excepted.

To a foreigner the Hungarian tongue appears very difficult, because of

its isolated character and its striking difference from any other

European language. In Cox's 'Travels in Sweden,' published in the last

century, he mentions that Sainovits, a learned Jesuit, a native of

Hungary, who had gone to Lapland to observe the transit of Venus in

1775, remarked that the Hungarian and Lapland idioms were the same; and

he further stated that many words were identical. As a Turanian

language, Hungarian has also an alliance with the Turkish as well as the

Finnish; but there are only six and a half millions of Magyars who speak

the language, and by no possibility can it be adopted by any other

peoples.

For their men of letters it is an undeniable misfortune to have so

restricted a public; a translated work is never quite the same. The

question of language must also limit the choice of professors in the

higher schools and at the university. But political grievances are mixed

up with the language question, and of those I will not speak now, while

I am still in Saxonland, where they do not love the Magyar or anything

belonging to him.

Returning to the itinerary of my route, I left Herrmannstadt very early

one morning, getting to Fogaras by four o'clock; it was about

forty-seven miles of good road. This little town is celebrated for the

cultivation of tobacco. There is a large inn here, which looked

promising from the outside, but that was all; it had no _inside_ to

speak of--no food, no stable-boy, nothing. After foraging about I got

something to eat with great difficulty, and feeling much disgusted with

my quarters, I sallied forth to find the clergyman of the place, to whom

I introduced myself.

I spent the evening at his house, and found him a very jolly old fellow;

he entertained me with a variety of good stories, some of them relating

to the tobacco-smuggling. The peasants are allowed to grow the precious

weed on condition that they sell it all to the State at a fixed rate.

Naturally, if they otherwise disposed of it, they would be able to make

a much larger profit, as it is a monopoly of the State. They have a

peculiar way of mystifying the exciseman as to the number of leaves on a

string, for this is the regulation way of reckoning; besides which,

wholesale smuggling goes on at times, and waggon-loads are got away.

Occasionally there is a fight between the officials and the peasants.

I had intended getting on to Kronstadt the next day, but I stopped at

the Saxon village of Zeiden. The clergyman, on hearing that there was a

stranger in the place, hastened to the inn, where he found me calmly

discussing my mid-day meal. He would not hear of my going on to

Kronstadt, but kindly invited me to be his guest. I heard a great deal

later of his unvarying hospitality to strangers.

The next day being Sunday, of course I went to church with my host. The

congregation, including their pastor, wore the costume of the middle

ages; it was a most curious and interesting sight. I am never a good

hand at describing the details of dress, but I know my impression was

that the pastor--wearing a ruff, I think, or something like it--might

just have walked out of a picture, such as one knows so well of the old

Puritans in Cromwell's time. The dress of the peasants, though unlike

the English fashion of any period, had an old-world look. The married

women wore white kerchiefs twisted round the head, sleeveless jackets,

with a mystery of lace adornments. The marriageable girls sat together

in one part of the church, which I thought very funny; they wore

drum-shaped hats poised on the head in a droll sort of way. Some of them

had a kind of white leather pelisse beautifully wrought with embroidery.

Each girl carried a large bouquet of flowers. These blue-eyed German

maidens were many of them very pretty, and all were fresh looking and

exquisitely neat. It was an impressive moment when the whole

congregation joined in singing--

_"Ein feste Burg ist unser Gott;"_

"the Marseillaise of the Reformation," as Heine calls Luther's hymn,

"that defiant strain that up to our time has preserved its inspiring

power."

The Reformation spread with wonderful rapidity throughout the length and

breadth of Hungary, more especially in Transylvania. It appears that the

merchants of Herrmannstadt, who were in the habit of attending the great

fair at Leipsic, brought back Luther's writings, which had the effect of

setting fire to men's minds. At one time more than half Hungary had

declared for the new doctrines, but terrible persecutions thinned their

ranks. According to the latest statistics there are 1,109,154 Lutherans

and 2,024,332 Calvinists in Hungary. The Saxons of Transylvania belong

almost exclusively to the Reformed faith; they had always preserved in a

remarkable degree their love for civil and political freedom, hence

their minds were prepared to receive Protestantism. Three monks from

Silesia, converts to Luther's views, came into these parts to preach,

passing from one village to another, and in the towns they "held

catechisings and preachings in the public squares and market-places,"

where crowds came from all the country round to hear them. The peasants

went back to their mountain homes with Bibles in their hands; and since

that time the simple folk, through wars and persecutions, have held

steadfast to their faith.

Herrmannstadt became a second Wittenberg: the new doctrine was not more

powerful in the town where Luther lived. Several bishops joined the

party of the seceders, and already the towns throughout Hungary had

generally declared for the Reformation; in many the "Catholic priests

were left, as shepherds without flocks."[15] When Popish ceremonies

aroused the ridicule of the people, and when even in country districts

the priests who came to demand their tithes were dismissed without their

"fat ducks and geese," there was a general outcry against the new

heresy. The Romish party knew their strength at the Court of Vienna. At

the instigation of the Papal legate Cajetan, Louis II. issued the

terrible edict of 1523, which ran as follows: "All Lutherans, and those

who favour them, as well as all adherents to their sect, shall have

their property confiscated and themselves be punished with death as

heretics and foes of the most holy Virgin Mary."

While the monks were stirring up their partisans to have the Lutherans

put to death, a national misfortune happened which saved Protestantism,

at least in Transylvania. Soliman the Magnificent set out from

Constantinople in the spring of 1526 with a mighty host, which came

nearer and nearer to Hungary like the "wasting levin." King Louis lost

his army and his life at the battle of Mohacks, leaving the Turks to

pursue their way into the heart of the country, slaughtering upwards of

200,000 of its inhabitants. To this calamity, as we all know, succeeded

an internal civil war, resulting from the rival claims of John Zapolya

and the Archduke Ferdinand of Austria for the crown of Hungary.

Transylvania took advantage of this critical time to achieve her

independence under Zapolya, consenting to pay tribute to the Porte on

condition of _receiving assistance against the tyranny of Austria_. Thus

it came about that the infidel Turks helped to preserve the Reformation

in this part of Europe: they became the defenders of Protestant

Transylvania against the tyranny of Roman Catholic Austria. "Sell what

thou hast and depart into Transylvania, where thou wilt have liberty to

profess the truth," were the words spoken by King Ferdinand himself to

Stephen Szantai, a zealous preacher of the gospel in Upper Hungary, whom

he desired to defend.

It is said that the first printing-press set up in Hungary was the gift

of Count Nadasdy to Matthias Devay, who was devoted to the education of

youth; and the first work that was issued from the press was a book for

children, teaching the rudiments of the gospel in the language of the

country. The same Protestant nobleman aided the publication in 1541 of

an edition of the New Testament in the Magyar tongue. "It is a

remarkable fact," says Mr Patterson,[16] "connected with the history of

Protestantism, that all its converts were made within the pale of

_Latin_ Christianity. In the nationalities of Hungary there belonged to

Latin Christianity the Magyars, the Slovacks, and the Germans."

In Transylvania the progress of Protestantism was secured. In 1553 the

Diet declared in favour of the Reformation by a majority of votes, and

while the province was governed by Petrovich, during the minority of

Zapolya's infant son, he freed the whole of Transylvania from the

jurisdiction of the Roman hierarchy.

When the Turks were finally expelled from Hungary by the second battle

of Mohacks in 1686, Protestantism had grown strong enough in

Transylvania to extract from the house of Hapsburg the celebrated

_Diploma Leopoldium_ (their Magna Charta), which secured to them

religious liberty once and for ever.

[Footnote 15: See The History of Protestantism, by Rev. J.A. Wylie, Part

29.]

[Footnote 16: The Magyars; their Country and Institutions.]

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