THE COUNTRY OF HUNGARY
Running round fully two-thirds of Hungary are the Carpathian ranges
of mountains. Hungary has been called the land of “three mountains
and four rivers,” and the emblem of these form the chief feature in
the coat-of-arms of the country. The mountains are supposed to be the
Tátra, Fátra, and Mátra, and the rivers the Danube, Theiss or Tisza,
Drave, and Save. But this, in regard to the mountains at all events, is
misleading, for the country is surrounded by mountains on three sides,
a great chain of 900 miles long reaching round north, east, and south
to the Iron Gates of the Danube, and to mention only three peaks out of
so many but little inferior does not give a true notion of the country.
The north-western Carpathians are divided into several ranges; one
separates Hungary from Moravia, Silesia, and Galicia. There are passes
of great grandeur leading through the Carpathians at many points,
and the way in which the heights rise sheer on the Hungarian side
greatly adds to the impressiveness. A good deal of the mountains is
thinly populated, and the villagers are often very primitive in their
habits.
[Illustration: A PINE FOREST IN THE TÁTRA]
The Carpathians are of great bulk and breadth, and are covered with
trees. The highest peaks are above the perpetual snow-line, and rise
grandly from the evergreen forests. In the higher parts pine and fir
predominate, but in the lower ranges oak, beech, and ash are common.
Vast armies of pigs, led by little swineherds, seek their chief food
under the trees, where they find abundance of beech-mast and acorns.
The sight of a swineherd leading forth his flock in the morning from
a village is a quaint one. He stands and calls or whistles, and from
almost every cottage one or more pigs joyfully run grunting to join
him; many of them are horrible creatures to our notions, with matted
long hair and covered with fleas; nevertheless he lets them rub up
against him, he fondles them, and allows them to rest their heads on
his lap!
The chief features of the health resorts in the Carpathians are the
wonderful mineral waters which gush out abundantly almost everywhere,
and the glorious air and grand scenery. The springs and baths alone are
enough to make the fortune of any place, but when added to these are
endless diversity of walks through forest scenery, wonderful panoramas
of wind and rock-scarred precipices, stretching on one behind the other
and backed up perhaps by a mantle of glittering snow, it is remarkable
the world at large has not yet “discovered” this playground fully.
There are also little lakes lying in hollows. These are the work of
glaciers, and are of a deep blue or green colour. On a still day the
scenery is reflected as in a mirror. They are called by the poetic
name of “sea-eyes.” The terrific falls of water streak the precipitous
heights with white ribbons.
For those who can afford it there is chamois-hunting, though it gets
yearly more difficult as the animals are driven further and further
by the intrusion of men; and even bison-hunting, though this has to
be arranged with a private owner who only grants the privilege to his
guests. The resorts are greatly sought by invalids in the winter,
and also by a totally different class of pleasure-seekers, those who
delight in ice-sports and pastimes. The two seasons are from the middle
of June to the end of September, and from the middle of December to the
end of February.
All through the Tátra runs a fine road, made by the Hungarian
Carpathian club to link up the principal places; this is 21 miles in
length and reaches from Csorba to Barlangliget.
The railway line to the Tátra passes by the river Vág for the most
part, and as every height is crowned more or less by a ruined castle,
it is inevitable that the route has been compared with the Rhine
valley. But there is no steamer on the Vág on account of its rapids,
and those who wish to come down it will have to do so on a native-made
raft, which is piloted with great skill by the peasants through
seemingly impassable turmoils of water. The rail goes past Poprad, and
it is near here that the first real view of the Carpathians is had, the
central range, stretching grim and grey about thirty miles due east and
west, and rising apparently straight from the plain.
From Poprad can be visited the extraordinary Ice Cave at Dobsina, one
of the wonders of the world, where skating is possible in the summer
even when the air outside is at a high temperature. The perpetual
chill in the cavern is accounted for by the fact that it lies at a
lower level than the outer ground, and that the cold air, having once
entered, hangs heavily, so when the warmer air of summer seeks to
displace it, it cannot find entrance. The cave is to-day planed and
smoothed and rendered easy of access in the way universally considered
necessary with any work of Nature’s, until it resembles a piece of
man’s architecture; nevertheless the beauty is still great, even
though the gleam from the crystals is that reflected by electricity,
which gives an artificial aspect to everything. The ice-columns and
pendants are constantly changing in bulk and form, and the floor of
the lower cave, a mass of ice, the cubic content of which can hardly
be estimated, is so smooth that skating is possible at any time of the
year.
From Poprad again one can go to Csorba, where a small cog-wheel
railway runs to a lake thus described by one who is an artist in
words: “Magnificently situated among mountains and forest. Lines and
patches of snow flecked the heights, and were mirrored in the still
waters. Against the sunset the mountains became a warm plum colour,
and, with the dark forests, plane behind plane of purply green, were
all perfectly reflected in the glowing water, save where the evening
breeze cut level silver lines.” Strange tales are told of some of these
lakes, the depths of which are unmeasured, and the notion that they are
connected with the sea by some subterranean caverns is still believed
by the peasants. The hotel here belongs to the Sleeping-Car Company.
The massive granite range of the High Tátra is about 18 miles long by
9 or 10 broad, its highest summits are Francis Joseph, Lomnitz, and
Ice-Valley Peaks, rising to about 9000 feet.
The best known of all the Tátra watering-places is Tátra Füred,
called the mother of them all. This holds its season in July and
August, and consists of three settlements, New Smecks, Old Smecks,
and Lower Smecks, with numerous hotels, concert halls, restaurants,
and every sort of convenience for the visitor. Only 4½ miles away is
Tátra Lomnitz, where there is a large hotel and golf-links, but no
village. This is the terminus of a loop-line from Poprad. At another
of the watering-places in the neighbourhood, Barlangliget, there are
wonderful caves with stalactite formations. This stands higher than
Tátra Lomnitz on the road leading to Poland.
One of the most wonderful and best developed of all these places is
Pöstyén situated at the foot of the Lower Carpathians near the Vág.
The hot springs of Pöstyén have been known for generations, and are
even referred to in the twelfth century. As is often the case they
have occasionally shown some vagaries, the mud-source shifting about
erratically from time to time on either shore of the river, and after a
tremendous inundation in 1730 they disappeared, but not for long, for a
few years after the bathing was going on in full swing, and since then
the springs have been stationary. They are sulphurous and exceptionally
hot, the natural temperature being 140° F. Their upspringing causes
an overflow which runs down into the river and shows itself in mighty
rolling clouds of steam rising from the surface. The constant flow
causes a deposit of silky sulphurous mud, and it is this that makes
the fame of Pöstyén. It is a wonderful cure for rheumatism in all its
many manifestations, which is borne witness to by a museum filled with
the crutches discarded by patients who have recovered the full use of
their limbs. The springs are also rich in radium, and radiograph photos
have been taken in a dark room by the agency of the mud alone! Besides
rheumatism, gout, neuralgia, fractures, sprains, and bone diseases are
treated here, and the thermal water is taken internally as well as
in the form of baths. The air is dry and the situation sheltered from
the north. Many of the hotels are open all the year round, and though
the summer season is the principal one the treatment can be carried on
at any time. One of the largest and newest of the many hotels is the
“Thermia,” which is near the huge Irma bath, itself a revelation of
what can be done in this direction. The bath is built right over the
springs, and its vast floor, 126 feet in diameter, is of mud. There are
corridors and lifts and dressing-rooms enough for an army, and private
baths can be had here too. It is one of the latest and most complete
buildings of its kind in the world. There is another bath-house too
bearing the name of the monarch. The Kur Salon, adjoining the Kur
Hotel, contains reading-rooms, music and dining-rooms, besides a
beautiful ballroom. There are recreation grounds, a theatre, a fine
park with magnificent trees and promenades by the river. Here special
home-industry articles of needle-work peculiar to the district are
on sale. Boating can be indulged in safely, and there are endless
beautiful walks into the hills around. The proprietor of Pöstyén is
Count Emmerich Erdody, and he lets the Spa on lease.
At a little known place on the Mátra mountains called Párad, the waters
are a combination of iron and alkaline, and also there is a spring of
arsenic water which achieves astonishing results in certain cases. So
numerous are the springs in these parts that in spite of the up-to-date
development of such places as Pöstyén and Tátra Füred, there are many
places where the peasants still indulge in primitive baths as the pigs
used the pools before Bath was built. Owing to their open-air life and
the constant dampness of their clothes the poor people suffer greatly
from rheumatism, and while bathing they preserve their bodies from the
extreme heat of the pits where the water lies, by lining the sides with
branches of trees as was done in the old days at Pöstyén itself.
Far the most intimate picture of homely life among the various peoples
of the Carpathians which has yet been written in English, is Mrs.
Phillimore’s _In the Carpathians_, giving an account of a leisurely
tour made by herself and her husband with a cart all around the great
encircling heights. Poles, Slovaks, Ruthenians, Czechs, Saxons, all
passed before them in review, and they even came across the dreaded
Wallachs, held up by the Slavs as bogey men. The Wallach is akin to the
Roumanian, and proved himself on acquaintance much less formidable than
painted.
They started from Zakopane in High Tátra Mountain, and here they picked
up the Polish boy, Milak, who went the greater part of the way with
them to drive the cart. They slept out for the most part, had a total
absence of adventures of any kind, and the chief difficulty was the
lack of food. They were on the border line between Hungary and Galicia,
crossing into one or the other as the road wended. Bread, bacon, and
sausages, honey and fruit, and sometimes cheese and milk, were the
staple diet, and oft-times they were thankful to get anything. Many of
the villages were extremely poor. They passed through a watering-place
at Bardfield, where baths, cafés, restaurants, and large hotels make it
exceedingly popular with the German element who take up all the rooms
weeks ahead for the season. But for the most part they shunned the
frequented resorts and passed only through little-known districts where
the people were very poor.
The writer sums up the races she met in this sentence:
Poles and Slovaks we decided were amongst the lovable races
of the world; Ruthenians and Jews were to be esteemed but
not beloved; while gipsies were too flighty and flippant to
be recipient of any responsible emotion. We knew little of
Magyars; Wallachs, Szeklers and Roumanians proper, we had yet
to meet, and beyond innumerable suggestions that they were
“dangerous people” had no knowledge of them.
[Illustration: A ROAD IN THE CARPATHIANS]
It is a record of beech woods, and many streams, of quiet bad roads,
and wide maize fields, of poor and dusty villages with kindly
villagers, who, though curious, were usually innately well-mannered.
After completing the semicircle they returned again to the plain,
and here is a striking little description:
Up the broad high road came a cart full of peasants and a
string of thin light-footed horses. Far off in the distance
rose a cloud of dust, and from out of it came a herd of white
cattle, followed by a crowd of black buffaloes. The great
golden plain striped with brown ploughed land, the groups of
corn-stacks, the threshing-machine and the teams of buffaloes
and oxen with their drivers in white and red, and on the road
the herds returning slowly homewards--this was our last clear
picture of Hungary.
A book to read, though it does not encourage one to “go and do
likewise.”
The north-eastern Carpathians include the Wooded Carpathians and a
range of low hills where the much admired wine of Tokay is produced.
The town of Tokay nestles at the base of these hills, called Hegyalia,
and is itself disillusioning, its population consisting almost entirely
of wine-growers and wine-buyers or middlemen, so that a constant
chaffering spirit spoils the romance. The essence of Tokay is made of
the juice which runs out of the ripe grapes pressed down by their own
weight. This is produced by putting the grapes in a cask with holes
bored in the bottom through which the juice runs. This essence is so
scarce that it is hardly ever offered for sale to outsiders, who,
indeed, get very little chance of pure Tokay at any time. The other
two kinds are made by mixing juice, pressed artificially out of fresh
grapes, with some of the pulp, and these two are known as “ausbruch”
and “maslas.” Tokay varies from pale yellow to rich gold in colour, but
red wines are produced in Transylvania and elsewhere.
Many are the drinking songs of Hungary, but very difficult to translate
in the spirit of the original. Here is a characteristic one:
WINE SONG
Away with grief, away with pain,
Let us bathe our throats in wine,
And quaff it to a tuneful strain.
Wine for me--the joyous wine,
Whose sap can make one strong.
Who drinks not wine, the Magyar name
To him may not belong!
The fish loves water for its part,
No fish’s shape is mine!
For me the wine that warms the heart
Born beside Tokay’s vine.
What’s water unto me?
Whoever drinks not wine
No Magyar can be.
Cold beer the Germans swill,
We quaff the grape with song,
For beer from water they distil,
Two pints a penny strong--
Wine to me bring here,
Who drinks it not, the Magyar name
He holds not ever dear.
Hungary ranks high among wine-producing countries, at least a million
acres being under cultivation of the vine, while the Tokay wine is
limited to that grown within an area of about twenty square miles.
[Illustration: A YOUNG MAGYAR CSIKÓS]
In contrast to the stern heights of the mountains the Great Plain of
Hungary, the Alföld, which has been called the “heart and brain and
soul” of Hungary, is a startling contrast. It is 35,000 square miles
in area, and the soil is rich, so that it lies like an oasis amid
the encircling heights. It is the greatest plain in Europe and is at
an average height of 350 feet above the sea. Quantities of corn are
grown here, but in some places the ground is still too swampy for such
cultivation, and the people live by gathering the reeds and rushes with
which to make mats, and osiers for baskets.
On the far-reaching Alföld it is the majestic _Nothing_ that
awes and impresses you. There are neither trees nor pastures,
neither hills nor dales, neither flocks nor people. Simply
miles and miles of _nothing_, arched over by the blue of
heaven, but if you look closely you will find on the sand
the tiny traces of fairy footsteps. It has its own peculiar
fairies as well as its own peculiar grasses, flowers, birds
and insects. _Fata Morgana_ is the sovereign who queens it
over them there; but she shows herself more rarely every year.
Silence broods over all, and subtle fitful shadows chase each
other across the “large neglect” of this broad expanse, where
patches of long knotted grass and charming water weeds wave and
toss feebly in the balmy breeze. Wild ducks and moor-hens share
the shelter of “withied” swamps with the heron, the crane and
the stork, and gaze without a sign of fear or trepidation on
the rare passer-by.
But this was written many years ago, and much of the area has been
drained since then.
Any one familiar with the prairie can well picture the Alföld with its
undying fascination, and will be able to see it in the mind’s eye as
it lies with miles and miles of yet unripened corn like a vast ocean
brushed into small waves by the wind. There is hardly a tree, and
the sky-line, unbroken in its tremendous semicircle, sweeps on ever
infinitely. It is difficult to give any idea of the Alföld, unless the
characteristics of the people who dwell in it are taken into account as
throwing light upon it. This great plain, once an inland sea, contained
at one time a gigantic marsh of 100,000 acres, and the rivers Theiss
(or Tisza) and Danube overflowed their banks occasionally, making it
impossible for any one to live near them in safety. Now a great part of
the marsh has been drained, the rivers are confined to their channels,
and their backwaters and islets form a breeding-place for thousands
of geese, which at times may be seen in such numbers that it seems as
though the land was covered with large snowflakes.
Here is a translation of an old national song:
THE ALFÖLDER
I dwell on the heath through sunshine or snow,
And on holidays I with my dear one can go;
But far on the Hortobagy plain,
In vain to God’s house would I hie--in vain.
Flat is the heath where no trees do grow,
The high steeple-top in the sunshine doth show,
The tall church spire to the heath is plain;
But far from God’s house I must still remain!
I’d pray, but no prayer at all do I know,
And never to school in my life did I go.
My mother would thither have sent me fain,
But ah! long, long in the grave has she lain.
Pray thou to good God, my dovelet, go--
Come after church thy kiss to bestow--
Thy prayerful sweet lips I’ll devour again,
And more than a fortnight from oaths I’ll refrain!
The Hungarians were ever a wild and warlike people, and as the country
became more settled they found their chief delight in tending horses,
being born horsemen. The name _csikos_, which really means horseman,
now includes shepherd or herdsman. Horse-breeding goes on largely to
this day. The csikos live a primitive wild life still, and round up
their horses with the skill of an American cowboy. The horses in the
herd are half-wild, and are rounded up by the use of the karikas, a
short-handled long-lashed whip, with which the herdsman, going at full
speed, can single out any animal and touch it up in any part of its
anatomy he desires with the unerring aim of a brilliant marksman with a
bullet. His own special mount is generally as dear to him as the Arab’s
horse is to its master. It shares his shelter and will come at his
call, and eat out of his hand. The name Hussars applied to troops of
soldiers comes from Hungary, and the Hungarian Huszar is still the best
rider on the continent, a veritable part of his beast.
The Hungarian horses are as a rule hardy spirited little creatures,
descendants of the race which came with their masters from the east.
The government has improved horse-breeding, introducing English and
Arab blood, and there are two large government studs for the purpose.
[Illustration: MAGYAR SHEPHERDS]
The Hungarian loves the boundless spaces of the plain; it has been
said that he shares in its qualities, “the same absolute straightness,
the same taciturnity characterise both.” Here in the sweltering summer
heat he works all day uncomplainingly, to gather in the fruits of
cultivation; here, when the white mantle of winter lies over the silent
icy spaces he wanders in his sheepskin. The horseherd or csikos, once
the aristocrat of the plain, now is hardly distinguishable from the
shepherd or cow-herd whose avocations he shares. The far-famed white
horned cattle of Hungary are tended and reared on the Alföld. It is
a sight to see them yoked as a four-in-hand with their spreading
horns and splendid hides gleaming in the sun. Beneath an acacia, the
Hungarian tree, or a willow, both of which are plentifully found, the
shepherd pitches his rude wattled tent. Possibly he has with him one
of the native dogs, great snow-white shaggy fellows, who are, alas,
growing fewer every year. Storms and clouds, heat and rain, affect
not the man who meets them all calmly. The great black cloud of hail
which bursts in masses of ice is met with stoical patience. At evening,
maybe, he sees far off across the plain what appears like a sheet
of blue water, and yet there is none; it is a mirage raised by the
refractive power of the air. The wild duck and water-hens and even the
herons have now migrated elsewhere, but there is still fishing to be
had, and the herdsman is often a keen angler.
There are many flourishing towns to be found in the Alföld, of which
Debreczen, Szeged, Kecskemét, and Temesvar are perhaps the best known.
In these towns there are electric lighting, asphalt paths, a good water
supply, and other comforts of civilisation.
A recent writer has said:
In general the towns we saw throughout Hungary looked new;
and indeed we were more than once--until we became wary--sent
to places said to be most interesting, only to find that new
municipal buildings, new banks, new schools, streets in course
of construction, electric trams and electric lighting, were
their chief attraction. But there were towns that well repaid
a visit, and of these one was Löcse (German Leutschau), chief
town of the Zips country, near to the Tátra. Sometimes called
the Nuremberg of Hungary.
The largest lake in Hungary is Lake Balaton, which may well be
described as an inland sea, for it is 47 miles in length. It is
difficult to describe what Lake Balaton means to a country like Hungary
deprived of a seashore. Though the lake has no tides the levels are so
constantly changing that monotony is impossible; this is no dead sheet
of water. Its very size makes room for the breakers the storm-wind
sweeps before it, and storms are by no means lacking. For many years
there has been a railway line along the southern shore, but only
recently another, completed in 1909, carries people also along the
northern shore, which is the more popular, and the health resorts and
bathing places which have sprung up are innumerable. All Hungarians who
can afford it carry their families to this charming resort, there to
bathe and dabble and fish, or to voyage by steamer or yacht. The lake
is divided into two by a long peninsula which stretches out from the
north side almost to the opposite shore. On the north side, there are
hills rising in vine-clad slopes, with white houses nestling in them,
and at the foot many a town, of which Balaton-Füred is the principal
one. The lake is rather shallow, though varying enormously with the
feeding it receives from springs and streams, but it is deepest on the
north side, where bathing is easier than on the sandy shore of the
too shallow south. Long wooden piers with huts at the end of them are
constantly available, and every one bathes. Many a pretty picture can
be seen of a peasant woman, her face alight with fun, her wet hair
thrown back, dipping a pink innocent babe in the fresh water.
Balaton-Füred is not only a seaside place but has wonderful alkali
springs and baths which are excellent as cures. There are many
excursions to be made. Steamers run the whole length of the lake.
The walks and drives are innumerable. For other interests there are
yacht races and fishing. In winter the lake freezes easily because
of its general shallowness, and then the whole of the 600 square
kilometres are available for skating and winter sport. When the ice
breaks up, which it does with cracks like pistol-shots, and piles
itself in masses, glittering with every colour of the rainbow like
gigantic prisms, happy are they who are there to see it!
[Illustration: THE ÖRTLER SPITZE]
At the western end there are curious basaltic effects, great cones
rising from the vine-covered slopes like sugar-loaves, or hills which
appear to be built up of columns of basalt, as in the far-famed
Fingall’s Cave of Scotland. There are ruined castles artistically
arranged on hills, piled up by the gradual forces of nature, not by
art; and there is the magnificent seat of Count Tassilo Festetics at
Keszthely near the western end. Balaton well deserves the place it
holds in popular estimation in Hungary.
If time is limited, and it is desired to see something of the two great
attractions of Hungary, the rich lowland and the mighty hills, in a
short time, no one could do better than take a ticket from Budapest
to Orsova. Railway travelling in Hungary is cheap compared with other
countries; it is run according to zone system, and the farther you
go the less you pay proportionately. The management is extremely
enterprising, and deserves much credit for it in a country where the
national spirit is inclined to dwell on the past rather than to work
for the future.
The very large towns passed through will astonish those who think that
the peasants still live in little rough villages. At a place like
Kecskemét, for instance, there is a magnificent town hall, and as the
town is truly Hungarian the quaint costumes of the people seen in the
imposing streets have all the piquancy of contrast with their modern
surroundings. Kecskemét lives to a large extent by agriculture. The
suburbs are one mass of fruit orchards, and at the time of the “peach
market” the smell of the exquisite fruit is radiated far and wide.
Cucumbers--which are eaten by the children like bananas--grapes, and
apricots, are grown in quantities, and there are a number of vineyards.
Willows and acacias are frequently seen, both being planted along the
roads in avenues.
A very large town on the banks of the Tisza is Szeged, with over
100,000 inhabitants. Szeged has suffered much in times past from the
Tisza’s unruly manners, and in 1879 was subject to a very terrible
inundation, when hundreds of people were drowned. The river is now
properly embanked. The wide squares, the well laid out gardens, the
artistic architecture, will be a revelation to many people. The town
has a busy industrial life with steam-mills, timber-works, flax
industries, also paprika-mills. This is a special industry. The hot
red pepper called paprika is used in quantities by every Hungarian, and
dished up on all occasions. Formerly it used to be ground by hand, but
now steam-driven mills have taken up the task. There are distilleries
too, and Szeged soap is renowned, while its silk slippers are famous.
The river is responsible for shipbuilding and fishing industries.
Another large town is Temesvar, also industrial, with clean straight
streets, electric tramways, and an extraordinary amount of open space.
Its chief interest is that here stood the original castle of the great
patriot, John Hunyadi, now marked by a later castle in a square of
that name. Tobacco and mosaic, bricks and textile goods are turned out
from Temesvar, and not far off is a fine watering-place called Buzias.
Northward lies another large town called Arpad, the centre of a rich
vine-growing district.
It is only after leaving Lugos we begin to see the hills, which we are
soon to enter.
To the east lies a country of mining and factories, smelting furnaces,
and other disagreeable evidences of industrial prosperity. The smelting
is carried on by charcoal made from the splendid fir and beech forests.
Iron and coal are found in quantities, and it will be news to most
people that Hungarian steel goes to England as well as to other
European countries.
Road, rail, and river run together through a narrow mountain defile,
and finally the railway goes through a tunnel which is at the summit
level of the line. Then the line is wonderfully engineered in and out
along the hillsides, across valleys, and over bridges. In one of these
valleys is the oldest health resort in the country, the famous Baths
of Hercules, not far from the Iron Gates of the Danube. Herculesfürdo,
to give it its native name, was established by the Romans two thousand
years ago. The springs are sulphur and salt, and the cures of
rheumatism, skin disease, and other ailments still wrought by them are
almost miraculous. The river Cserna runs through the valley. The place
is under State management, and there are now many good hotels, and the
walks through the steeply-rising wooded cliffs are well planned and
laid out. It is visited in the season by hundreds of people, a large
number being foreigners. From the top of the hills, which rise to over
3000 feet, there are charming views. In these hills there are caves,
one of which is full of hot vapours and used by many people as a vapour
bath.
Beyond this we reach Orsova, which is on the Danube and is mentioned
elsewhere.
This little glimpse of the Alföld with its wheatfields and vineyards,
its flourishing towns and large rivers, will give an excellent
impression in miniature of the whole of its extent, while the grim
scenery of the Southern Carpathians forms a striking contrast.
So much for the northern and eastern parts of the Dual Monarchy, but
the south-western part has a character quite its own, and in the Empire
of Austria the Alps play a larger part than the Carpathians. The
Rhaetian or Tyrolese Alps form the highest range, many topping 12,000
feet, the highest point, the Orteler Spitze, attaining 12,814. These
Alps are subdivided into three chains, of which the above-mentioned
peak is to be found in the most southerly; the middle chain extends to
the borders of Salzburg and Carinthia, and the northern one lies above
it again. The Noric Alps are those in Salzburg, Styria, and Carinthia,
and they are also broken into chains. The Carnic or Carinthian Alps are
another range in the north of Carniola, and the Julian Alps lie in a
south-easterly direction, running through Carniola to Dalmatia.
All the beautiful mountainous scenery in this part of the Empire,
including the Tyrol, is known to those who love natural scenery, and
the Tyrol itself, with the Dolomites, rivals Switzerland in the number
of holiday-makers attracted by it. The country about Salzburg is less
known outside the inhabitants of Austria themselves, but the enterprise
of the Austrian State railways is opening it up. All this is dealt with
in another part of the book.